Robert B. Parker's Damned if You Do

by Michael Brandman

  “Donnie,” Jesse said.

  There was no response.

  “Donnie,” he said, louder this time.

  Donnie’s eyes fluttered open momentarily, then closed again.

  “What have we here,” the floor nurse said as she entered Donnie’s room. Jesse turned to her.

  “What’s wrong with Mr. Jacobs,” he said.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why, there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s having his nap.”

  “At nine-thirty in the morning?”

  “May I ask who you might be?”

  “I’m a friend.”

  “You’re not a member of his family?”

  “I am not.”

  “Then you’ll have to leave. Visiting hours haven’t yet begun.”

  “Mr. Jacobs appears to be sedated,” Jesse said.

  “That would be none of your concern,” the nurse said. “Please leave.”

  “Why is he sedated?”

  “He’s not sedated. He’s napping.”

  Jesse looked at her.

  “Now, Mr. whatever your name is, if you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to call security.”

  Jesse turned back to Donnie. He called his name again. Donnie remained unresponsive. Jesse looked at the nurse.

  “Shame on you,” he said to her.

  He left the unit. When he stepped off the elevator on the main floor, he was met by Chuck Dempsey.

  “What are you doing here,” he said to Jesse.

  “I was visiting my friend,” Jesse said.

  “Visiting hours are from twelve to eight. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. I’m sure Donnie greatly appreciated that you stopped by.”

  He took Jesse by the arm and started to edge him toward the door. Jesse wrenched his arm from Dempsey’s grasp.

  “Hands off,” he said.

  “Feel free to come back during visiting hours,” Dempsey said.

  Jesse stepped closer to him.

  “I don’t think I like what I’m seeing here, Chuck. Mr. Jacobs appears to have been drugged. There are bruises on his body. I’m thinking that maybe something’s not right, and I don’t much care for that thought. Let me offer you a word of caution that I trust you’ll share with Dr. Binky. I don’t want to see Mr. Jacobs in this state again. If I come back here and find him like this, or maybe even tethered to his bed, more than likely I’ll become angry. Which wouldn’t be a good thing. Do I make myself clear?”

  Dempsey didn’t say anything.

  Jesse reached over, grabbed hold of the tendon that stretched from Dempsey’s neck to his shoulder, and pinched it hard. Dempsey winced.

  “Do I make myself clear?”

  Dempsey nodded.

  Jesse held on for several moments longer before he let go. Dempsey was still massaging the tendon when Jesse left the building.

  Jesse had already taken his first sip of coffee when Molly walked into his office and sat down.

  “What do we know about the Golden Horizons Retirement Village,” he said.

  “Why? Are you thinking of checking yourself in?”

  He looked at her.

  “Who owns it,” he said. “Who runs it? What kind of financial shape is it in? What’s its history. Stuff like that. Also, I want a list of the residents. Past and present. I want to see if we know any of them.”

  “Why?”

  “Something’s fishy.”

  “Fishy?”

  “This business with Donnie Jacobs has raised my hackles.”

  “Fishy. Hackles. You’re quite the linguist this morning.”

  “I think Donnie’s being mistreated.”

  Molly didn’t say anything.

  “See what you can learn,” Jesse said.

  Molly stood.

  “It’s always something around here,” she said.

  Jesse watched her go. Then he picked up his address book, found the number he was looking for, and dialed it.

  “Foster, Wells, and Jacobs,” a female voice answered.

  “Jesse Stone for Emma Jacobs,” Jesse said.

  “One moment, please.”

  “Jesse,” Emma Jacobs said when she picked up the call. “This is a surprise.”

  “How’re you doing?”

  “Just as you’d expect from a harried New York advertising wonk. Nothing ever changes.”

  “Still setting the world on fire?”

  “One match at a time,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “Donnie.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “In a manner of speaking. When did you see him last?”

  “Maybe a month or so ago. Why? Has something happened?”

  “He wandered off again.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Golden Horizons seems to have security issues. We got a missing-persons call.”

  “And?”

  “I found him at the house.”

  “Was he okay?”

  “He seems to be doing less well, Emma. He was more confused than usual. He kept asking for Dolly.”

  “It’s the fucking Alzheimer’s.”

  “He said something about being mistreated. I noticed bruises on his arms. When I went back to check on him this morning, he appeared to have been sedated.”

  “How about I drive up tomorrow,” she said.

  “Let me know when and I’ll meet you at Golden Horizons.”

  Emma didn’t say anything.

  “It’ll be all right, Emma. Don’t start blaming yourself just yet.”

  “I’ll try not to,” she said, and ended the call.

  Jesse sat back in his chair and thought about Emma Jacobs. Donnie had introduced them. Since they were both single, Donnie had the idea that they might like each other. They did, but not romantically.

  He had kept track of her over the years. He occasionally saw her when she was in town visiting her parents. Jesse’s thoughts were interrupted by the insistent buzz of his cell phone. He answered it.

  “Clarice Edgerson,” Gino said.

  He provided a phone number.

  Then he hung up.

  At exactly one-thirty, Jesse entered the Boston Common at the corner of Tremont and Boylston Streets.

