Robert B. Parker's Damned if You Do

by Michael Brandman

“Exactly.”

  “And then what?”

  “We bring it back and tell Flip Connell to stick it where the sun don’t shine.”

  The convoy arrived at Golden Horizons shortly after six o’clock. Jesse and Suitcase led the procession in Jesse’s cruiser. Marty Reagan had joined them and was seated in the back. Behind them, Captain Mickey Kurtz rode in the fire chief’s sedan; Alan Hollett and Harold Brown rode together in an official Buildings Department Buick LeSabre. Bringing up the rear were two more cruisers, each packed with police officers.

  They entered the property with their sirens blaring and parked in front of the main building. After the officers did a quick check of their weapons, they went inside.

  They were met not only by members of the staff, but by most of the remaining residents as well, many of whom were crowded into the main foyer, staring wide-eyed at the police officers, chattering loudly among themselves. Chuck Dempsey pushed his way through the crowd and approached the officials.

  “What’s going on here,” he said.

  “The jig’s up,” Jesse said to him.

  He turned to Marty Reagan and said, “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  With their faces grim, Kurtz, Hollett, and Brown, each accompanied by an armed police officer, headed inside. Dempsey watched them go. He looked at the documents that had been handed to him, then he turned to Jesse.

  “No one’s around,” he said.

  “Meaning?”

  “Connell and Morrow aren’t here.”

  “It makes no difference. We’re going to perform our inspections regardless.”

  “I’m not supposed to let you in.”

  “Too late.”

  “And you’re going to inspect us?”

  “Officially.”

  “I guess I’d better find them.”

  Dempsey looked around at the residents, then walked quickly away.

  • • •

  After completing their inspections, the three senior officials reported back to Jesse.

  “Nothing,” Kurtz said. “It’s exactly the same as it was.”

  “No trace of any corrective actions having been taken?”

  “Not anywhere that I could see,” Hollett said.

  “Not in the kitchen,” Brown said.

  “Thanks, guys,” Jesse said. “We’ll proceed to phase two.”

  Jesse looked around at the residents and raised his arms in an effort to quiet them.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I’m Jesse Stone, the chief of police here in Paradise. I apologize if we have upset you in any way.”

  The group’s focus turned to Jesse.

  “I’m very sorry to inform you that due to a number of issues regarding the physical condition of the Golden Horizons buildings, the city has decided to condemn them.

  “We don’t want you to be alarmed. We’ll make it as easy for you as we possibly can. We will begin the process of finding suitable accommodations for you, and no closure or diminution of services will take place until each of you has been satisfactorily resettled.”

  Pointing to Suitcase, Jesse said, “This is my deputy, Luther Simpson. He’ll be in charge of supervising the transition. Every effort will be made to ensure your safety and comfort. Officer Simpson, along with representatives of a number of nearby retirement facilities, will be in the dining room to answer your questions and assist you in the resettlement process. Your families or representatives will be notified. I’m very sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you. In the long run, this action will prove to be in your best interests, ensuring that each of you will be housed in a safe and sanitary dwelling.”

  Suitcase raised his hand and led a procession of the residents into the dining room.

  Jesse summoned Officers Rich Bauer and Dave Muntz. He pointed them toward the main entrance.

  “No one in or out without proper ID,” he said.

  Bauer and Muntz nodded and headed for the doors.

  “That went well,” Marty Reagan said to Jesse.

  “Wait,” he said. “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.”

  It wasn’t long before a sleek black Lexus sedan pulled up in front of Golden Horizons and Philip Connell emerged from the backseat. He hurried to the main entrance, where he encountered Muntz and Bauer. He tried to step around them and enter the building. They stopped him.

  “What do you think you’re doing,” Connell said.

  “May we please see some identification, sir,” Muntz said.

  “I own this place,” Connell said, and attempted to muscle his way past Muntz.

  Once again, the two officers blocked his way.

  “ID, please,” Muntz said.

  “Move, asshole,” Connell said to Muntz. “I already told you that I’m the owner.”

  Muntz didn’t say anything. Infuriated, Connell made the mistake of trying to push him out of his way. Muntz gave a little ground when Connell shoved him, but he managed to move slightly to his left and place his right leg behind Connell’s. Then he put his right arm on Connell’s chest, hip-checked him, and swept him over his leg. Connell went crashing to the floor.

  It was then that Jesse stepped through the door, followed by Marty Reagan.

  Noticing him, Connell said, “Just what do you think you’re doing, Stone?”

  Jesse reached out to help Connell to his feet, but he refused the assistance. He stood and brushed himself off.

  “Answer me,” Connell said.

  “These buildings have been officially condemned.”

  “Rest assured that my lawyers will have something to say about that.”

  “Perhaps you might be better served if your lawyers concerned themselves with assisting in the resettlement of the residents.”

  “Are you trying to tell me my business, Stone?”

  “Not at all. From the look of things, you appear to be doing an excellent job of that all by yourself.”

