“What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It stinks here,” Jesse said.
Jesse found John Lifland in conversation with Emma Jacobs. He was a tired-looking, sallow-faced sixty-year-old, with the appearance of someone who’d spent a good deal of time in brilliantly illuminated emergency rooms, breathing too much recirculated air and experiencing more than his share of stress.
“How’s he doing,” Jesse said.
“I’ve just been discussing that with Ms. Jacobs. We’ve taken several blood samples and we’re testing them in order to determine the dosage levels he’s been receiving.”
“So he was drugged.”
“I’d say so.”
“When will he be awake,” Emma said.
“That’s hard to tell.”
“Could the drugs he’s been given contribute to his confusion,” Emma said.
“It’ll be a while before they’re completely out of his system. I don’t think his psychological condition has been impacted, but his physiology may have been. I’ll know more tomorrow.”
Jesse nodded.
“Is this an unusual occurrence,” he said.
“You mean is the drugging of patients in retirement facilities commonplace?”
“Yes.”
“There are increasingly more reports showing that it is. AARP is on the lookout for such instances, and, unfortunately, they’re finding more and more of them.”
“Yikes,” Jesse said.
“Exactly,” Lifland said. “Patient mistreatment never fails to get my goat. We take oaths to prevent this kind of crap. Forgive me for ranting. I’ll phone you as soon as I have the test results.”
“Thanks, John. I’ll also want you to present those results to the assistant district attorney.”
“Marty Reagan?”
Jesse nodded.
“I’ll make certain they’re faxed to his office.”
Jesse offered his hand, and Lifland took it.
“This is the same group responsible for a similar situation at their Marlborough facility, isn’t it,” Lifland said.
“It is.”
“Dirtbags,” Lifland said.
“Worse,” Jesse said.
They said their good-byes, and Jesse walked Emma to her car.
“Wasn’t this a stressful evening,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Jesse said.
“How do they get away with it?”
“They work at it.”
“God, Jesse. I feel awful about this.”
“You couldn’t have known, Emma. Golden Horizons had a stellar reputation when you first brought Donnie there. The problems only began when Amherst Properties took over.”
She opened her car door.
“Thanks for this, Jesse.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “Dinner?”
“I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m whipped. Can I take a rain check?”
“Of course. Will you be all right?”
“You know me. By morning I’ll be rarin’ to go again.”
“It’s good to see you, Emma.”
“I wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.”
In the morning Jesse went directly to the station. Molly followed him into his office. She sat down heavily across from him.
“How’s it going,” she said.
“Doc Lifland says that Donnie is much improved.”
“What happens when Lifland releases him?”
“She’s out looking at other places.”
“He’s not going to get any better, is he?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Jesse.”
“It’s sad to see him like this. He’s compos enough to know that he’s in trouble and terrified that he can’t do anything about it.”
“It’s an awful disease.”
“Relentless.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“Were there any calls,” Jesse said.
“Someone named Thomas Walker.”
“He leave a number?”
“I’d have to go find it.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I’d have to stand up in order to get it.”
He looked at her. She sighed.
“There’s no rest for the weary,” she said.
She went to get the message.
“Your dime,” Jesse said when he reached Thomas Walker.
“What’s two o’clock like for you,” Walker said.
“What do you have in mind?”
“A friendly chat.”
“Where?”
“How ’bout we meet halfway?”
“Which would be?”
“Reilly’s Fish and Chips,” Walker said.
“That’s where you want to meet?”
“You got a better idea?”
“Two o’clock?”
“I’ll be there,” Walker said, and ended the call.
Jesse climbed the steps of the small craftsman and rang the bell. The house was part of a development, one of a large number of identical dwellings situated on a subdivided tract of property that was once farmland.
After several moments, Madeleine Lee opened the door and stood for a moment, giving Jesse the once-over.
“Ah,” she said, “the police chief arriveth. And still fine-looking, too, I might add. What’s your secret?”
“Debauchery,” Jesse said.
“Just as I suspected. Come in.”
Jesse followed her through the modest living/dining room to the kitchen, where she offered him coffee that he gratefully accepted. They sat at her table, in the cheerful room where her eclectic decorative tastes were on display and the tools of her legendary cooking prowess hung haphazardly above the stove on dark steel s-hooks.
Madeleine Lee was a firebrand, standing only five feet tall, well into her seventies and still a powder keg of energy and irony.
“You wanted to talk about Sheldon,” she said, glancing at Jesse as she placed a steaming mug of black coffee in front of him, accompanied by a plateful of her legendary homemade cinnamon cookies. She sat across from him.
“I did,” he said.
“Something to do with Golden Horizons, was it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she said. “Talk.”
Jesse took a sip of coffee and a bite of one of the cookies.