  Heavy gray clouds hung low in the darkening spring sky, bringing with them a blast of humidity and the threat of rain. The Common was alive with people on the move, many carrying umbrellas in anticipation of the approaching storm.

  Jesse walked toward the bench on which sat an elegant African American woman, casually dressed in jeans and a sweater, sporting an oversized floppy black hat and, despite the darkening sky, a pair of red-framed Ray-Ban sunglasses.

  An imposing gentleman of color stood to the side, his restless eyes scanning the crowd. They stopped when they spotted Jesse.

  “Chief Stone,” the man said.

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  The man nodded. He didn’t offer his hand. He was tall and slender, imbued with athletic grace and craggy good looks. He had on a custom-made, narrow-cut black suit, a powder-blue shirt, and a striped gray tie. His suit jacket was unbuttoned and hung open just enough for Jesse to see the handle of a Beretta protruding from a leather shoulder holster.

  “I’m Thomas,” he said. “I’m going to presume that no harm will come to Ms. Edgerson.”

  “Certainly not by my hand.”

  “Confidentiality?”

  “Assured.”

  Thomas nodded and pointed Jesse to the bench.

  “May I,” Jesse said, glancing at the bench.

  She nodded. He sat.

  “Jesse Stone,” he said, by way of introduction.

  She looked at him and said nothing. She removed her Ray-Bans, revealing large brown eyes that regarded him coolly.

  “You’re a police chief,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m not generally in the habit of cavorting with police chiefs.”

  “We’re a forthright bun
ch. Upstanding, too.”

  “Upstanding’s good,” she said, smiling.

  Jesse looked at her more closely. She was in her late thirties. Her stylish outfit emphasized her enticing figure. She was strikingly attractive.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Police Chief?”

  “I’m investigating the murder of a young woman. A prostitute. I have no clues as to her identity. She’s nowhere in the system. I’m trying to learn her name.”

  “What would this have to do with me?”

  “Perhaps nothing, for all I know. It was Mr. Fish who suggested that we speak. The dead woman is currently a Jane Doe. Another piece of detritus that washed ashore in the night. If I knew her identity, at the very least I might help bring about proper closure. Maybe save her from an anonymous burial. Perhaps even relieve her family’s anxieties about her fate. It could also put me on track to finding her killer.”

  “I see.”

  She sat quietly for several moments.

  “And you want me to sniff around on your behalf. See what I can learn.”

  “That would be helpful.”

  “All right,” she said. “I’m not promising anything, you understand.”

  “I understand.”

  “Just because we may have been in the same business doesn’t insinuate familiarity. We’re not all members of some pansy-assed sorority, you know.”

  “Duly noted,” Jesse said.

  She grinned at him.

  “Do you have some kind of a business card,” she said.

  Jesse stood and pulled one from his pocket. He wrote his home and cell phone numbers on it. He handed it to her.

  She looked at it and nodded.

  “Thank you, Ms. Edgerson.”

  “Clarice,” she said.

  She stared at Jesse for a moment, then she stood, took Thomas’s arm, and together they left the Common.

  Rumor is she fronts a high-class call-girl ring,” Healy said. “Her influence is considerable.”

  “If you know that, how is it she stays in business,” Jesse said.

  “We don’t have exact proof. Her ventures are moving targets and difficult to pin down.”

  “Meaning?”

  “She’s mobbed up.”

  They were sitting in Healy’s office drinking coffee and nibbling Oreo cookies from a box on Healy’s desk.

  “She’s very well protected,” Healy continued. “And her associate is connected big-time.”

  “Her associate?”

  “Rumored to be a key player in the Mob’s sex-trade operations.”

  “Who?”

  “Thomas Walker,” Healy said.

  “Elegant-looking black guy?”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “I may have met him.”

  “Not many have. He keeps himself well secreted.”

  “He presented himself as her bodyguard.”

  “Nice,” Healy said. “You manage to keep the oddest company.”

  “I do, don’t I?”

  “So your new best friends have pledged to help in trying to identify the dead girl?”

  “They have.”

  “Well, anything they can do is probably a whole lot better than anything I can do. You’ll let me know?”

  “You’ll be the first.”

  “I suppose it’s unnecessary for me to remind you that these are dangerous people.”

  “It is.”

  Jesse stood, reached into the box, and grabbed another Oreo.

  He grinned at Healy and left the office.

  • • •

  “What do we know,” Jesse said to Molly. He had called her from his cruiser.

  “Golden Horizons has been sold twice in the last eighteen months.”

  “Who owns it now?”

  “A company that’s primarily invested in senior-citizen residences and assisted living facilities.”

  “What company?”

  “Amherst Properties.”

  “The same Amherst Properties that made headlines earlier this year when it was cited for questionable patient practices?”

  “One and the same.”

  “Do you know where they’re based?”

  “In Amherst.”

  “Massachusetts?”

  “No. East Timor.”

  “Massachusetts,” he said again.

  “Yes.”

  “Can we get a list of the officers of this company?”

  “I already have.”

  “Can you put it on my desk?”

