The Righteous Brother-Chapter 5
Gorgeous April morning, still cool but the air full of the smell of green grass and moist earth. The swamp maples along the roadside ditches were budding out in a red haze and Mack felt that sense of relief common to people who lived in northern climates, that he’d survived another winter.
He parked his Honda Pilot in front of the Armitrages’ third garage door, to the left of the two Mercedes, a white station wagon and a charcoal-gray coupe. The crash of the Atlantic on the granite breakwater was muffled by the sheer mass of the house, an assemblage of concrete and glass cubes that looked like a giant’s dice. Here on the desirable side of the peninsula, where the next land mass east was Portugal, the place had to be worth several million dollars.
The figure behind the storm door tracked Mack across the gravel driveway, recently replenished after a long winter of being plowed and washed away. Mack wondered if the gardeners had to rake stones out of the grass to save their mower blades. Because the Armitrages certainly didn’t cut their own grass.
Martin was in his early forties, built long and lean like a long-distance cyclist. Mack had heard of him, peripherally, in the Boston business community. Armitrage had started and sold a software company to a Microsoft subsidiary for enough money to retire here to Vacationland. His LinkedIn page stated he was managing the family’s investments.
But his movements as he opened the door and ushered Mack in were tense and deliberate, like an old man afraid of falling. The skin over his facial bones was slack, his complexion that of a shut-in.
“You’re Trevor?”
Mack nodded. Martin shook his hand, his grip cold. The dead bolt clicked behind them and he led Mack through a long white hallway floored in blonde wood, then down two steps into a sunken living room.
“Thank you for coming,” Martin said. “Open curtain.”
Mack didn’t understand the second sentence until the shades over the oceanside windows started to roll up.
“Have a seat.”
Martin pointed to a white leather armchair, its back to the sea. Maybe he thought Mack would be distracted by the view.