“I do,” Sunny said.
“Where?”
“In my purse,” Sunny said. “Sometimes I tuck it into my stocking top if I’m expecting action.”
“You’re not wearing stockings,” Cheryl said.
“A weak attempt at humor,” Sunny said. “Purse is fine.”
“How’d you get to be a private eye,” Cheryl said.
The boyfriend watched Sunny closely.
“My father is a retired police captain,” Sunny said. “I was a police officer for a while. . . . Just seemed a good idea at the time.”
“You married?”
“No.”
“Ever been?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“None of your business,” Sunny said.
The boyfriend looked at her harder. Cheryl shrugged.
“Just asking,” she said.
Sunny nodded.
“You like it here?” Sunny said.
“I can’t believe they hired a detective to come talk to me,” Cheryl said.
Sunny nodded.
“So,” she said. “How do you like it here?”
“Here?”
Sunny nodded brightly.
“Here,” she said.
“It’s very cool here, isn’t it, Todd?”
The boyfriend nodded.
“What’s the coolest part of it,” Sunny said.
“No hassle,” Cheryl said. “Everyone here is really, you know, mellowed out.”
“No rules,” Sunny said.
“Well, a’course, there gotta be rules,” Cheryl said.
“What are they?”
“No drugs, no alcohol, no smoking,” Cheryl said. “No meanness.”
“ ‘No meanness’?” Sunny said.
“You know, no being mean to anybody.”
“Oh,” Sunny said. “And if you break the rules?”
“The group has a gathering,” Cheryl said, “and decides.”
“What’s the worst punishment?”
“You have to leave the group.”
“How about sex,” Sunny said. “Any rules on that?”
“You think sex is bad?”
“No,” Sunny said. “I like it.”
Cheryl looked faintly startled.
“They got no rules on sex,” she said. “As long as you keep it real.”
“ ‘Real’?”
“You know, with somebody you, like, love,” Cheryl said.
Sunny nodded. Nothing conflicted with the Patriarch’s version.
“So, you’re here because you want to be,” Sunny said.
“Exactly,” Cheryl said. “I’m with Todd. We got friends, a life, stuff to do, people to help us.”
“How ’bout twenty years from now?” Sunny said.
Cheryl stared at her for a moment.
“When you were eighteen,” Cheryl said, “were you worrying about twenty years later?”
Sunny smiled.
“No,” she said. “I wasn’t.”
“So?” Cheryl said.
“Good point,” Sunny said.
She stood.
“Todd,” she said, “I want to whisper a couple things to Cheryl over by the railing there. Girl stuff, might be a little embarrassing.”
Todd shrugged as if he knew just what she meant. Sunny beckoned Cheryl and walked to the railing. Below in the harbor, someone’s yacht, sails loosely furled, was edging in toward the town landing under power. Cheryl came and stood beside her.
“Anything you want to say that Todd can’t hear?” Sunny said softly.
“Todd? He’s my boyfriend.”
“I understand,” Sunny said. “But I just need to be sure. Is there any restraint on your leaving?”
“I don’t want to leave.”
Sunny nodded. “I know that, too,” she said. “But if you did want to leave, would there be anything to prevent you?”
“No,” Cheryl said.
“And you don’t want to leave?”
“God, no.”
“I’ll take you out now if you want to go,” Sunny said.
“I don’t want to go,” Cheryl said. “Why won’t you believe me?”
“I do believe you,” Sunny said. “I just have to be sure.”
“Well, be sure,” Cheryl said, and turned away and walked back to sit beside Todd.
Sunny followed and stood in front of Cheryl.
“If I brought your parents here,” Sunny said, “would you talk to them?”
Cheryl made a dismissive sound.
“They aren’t going to come here,” she said.
“Maybe not,” Sunny said. “But if they did?”
“Sure,” Cheryl said. “If you stayed with us.”
“I will,” Sunny said. “But why?”
“They’re clueless,” Cheryl said.