  “I already did.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything.

  “Was there anything else,” Molly said.

  “Nicely done, Molly.”

  “Thank God I have some redeeming qualities.”

  “Amen,” Jesse said, and ended the call.

  Jesse met Emma Jacobs in front of Golden Horizons shortly after eight p.m. She was casually dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a double-breasted Armani blazer. Her thick brown hair was cut short and showed the barest traces of blond highlighting. She wore no makeup. The drive from New York had tired her, and Jesse noticed stress lines at the corners of her mouth.

  She gave him a quick hug, and together they went inside. The lobby was deserted. They took the elevator to the fourth floor and went directly to her father’s room.

  Donnie Jacobs was asleep in his bed. He had on plain white pajamas and a striped cotton bathrobe that looked to be in need of laundering. A trickle of drool escaped from the corner of his open mouth. The television was showing a rerun of Two and a Half Men with the sound muted.

  Emma called to him.

  “Dad,” she said.

  He stirred slightly. His eyelids fluttered, then closed.

  “Dad.”

  This time there was no response.

  “This is how he was yesterday,” Jesse said.

  “Not good,” Emma said.

  She turned around in time to see a stern-looking female nurse approaching.

  “May I help you,” the nurse said.

  “This is my father,” Emma said. “I’ve come from New York to see him.”

  “Visiting hours are over.”

  “So what,” Emma said. “Why is he so gaga?”

  The nurse stared at both Emma and Jesse. Then she left the room and headed for her desk, where she picked up the phone and spoke quietly into it.

  After several minutes, the elevator doors opened and Chuck Dempsey emerged, accompanied by another attendant. They headed for Donnie’s room.

  “You again,” Dempsey said to Jesse. “What do you want this time?”

  “We’re here to visit Mr. Jacobs.”

  “Visiting hours are over for the day.”

  Dempsey looked at Emma.

  “And you are,” he said.

  “Emma Jacobs. What’s wrong with my father?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your father. It’s after hours and he’s asleep.”

  “He’s sedated.”

  “He’s had his evening meds, yes. I’m sure that if you come back tomorrow, you’ll find him awake and alert.”

  “It’s just past eight o’clock. Why is he sedated this early?”

  “Because it’s his bedtime.”

  “He was also sedated at nine-thirty this morning,” Jesse said.

  “Look,” Chuck said. “It’s after hours now, and I’m not really the person to talk to regarding Donald’s medical regimen. Why don’t you just come back tomorrow and speak with one of the doctors.”

  Neither Jesse nor Emma moved.

  Dempsey turned to his associate. “Some people just don’t get it,” he said.

  The associate nodded.

  “I think we should do it now,” Emma said to Jesse.

  “You’re certain.”

  “I don’t like this one bit,” she said.

  “You might want to pack his things,” Jesse said.

  She looked at him for a moment, then walked over to the closet, where she found Donnie’s suitcase. S
he opened it and started to place his belongings inside.

  Jesse reached for his cell phone and called the station. When Molly answered, he asked her to dispatch the nearest squad car to Golden Horizons. He also asked her to send an EMT unit.

  Dempsey looked at Emma and said, “Just what is it that you think you’re doing?”

  “We’re checking my father out of here,” Emma said.

  “No, you’re not,” Dempsey said.

  She stared at him.

  “This isn’t some fancy hotel, you know,” Dempsey said. “You don’t just barge in here and remove one of the patients.”

  “I do.”

  “You do what?”

  “Barge in here and remove one of the patients. Especially if the patient is my father and he’s incoherent.”

  “That’s not for you to determine,” Dempsey said.

  “Are you planning on stopping me?”

  Dempsey looked at her and said nothing.

  Emma turned to the nurse, who was standing at her station.

  “I want a list of the medications that have been administered to my father,” she said.

  The nurse looked first at Jesse, then at Chuck Dempsey. She didn’t say anything. Emma glared at her. The nurse hastily set out to comply.

  The elevator doors opened and two emergency medical technicians entered, followed by both Suitcase Simpson and Rich Bauer.

  “What’s up, Jesse,” Suitcase said.

  “Trouble avoidance,” he said.

  “Trouble avoidance is what we do best,” Suitcase said.

  “Make sure that these two clowns understand that,” Jesse said, pointing to Chuck Dempsey and his associate.

  “Will do.”

  Jesse turned to the two EMTs.

  “We’ll be wanting to move Mr. Jacobs to Paradise General,” he said. “I’ll phone ahead for a room. He’ll be under the supervision of Dr. John Lifland.”

  “Yes, sir,” said one of the technicians.

  Jesse took the list of medications from the nurse and handed it to Emma.

  “For Dr. Lifland,” he said.

  The EMTs gently repositioned Donnie onto a wheelchair and strapped him in. They moved him to the elevator. Emma went with them. Jesse promised to meet her at the hospital.

  He phoned Molly again, briefly explained what had transpired, instructed her to be in touch with Dr. Lifland and to arrange for a room at the hospital. Then he turned to Chuck Dempsey and stared at him for several moments.

  “There’s something rotten in Denmark,” he said.