by Mike Lupica
“I know,” they both said at the same time, and the three of us laughed.
I was just tired of talking about it all. Tired, period. I just wanted to see Rosie the dog. She didn’t need to worry about having me all to herself because she already did. I still wasn’t sure why Eddie Ross had given Jalen up before he died. Maybe if he couldn’t have the money, he didn’t want anybody to have it.
I parked my car in my space behind the house and was coming around the corner when Emily Barnes stepped out into the light, pointing a gun at me.
Of course, I thought.
Who wasn’t these days?
“Where’s Jalen?” she said.
“Put the gun away, Emily,” I said, keeping my voice calm.
“After you tell me where Jalen is,” she said.
“I don’t know,” I said.
I kept my focus on the gun. There was a slight tremor to her hand, but at this distance she wasn’t going to miss if she fired. Maybe she thought I was her last loose end.
“You ruined everything, you stupid, stupid bitch,” she said. “And now I want my money.”
Love or money.
“Jalen’s not getting the money,” I said. “You probably heard.”
“He and Eddie had figured out a way to skim money off the Russians, a little bit at a time,” she said.
“Before they screwed them on the back end,” I said.
She offered a tight smile. “No honor among thieves,” she said. “Now I want my cut.”
“And Jalen’s just going to hand it over?”
“I got him to tell me how he killed Chris Lawton,” she said. “I taped him.”
“Of course you did,” I said.
She made a tiny forward gesture with the gun.
“Jalen taught me how to use this thing,” she said.
“I’m sure he did.”
“Tell me where he is or I swear, I will shoot you,” she said.
“For the last time,” I said, “I don’t know.”
“For the last time,” she said, “don’t lie to me!”
Her voice had gotten louder. Just not loud enough for any neighbors to hear. Just the two of us. No bodyguards any longer.
I turned my head to the left then, as if I’d heard something. It was enough for her to take her eyes off me, and distract her, as I stepped in and just slightly to the side and hit her with the hardest punch I’d ever thrown in my life. It was the one Henry Cimoli had taught me how to throw. One Jesse had joked he never wanted to see, but had just put Emily Barnes on her back.
Down and nearly out.
Maybe guys had it figured out. Maybe sometimes the way to solve the problem was a punch in the mouth.
It felt awesome.
I reached down and picked up the gun that had fallen next to her and said, “Now we’re done.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have been given the high privilege of writing Sunny Randall and now Jesse Stone by Daniel and David Parker.
The great Esther Newberg told me to write a sample chapter one day, which is how I came to work with—and for—Ivan Held and Sara Minnich.
I am grateful to all of them, and finally to my pal Peter Gethers, who taught me everything about poker except how to beat him.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Robert B. Parker was the author of seventy books, including the legendary Spenser detective series, the novels featuring police chief Jesse Stone, and the acclaimed Virgil Cole/Everett Hitch westerns, as well as the Sunny Randall novels. Winner of the Mystery Writers of America Grand Master Award and long considered the undisputed dean of American crime fiction, he died in January 2010. Mike Lupica is a prominent sports journalist and the New York Times-bestselling author of more than forty works of fiction and nonfiction. A longtime friend to Robert B. Parker, he was selected by the Parker estate to continue the Sunny Randall series.
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