“There’s nothing like your cinnamon cookies, Madeleine.”
“Don’t you worry, Jesse,” she said. “I’ve already prepared a goody bag for you to take with you.”
Jesse smiled.
“Did you ever have any issues when Sheldon was at Golden Horizons,” he said.
“Issues?”
“Anything that you felt might have been out of the ordinary.”
Madeleine shifted in her chair.
“He wasn’t an easy one for them, you know. Particularly at the end.”
“In what way?”
“The more he lapsed into his dementia, the harder he was to deal with.”
“How so?”
“He was always a troublemaker, you know. When he had all of his marbles, he was great fun. When he lost them, he was impossible. He had taken to prowling the halls and pouncing on unsuspecting patients. Women. He was a groper, and not everyone appreciated him.”
“What did they do about it?”
“They gave him downers.”
“With your permission?”
“I wasn’t always aware of them doing it.”
“Meaning?”
“I wasn’t around a whole lot. It was painful for me to see him in such a state. He didn’t know me. And, worse, I didn’t know him. Who he had become.”
“But they kept him there just the same.”
“They did. He was worth a good deal of money to them, what with his insurance and all.”
She thought for a while.
“I don’t want you to think he was always impossible,�
� she said. “He did have the occasional good day.”
“I understand,” Jesse said. “Did you ever see any incidents of mistreatment?”
Madeleine sat quietly for several moments. Then she said, “I did.”
“What did you see?”
“Once in a while I would slip in after visiting hours were over. Mostly late at night. When I was feeling particularly blue and I was missing him. When I was feeling sentimental.”
“And?”
“I once found him tied to his bed. They untied him when I complained.”
“How did you complain?”
“I spoke to the man in charge. Some Brit. He told me that Sheldon had been caught chasing one of the women. He said that tying him to the bed was for his own good.”
“Anything else?”
“He was generally asleep when I got there. I’d sit with him until an attendant would discover me and ask me to leave.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“It’s funny,” she said. “He looked so peaceful and innocent when he was asleep. I didn’t really question anything until after he’d passed.”
“Meaning?”
“I think he overdosed.”
Jesse looked at her.
“Overdosed?”
“I never said this to anyone before, but I don’t believe he had been ready to die.”
“Why?”
“It’s just a feeling. Although he was definitely deep into dementia, he wasn’t really physically ill. He was still relatively healthy. His death was unexpected. At least it was to me.”
“And to Golden Horizons?”
“Dr. Morrow told me that Sheldon had managed to live longer than they had predicted.”
“Did you question him about that?”
“No. I didn’t have the heart for it. I probably should have.”
“Did they perform an autopsy?”
“I told them it wasn’t necessary. I said to call it a natural death and leave it at that. I mean, he was old and suffering from an irreversible disease. What would have been the point.”
Madeleine paused, deep in thought for a while. Then she said, “Now I regret it.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I’m haunted by the idea that he didn’t die from natural causes. That I had somehow let him down. That they may have inadvertently killed him.”
“Do you want to investigate this?”
She looked at him.
“No,” she said. “I’m an old lady. No one will take me seriously. Especially since I have no real proof. It’s been nearly a year that he’s gone. I haven’t the stomach for the mishigas I’d bring down on myself if I opened my mouth. It would be torture. The high-powered lawyers they’d throw at me would make it very difficult to win anything other than more stress and anxiety.”
Jesse looked at her.
“I understand,” he said.
“Was this at all helpful to you, Jesse,” Madeleine said. “I had no idea that I’d open these floodgates.”
“If you decide to do something about it, you’ll let me know?”
“I will.”
“I don’t like that place,” Jesse said.
“Meaning?”
“There’s something smarmy about it.”
“And you’re planning to do something about it?”
“Maybe.”
“What would you do?”
“Seek vengeance.”
“And how would you do that?”
“Nonconventionally,” he said.
Reilly’s Fish and Chips in Marblehead was the destination for anyone who had a hankering for some of the best seafood in Massachusetts. Jesse parked his cruiser and went inside.
At two o’clock, the lunch crowd was quickly thinning and a number of the usually crowded tables had become available.
Sitting in a corner, his back to the wall, was Thomas Walker, wearing a gray Hugo Boss suit, a white shirt, and a patterned yellow tie.
Among the crowd, Jesse noticed several young men of color who might otherwise have seemed out of place, were their attentions not so specifically focused on Thomas Walker and his well-being.
Walker stood as Jesse approached the table.
“Nice duds,” Jesse said. “I guess you’re not worried about dribbling.”
“I’m too fine to be concerning myself with dribbling,” Walker said. “Besides, they provide bibs.”
The two men sat.
“Lunch is on me,” Walker said.
“I’m touched,” Jesse said.