  “You haven’t heard the last of me,” Connell said to Jesse.

  “No doubt.”

  “You’ll be sorry you ever met me, Stone.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ll pay for this. Big-time.”

  “Is that some kind of a threat, Mr. Connell,” Jesse said.

  “Take it as you choose.”

  Jesse turned to Marty Reagan, who was standing behind him.

  “Did you hear that, Marty,” he said.

  “I did hear that.”

  “Sounded like a threat to me.”

  “It did to me, too.”

  Jesse turned to Dave Muntz.

  “Arrest this man,” he said.

  “Now you’re going to arrest me,” Connell shouted.

  “For threatening a police officer,” Jesse said.

  “You know what, Stone? Fuck you.”

  “Dave,” Jesse said.

  Muntz removed the handcuffs from his service belt and snapped them onto Connell’s wrists. Then he took firm hold of Connell’s right arm and forcibly pushed him in the direction of his cruiser. He opened the left rear door of the car and, still holding Connell’s arm, guided him into it. Instead of protecting Connell’s head when he was entering the car, however, Muntz slammed it into the door frame.

  “Jesus,” Connell said, glowering at Muntz.

  “Oops,” Muntz said.

  Connell glanced back at Jesse.

  “This isn’t over,” he said.

  “Anyone taking bets on that,” Jesse said.

  Vinnie Morris had agreed to meet Jesse at the Oakwood Lanes, a bowling alley located in Dedham.

  They sat at a table near the bar, in the back, overlooking the alleys. It was late afternoon, and the place was half empty. The familiar sound of sixteen-pound spheres of Lucite speeding down highly polished wooden lanes and then slamming into three-pound, six-ounce maplewood tenpins was familiar and welcome. They each nursed a Coors draft.

  “You ever bowl anymore,” Jesse said.

  “Not since high s
chool.”

  “Me either.”

  “I’m occasionally tempted, though.”

  “But you don’t succumb.”

  “No.”

  “Me, too. I wonder why.”

  “Seems irrelevant.”

  “You ever play pool?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Me neither,” Jesse said.

  “Also seems irrelevant.”

  “The games of our youth.”

  “Irrelevant,” Vinnie said. “Did you ask me here so that we could mourn the past or was there something specific you had in mind?”

  Jesse sighed.

  Then he said, “Can you please give me the straight scoop as to what exactly is going on.”

  “How about you tell me what you think is going on and I’ll either confirm or deny it.”

  Jesse took a sip of his Coors.

  “Thomas versus Nelly,” Jesse said. “World War Three?”

  “Nowhere near,” Vinnie said.

  Jesse looked at him.

  “The smart money is on Nelly,” Vinnie said. “Kid’s a player. He’s got Thomas on the ropes. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Before?”

  “We live in an insular universe, Jesse. The right hand always knows what the left hand is doing. This so-called turf war is already over. Thomas just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “When?”

  “When will he know it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Soon enough.”

  “And then?”

  “Welcome to the twenty-first century.”

  “Gino?”

  “Always works in mysterious ways.”

  “He’s behind this?”

  Vinnie didn’t say anything.

  “What do you advise?”

  “Buy Google,” Vinnie said.

  He briefly placed his hand on Jesse’s shoulder as he left.

  Jesse stood in the back of the rec room at the Hebrew Home for the Aged, watching as a group of elderly men and women were led through a rigorous set of exercises, supervised by a fit-looking middle-aged guy in a light blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants.

  When the drill ended, many of the participants simply sank to the floor, some breathing heavily, all weary from their exertions.

  Jesse walked to where Donnie Jacobs was sitting and knelt down beside him.

  “That’ll get the old ticker going,” Jesse said.

  “I’ll say,” Donnie said.

  “Looking good, Donnie,” Jesse said.

  Donnie stared at him.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Then he stared off into space, his eyes blank.

  “It’s me, Donnie. Jesse.”

  Donnie looked at him.

  “Jesse,” he said.

  “Your friend. Your former client.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me, Jesse. My memory’s not what it used to be. You say you were my client?”

  “You were my accountant.”

  “I was?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I’m sorry, Jesse. I seem to be quite confused about things these days.”

  “Not to worry.”

  “You came here to see me?”

  “I did.”

  “Because I was your accountant?”

  “Because we’re friends.”

  “I’m sorry, Jesse. I feel like such a jerk.”

  “It’s all right, Donnie,” Jesse said. “I understand.”

  The man who had been leading the exercises began to clap his hands for attention. The room quieted.

  “That’s all for today,” the man said. “Same time tomorrow. Lunch is next.”

  The various exercisers got up from the floor and started to file out of the gym. Jesse stood and offered his hand to Donnie, who took it. Jesse helped him up, and together they wandered outside.

  “How do you like it here,” Jesse said.

  “Emma brought me here. It’s where I live,” Donnie said.

  “And you like it.”

  “I do.”

  “And they treat you well.”

  “I think so.”