“And I’m not?”
“You don’t seem it,” Cheryl said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Cheryl said. “Most grown-ups are clueless.”
“Maybe they just know different clues,” Sunny said.
“Whatever,” Cheryl said. “Doesn’t much matter anyway. They are so totally not going to come.”
“Let me ask them,” Sunny said, “and I’ll let you know.”
“I don’t mind talking to you,” Cheryl said.
13
MRS. MOYNIHAN let Jesse in. She looked just like Rebecca Galen.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Robbie Moynihan.”
“Jesse Stone.”
“Please come in,” Robbie said. “My husband and I were just having coffee. Would you care for some?”
“That would be nice,” Jesse said.
“Follow me,” she said.
Jesse followed her through the house, which looked very much like the Galens’ house. Her backside looked very much like Rebecca’s.
“So, whaddya need from me, Stone,” Knocko said, when Jesse was seated.
He was a big man gone soft. You could still see what he was, Jesse thought, though it was disappearing fast. Robbie sat beside him and looked attentive as he spoke.
“Fella named Ognowski was killed around here, couple days ago,” Jesse said. “We’re just canvassing the neighborhood.”
Knocko laughed.
“You’re canvassing me and Reggie,” he said.
“It’s where we’ve begun,” Jesse said. “You know Ognowski?”
“Petey? Sure I know him. He worked for my brother-i n-law.”
“Any reason you know that somebody would kill him?” Jesse said.
“Not a clue,” Knocko said. He looked at his wife. “You, sweetheart?”
“Petey.” Robbie shook her head. “Petey was the nicest man.”
“As leg breakers go,” Jesse said.
“That’s not so,” Robbie said. “Petey was a sweet man.”
She smiled at her husband.
“Like Francis,” she said.
“Francis,” Jesse said.
“My real name,” Knocko said.
“Where’d Knocko come from?” Jesse said.
“When I was a kid,” Knocko said, “I used to be kind of a rough guy.”
“Petey do any work for you?” Jesse said.
“I’m retired,” Knocko said. “He used to run some errands now and then for Robbie.”
“Like what?” Jesse said.
Knocko looked at his wife.
“Honey?” he said.
“Oh, pick up something at the market, take something to the cleaner’s. He did the same for Becca.”
“That was it?” Jesse said.
“You know Reggie was in the rackets once,” Knocko said. “Everybody knows that. You’re in the rackets, even if you ain’t anymore, you need some security.”
“Which Bob’s in charge of,” Jesse said. “For Reggie.”
“Yeah.”
“We all know you were in the rackets once,” Jesse said. “Who does your security?”
“Secur
ity’s kind of a fancy word,” Knocko said, and winked at Robbie. “Got a buddy walks around with me.”
“What’s his name?” Jesse said.
“Ray Mulligan,” Knocko said. “Met in grade school. Nuns seated us alphabetically, you know? I was always right next to Ray.”
He patted Robbie’s arm. She smiled at him.
“You’re Rebecca Galen’s twin sister,” Jesse said.
“Yes, identical twins. Unless we dress differently, even we have trouble telling us apart.”
“What was your, ah, birth name?” Jesse said.
“Why you wanna know that?” Knocko said.
“’Cause I don’t know,” Jesse said. “You been questioned before, Knocko. You know that cops ask questions to see where they lead.”
“You ever been a cop anyplace but here?” Knocko said.
“Why you wanna know that?” Jesse said.
“’Cause I don’t know,” Knocko said.
Jesse smiled.
“I worked robbery homicide in L.A. for a while,” Jesse said.
“So you done something but hand out traffic tickets,” Knocko said.
“Not much,” Jesse said. “What was your maiden name, Mrs. Moynihan?”
She looked at her husband. Knocko nodded.
“Bangston,” she said. “Roberta and Rebecca, the Bangston twins.”
“And how’d you two meet?” Jesse said.
Knocko shook his head.