Walker looked at him. A waitress came by and took their orders. Fried oysters, crabs, and shrimp for Walker. Lobster roll for Jesse. Miller Genuine Draft for them both.
“Your reputation precedes you,” Jesse said.
“Don’t you believe a word of it,” Walker said. “I’m just a simple man trying to scratch out a meager living.”
“Yeah. I can see that,” Jesse said. “I suppose I should be impressed that you asked me to lunch. I gather that public sightings of Thomas Walker are as rare as yeti spottings.”
Walker showed Jesse a crooked, toothy grin.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he said.
“I suspected you wouldn’t.”
“Your reputation precedes you,” Walker said.
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Your relationship with Gino Fish hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
“You must have me confused with someone else,” Jesse said.
The food arrived, along with the promised bib for Walker.
“See,” he said, tying the bib around his neck. “Dribble protection.”
Jesse smiled.
“I guess you know where Clarice and I stand regarding your issue,” Walker said.
“You made it quite clear.”
“Just so’s you know.”
“You can’t be footing this lunch bill just to confirm some old news. What’s on your mind, Thomas?”
Walker dipped a pair of shrimp into a bowl of Reilly’s special red sauce and shoveled them into his mouth.
“I’m getting around to it,” he said, wiping the excess sauce from his lips. “Don’t you have any patience?”
“Not much. What is it you want?”
“I’ve gleaned a bit of information that should be to your liking,” Walker said. “The name of someone who might be helpful to you.”
“What name?”
“You want to know the conditions first?”
“I won’t accept any conditions,” Jesse said.
Walker looked at him.
“Then you might not find out what it is you’re seeking,” he said.
“Listen to me, Thomas. I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate your invitation to lunch. You carry a big mojo, and I don’t take your gesture toward me lightly. That having been said, however, if your information comes with any kind of strings attached, any sort of due bill, so to speak, then keep it to yourself. This is about the brutal murder of a young woman. It’s not about laying pipe.”
Walker didn’t say anything.
Jesse finished his lobster roll. He took a few sips of beer.
After a while, Walker said, “Not a lot of guys could get away with fronting me like that.”
Jesse nodded.
“All I’d have to do is look sideways,” Walker said with a glance at one of the young men at the next table.
“Consider me suitably fearful,” Jesse said.
“I’ve come up with a name,” Walker said.
“So you said.”
“Brother’s a dangerous person. He’s also a competitor.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Someone I don’t much care for.”
“Are you planning to carry on with all this boogie boogie, or are you actually going to tell me.”
“You ever hear the name Fat Boy Nelly?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Lately he’s been running a string of ladies in the
coastal corridor.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“He may have some connection to the dead girl.”
“Okay. How do I find him?”
Walker didn’t say anything.
“Look, Thomas. I have no desire to get involved in the politics between you and this Fat Boy person. If he can provide me with the girl’s name, I’ll be grateful.”
Walker dipped his hands into the finger bowl that the waitress had placed on the table, then dried them on a paper towel. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, placing it on the table in front of Jesse.
“No conditions,” Jesse said.
“None,” Walker said.
Jesse picked up the piece of paper.
“I gather it wouldn’t be good business for me to mention that it was you who gave me his number.”
“On the contrary. It’s only by you mentioning me that he’ll agree to talk to you. His sightings are even rarer than mine.”
Jesse didn’t say anything. He took a final sip of beer.
“Why,” he said.
“Why what?”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Clarice and I want to do our part. We feel it’s our duty.”
“Influenced by Mr. Fish, no doubt.”
“You’re a pretty cynical person, aren’t you, Mr. Stone?”
“Comes with the territory.”
“Clarice and I, we just want to help you bring about some justice.”
“I’m sure you do,” Jesse said as he stood. “I’m very much obliged.”
He offered his hand, and Walker took it.
“Thanks for the lunch,” Jesse said. “It was very tasty.”
Walker nodded.
Jesse looked at each of the men whose job it was to keep watch over Mr. Walker. Then he left the restaurant.
Norris Hopkins greeted Jesse in the waiting room of Rivers and Hopkins, the Paradise litigation specialists.
Hopkins was the senior partner, well into his sixties, smartly dressed, gray-haired and handsome, whose life partner, Craig Diamond, had been a patient at Golden Horizons.
Norris ushered Jesse into his elegantly furnished office, and they sat across from each other in a pair of leather armchairs.
“Coffee? Something to drink?”
“Thank you, Norris. I’m good. How’s Craig?”
“Oh, you know, Jesse. Good days and bad. We strived to create an orderly life, Craig and I. We firmly believed that order was the one essential ingredient of a life well lived. It’s amazing how fast illness can destroy order and replace it with immeasurable chaos.”
Robert B. Parker's Damned if You Do Page 4