  “You look a whole lot better than you did at Golden Horizons.”

  “Golden Horizons?”

  “Where you lived before.”

  “I lived there before?”

  Jesse nodded.

  An attendant came hurrying in their direction, his face registering a measure of concern.

  “Donnie,” he said, “we’ve been looking for you. It’s time for lunch.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jesse said. “It’s probably my fault for delaying him.”

  “And you are,” the attendant said.

  “An old friend come to visit.”

  “I’m afraid I need to take Donnie for his lunch.”

  “That’s fine,” Jesse said to the attendant.

  To Donnie he said, “You take good care, Donnie.”

  “Thanks, Jesse,” Donnie said. “I have to go eat my lunch now.”

  Jesse smiled and watched as the attendant led Donnie away. He shook his head and stood there for a while. Then, finally, he gathered himself and left the building.

  Jesse parked in front of the footbridge that led to his house and got out of his Explorer. As he was gathering the supermarket bags from the backseat, he spotted Fat Boy Nelly leaning against one of the bridge stanchions, his face pointed up at the sun.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” Jesse said.

  Nelly smiled.

  “You want to come in?”

  “I never been inside no policeman’s house before,” Nelly said.

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “Yeah,” Nelly said.

  “Willing to carry some groceries?”

  “No problem.”

  They emptied the Explorer and carried the groceries across the bridge and into Jesse’s kitchen.

  Nelly was dressed pretty much as he had been the last time Jesse saw him, except now he was wearing a blue-and-white New York Giants jersey, embroidered on the back with the number ten and the name Manning. His Nikes remained unlaced and floppy. He looked around the house.

  “This is nice,” he said. “Remote.”

  “Remote’s good,” Jesse said. “Drink?”

  “No alcohol. Water is good.”

  Jesse fixed Nelly a glass of ice water, and the two men went out onto the porch. Nelly sat on one of the two armchairs, and Mildred Memory, Jesse’s cat, jumped onto his lap and stood there, staring at him. Nelly stared back.

  “Cats love me,” he said.

  As if to prove his point, Mildred settled herself onto his lap and began to purr loudly.

  “See?”

  “Is there a reason you’re here,” Jesse said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You going to tell me?”

  “Word is that Thomas Walker be goin’ around saying he out to kill you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Motherfucker be carrying on about how you trespassed into his arena.”

  “His arena.”

  “Said you messed with his bitch’s head. Riled her all up. Aroused her suspicions.”

  “He’s not over that?”

  “Apparently not. Leastways, that’s the word on the street.”

  “And the warning he gave me?”

  “He gave you a warning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Had to be a lie. He say it to put you off your guard.”

  “And now he’s saying that he’s going to kill me.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything. Nelly stroked the cat.

  “You were the last person to see Janet Becquer alive,” Jesse said.

  “Not me,” Nelly said.

  “You came to see her on the day she died.”

  “I did. But I never did see her. Not alive, that is.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything.

  “She phone me,” Nelly said. “She say she ready to talk deal
. Tell me she want to work with me. Say she have a lot of ideas.”

  “What about her conditions,” Jesse said.

  “How you know she had conditions?”

  “Jimmy Sloan.”

  “Dumbest white man on the planet, that guy. He try to sell her a bill of goods ’bout how he could look after her if she work exclusively out of his rat-trap motel.”

  “So she wanted him involved?”

  “She wanted Nelly involved. Much more so than she did that dumb ass. She ask me to come around so’s we could talk about it. We never did, though.”

  “Because?”

  “’Cause when I get there, I see Thomas Walker’s Mercedes parked a block away.”

  “Walker was with her?”

  “Walker and his stiletto was with her.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I find a place to hole up, and I wait around for a while.”

  “And?”

  “I hear a scream. Then I hear another scream, this one choked off. Then I see Thomas leave the bungalow in a big rush.”

  “And?”

  “After he gone, I go look for myself. Through the window. I see what he done to that girl and then I get right the fuck out of there.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “You can believe whatever you want to believe. But this be the truth. I got no reason to lie to you.”

  Jesse sat silently for a while.

  Then he said, “Once Walker figured out she was going into business with you, he had no choice but to kill her.”

  “Retribution?”

  “Embarrassment, too. He had been seen publicly with her. More than once.”

  “So when he get wind of her plannin’ to hook up with me, he off her.”

  “Be my guess,” Jesse said.

  “You figure Walker knows you know?”

  “Yes.”

  They sat silently for a while.

  “I’m gonna take that son of a bitch down.”

  “Vengeance?”

  “Defense,” Nelly said. “Vengeance, too. Janet be one of my ladies. I can’t let nobody get away with doin’ in one of my ladies.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything.

  Nelly ran his hand along Mildred Memory’s spine, watching her rear end spring upward every time he got anywhere near her tail.

  “What you think about me havin’ your back,” he said.

  “My back,” Jesse said.

  “Watchin’ out for you. You know, coverin’ your ass.”