He said, “Enough, Stone. You got no reason to suspect us of anything. We got no reason to sit here and blab about our private lives with you.”
“I know,” Jesse said. “Just curious how twin sisters ended up marrying a couple of thugs like you and Reggie.”
“Thugs is kind of a harsh word,” Knocko said.
“Extralegal entrepreneurs,” Jesse said.
“Better,” Knocko said.
“You guys ever adversaries?” Jesse said.
“No, no problem with Reggie and me. He had the North Shore. I had the South . . . ’fore we retired.”
Jesse shrugged.
“Still kind of odd,” he said.
“Are you married, Chief Stone?” Robbie said.
“No.”
“Ever been?” she said.
“Yes,” he said.
“Then perhaps you have noticed,” Robbie said, “that love is odd.”
“I have,” Jesse said.
14
JESSE MADE his first drink of the day carefully. Tall glass, a lot of ice, not too much scotch, a lot of soda. If he got it right, it always resulted in a nice drink that made him feel fresh.
He took the glass to his living room and sat at the bar. He raised his glass toward the picture of Ozzie Smith.
“Howya doing, Wizard,” he said, and took a swallow.
He’d done it right; it was dry and clean and cold.
The room was silent except for the soft sound of the air-conditioning, which somehow made everything seem more silent. He drank again, looking across his living room and through the French doors at the diminishing daylight that now had a faint blue tinge to it. He liked the silence, and the bluish light, and being alone. He might have liked being alone more if there was someone else in the house, or expected home.
“Maybe I should get a dog,” Jesse said.
He drank.
“Except who takes care of it when I’m working. If I had a wife, she could take care of it. But if I had a wife, I wouldn’t need the dog.”
He drank.
“I’d want a dog anyway,” Jesse said.
Ozzie Smith had no reaction. Jesse’s glass was empty. He went to the kitchen and made another. He felt like getting drunk. Why was that? Often he was happy with a couple of drinks and supper. He took his drink back to the living room.
“Who’s here to tell me no?” Jesse said.
What would Dix say? Jesse would say that if behavior changed, there was probably a reason for it. And he would say he had no way to know what that reason was. But Jesse knew Dix would think it was still about Jenn.
“The hell with Jenn,” Jesse said.
So why today, and not, say, two days ago, or last Thursday. Why tonight did he feel pretty sure he wouldn’t settle for two drinks?
He looked at Ozzie Smith again.
“I’da made the show, Oz,” Jesse said. “Hadn’t busted up my shoulder, I’d have made the show.”
He took a swallow.
“I’m a good cop, too . . . sober.”
How did it happen that two thugs like Galen and Moynihan ended up with two beautiful women who seemed devoted to them? And he had ended up with Jenn.
“Whoops,” he said.
He put his drink down and sat back in is chair. . . . That’s why he wanted to get drunk.
He was jealous. . . . No, jealous wasn’t quite it. . . . He had seen the marriage he wished he’d had, and he’d seen two of them in two days. It underscored the failure of his own marriage. They had gotten women who wanted to make their husbands happy. He’d gotten one who wanted to be famous. He was an honest cop. They were mobsters.
He went to the kitchen and made himself another drink.
Love is odd, all right . . . and unfair . . . and it sucks. . . . Doesn’t always suck, though. Working really well for Reggie and Knocko . . . Thought I was through worrying about it . . . Jenn’s history . . . Thought I was past that . . . Guess I’m not . . . Maybe I can drink it into submission.
He drank some more.
15
THE PHONE RANG. Jesse ignored it. His mouth was very dry, but he was too asleep to get any water. The phone rang again.
“Shut up,” Jesse said, and didn’t answer it.
He slept some more and then someone began pounding on his front door. He ignored it. The pounding continued. He could hear someone’s raised voice. He rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes. It was day. He looked at the digital clock: eleven-thirteen.
His head ached and his stomach was queasy. The pounding and yelling at the front door continued. He sat up. He was fully dressed, shoes and all. He stood. The room swam a little and then steadied. He walked slowly to the front door and opened it. Molly Crane was there. She looked at Jesse and then came in without a word and closed the door behind her.
“Take a shower,” she said. “Put on clean clothes. I’ll make coffee.”
Jesse looked at her for a moment.
“Wha’s up,” he said.
“Brush your teeth, too,” Molly said.
Jesse nodded.
“Okay, but wha’s going on?” he said.
“Somebody killed Knocko Moynihan last night,” Molly said.
Jesse nodded, then turned and headed for the bathroom. He brushed his teeth. He shaved. He stayed under the shower for a long time. When he came out wearing clean clothes, Molly had coffee made, a glass of orange juice poured, two pieces of toast on a saucer. A bottle of aspirin stood beside the toast. Jesse sat.
“No toast,” Jesse said.
“Eat the toast,” Molly said. “Shape your stomach must be in, you don’t want to put aspirin in there without food.”
Jesse nodded. The room distorted for a moment and settled. He drank some juice.
“Feel human?” Molly said.
“No,” Jesse said.
“Can you listen?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Lifeguard found Knocko this morning, about six o’clock, sitting upright on a bench under the little pavilion at Paradise Beach. He’d been shot in the back of the head. There wasn’t much blood. We’re guessing he was shot someplace else and put there. But we don’t have an ME report yet.”
Jesse drank some coffee to wash down a bite of toast.
“Who’s running it?” he said.
“Suit, I guess, and me,” Molly said. “Selectmen are in a twidgit looking for you.”
“Press?”
“Quite a bit,” Molly said. “Knocko was famous, I guess.”
“TV?” Jesse said.
&n
bsp; “Two stations,” Molly said. “Stand-ups by the beach pavilion.”
“Scared to death of TV,” Jesse said.
“The selectmen?”
Jesse nodded and wished he hadn’t.
“’Specially the new guy,” Molly said.
Jesse started to nod and stopped himself.
“McAfee,” he said.
“Yeah,” Molly said. “He’s terrified he’ll say something wrong on camera.”
Jesse finished his first piece of toast.
“Okay,” Molly said. “Take your aspirin.”
Jesse took two and swallowed them with the remaining orange juice.
“He know where I’ve been?” Jesse said.
“Suit told them you were out of town, something to do with your ex-wife.”
“Better than passed out from strong drink, I guess,” Jesse said.
“I guess,” Molly said.
She poured Jesse a second cup of coffee.
“You going to eat the other piece of toast?” she said.
“Can’t,” Jesse said.
“I can,” Molly said, and picked it up from his plate and broke off a piece.
“Someday you can tell me what set you off,” Molly said, when she had finished chewing.
“Yep.”
“But right now we got to rescue the situation,” Molly said.
“Okay,” Jesse said.
“You up to it?”
“After this coffee,” Jesse said.
Molly nodded and ate the rest of the toast.
16
SUNNY SAT in the vast ornamental living room of a disproportionate McMansion in Concord with Elsa and John Markham.
“You’ve talked to our daughter?” Elsa said.
“I have.”
“How is she?”
“She seems fine,” Sunny said.
“She’s still in that place,” Elsa said.
Elsa Markham was slim and tall with silver-blond hair and a dark tan. Her husband was also slim and tall. But his hair was dark and worn longish. He, too, had a deep tan.
“Yes,” Sunny said. “She’s at the Renewal place.”
“Does she have friends?”
“She has a boyfriend,” Sunny said. “He seemed nice.”
He hadn’t seemed anything to Sunny, but she thought it might reassure them.
“Oh, God,” Elsa said. “Unsupervised, of course.”
“Well, actually,” Sunny said, “there’s quite a lot of supervision; at least there are quite a few rules. No drugs, no alcohol, no smoking; interestingly enough, no meat.”
The Jesse Stone Novels 6-9 Page 56
