Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Acknowledgements
THE SPENSER NOVELS
Sixkill
Painted Ladies
The Professional
Rough Weather
Now & Then
Hundred-Dollar Baby
School Days
Cold Service
Bad Business
Back Story
Widow’s Walk
Potshot
Hugger Mugger
Hush Money
Sudden Mischief
Small Vices
Chance
Thin Air
Walking Shadow
Paper Doll
Double Deuce
Pastime
Stardust
Playmates
Crimson Joy
Pale Kings and Princes
Taming a Sea-Horse
A Catskill Eagle
Valediction
The Widening Gyre
Ceremony
A Savage Place
Early Autumn
Looking for Rachel Wallace
The Judas Goat
Promised Land
Mortal Stakes
God Save the Child
The Godwulf Manuscript
THE JESSE STONE NOVELS
Split Image
Night and Day
Stranger in Paradise
High Profile
Sea Change
Stone Cold
Death in Paradise
Trouble in Paradise
Night Passage
THE SUNNY RANDALL NOVELS
Spare Change
Blue Screen
Melancholy Baby
Shrink Rap
Perish Twice
Family Honor
ALSO BY ROBERT B. PARKER
Brimstone
Resolution
Appaloosa
Double Play
Gunman’s Rhapsody
All Our Yesterdays
A Year at the Races (with Joan H. Parker)
Perchance to Dream
Poodle Springs (with Raymond Chandler)
Love and Glory
Wilderness
Three Weeks in Spring (with Joan H. Parker)
Training with Weights (with John R. Marsh)
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA • Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) • Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi–110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Copyright © 2011 by The Estate of Robert B. Parker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. Published simultaneously in Canada
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Brandman, Michael.
Robert B. Parker’s Killing the blues / Michael Brandman.
p. cm.
ISBN : 978-1-101-54774-8
1. Stone, Jesse (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. City and town life—
Massachusetts—Fiction. 3. Police chiefs—Massachusetts—Fiction.
I. Parker, Robert B., 1932–2010. II. Title. III. Title: Killing the blues.
PS3602.R356R
813’.6—dc22
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
http://us.penguingroup.com
For Joanna . . .
. . . who makes everything possible . . .
. . . and for Bob
1
Coffee was the only thing on Jesse Stone’s mind when he entered the Paradise police station on a bright New England spring morning.
His first stop was usually the coffeemaker. But when he saw what was happening in front of Suitcase Simpson’s desk, which was located across the aisle from the kitchen area, he headed for his office.
A man and a woman, middle-aged, expensively dressed, and handsomely coiffed, were arguing loudly with Suitcase. The man was irate. His face was beet-red, and the woman was obviously concerned for him.
“Molly,” he said, “what’s going on?”
She followed him into his office.
“Tourists. Missing vehicle. They exited the turnpike at Paradise Road, looking for a place to have breakfast. They discovered Daisy’s. Sometime while they were eating, their car disappeared. Late-model Honda Civic.”
“What’s with the yelling,” Jesse said.
“They believe the car was towed.”
“And they think we towed it?”
“Yes. Because it was parked illegally.”
“You mean they didn’t park in Daisy’s lot?”
&nb
sp; “Correct.”
“And did they say why they didn’t park in Daisy’s lot?”
“When they chose Daisy’s, they weren’t certain they were gonna like it. So they parked on the street. In a red zone. When they decided it was okay, they never went back to move the car.”
“And that’s why they think it was towed?”
“Yes.”
“Was it?”
“Rich is checking on that as we speak.”
Jesse sighed.
“Molly, can I ask you a question?”
“Since when do you need permission to ask me a question,” she said.
“May I have a cup of coffee, please?”
“You may. There’s some fresh.”
“I know. I can smell it.”
“Do you want me to wait here while you get it?”
“I want you to get it for me.”
“You want me to get coffee for you?”
“Yes.”
She gave him the look.
“I don’t want to have to deal with those people just yet,” Jesse said.
“Because?”
“Because I’m the decider, and I have decided that I don’t want to deal with those people just yet. Will you please get me a cup of coffee?”
“You’re gonna owe me for this, Jesse,” Molly said, as she left the office.
It’s never easy, Jesse thought.
Molly returned with the coffee, followed by Suitcase and the couple from the hall.
“They wanted to speak with you directly,” Molly said, as she handed Jesse the cup.
The couple pushed past Molly and stood directly in front of Jesse’s desk.
“What are you doing about our car,” the man said.
“Jesse Stone,” Jesse said. “I’m the chief of police here.”
“Norman Steinberg,” the man said. “My wife, Linda. We want to know what you’re doing about our car.”
“Suit,” Jesse said. “What have we learned from Bauer?”
“He’s at Smitty’s Towing now, Jesse,” Suitcase said.
“And?”
“He hasn’t located it.”
“You mean it’s not there?”
“Looks like it, Jesse.”
“Could it be possible that the car was stolen?” Jesse said.
The phone rang, and Molly answered it.
“It’s Bauer,” she said to Jesse. “He wants to talk to you.”
Jesse picked up the phone.
“What have we got, Rich,” he said.
“We got a problem, Skipper,” Bauer said. “Not only is the Steinberg Honda not at Smitty’s, but there’s a woman here looking for her car, claiming that it, too, has gone missing. And the funny part is her car is also a Honda.”
When things had finally calmed down and the Steinbergs had been taken to Paradise Car Rental, Jesse sat quietly, thinking.
Today was moving day for him. He had finally acted on his wish to move out of the condo where he’d lived since coming to Paradise.
He had rented it when he first arrived, when his future was uncertain. Despite its view of the harbor, it was basically a utilitarian space that had served his needs at the time.
But as the years went by and his position in Paradise became more secure, he began to yearn for something more suited to his personality and his desire for privacy.
It was Captain Healy, the state homicide commander and a resident of Paradise, who had called Jesse’s attention to the small house situated on an inlet, not far from Paradise Cove. It was two stories, barely more than a cottage, positioned on a bluff overlooking the bay. Its weathered appearance and remoteness made it feel both mysterious and enticing.
It was owned by an elderly physician and his wife who decided they had finally lived through enough New England winters. They were moving to Florida to be near their children and grandchildren and away from the cold.
But they couldn’t bear to sell it. Their life had been in Paradise; their children had been born there.
The possibility existed that they might miss it too much and decide to return. As an interim step, they opted to rent it.
Healy knew the couple and made the introductions. He thought they would find security entrusting their home to the Paradise police chief.
It was well within Jesse’s price range, partially furnished, and isolated enough to be attractive to him. Despite the inconvenience of having to lug his groceries across the narrow footbridge that spanned the bay, he fell in love with the place at first sight.
What little furniture he owned would be handled by Dexter’s Movers. He had boxed and packed his few belongings and his clothing. Dexter’s would move it all.
Jesse had taken one final tour of the condo. Not sentimental by nature, he still had feelings for it, and as he prepared to leave it for the last time, he felt a momentary pang of uncertainty.
Then he’d thought better of it and turned the key in at the management office. He bid the condo good-bye.
His thoughts returned to the missing vehicles.
Only idiots and dead men believe in coincidence, he remembered having read somewhere. It wasn’t likely that the disappearance of two Hondas on the same day in the same town could be unrelated.
His first thought was that the cars had been stolen. He knew that gang-related automobile thefts often took place in New England, but they had never before occurred in Paradise.
The summer season was about to begin, and the last thing Jesse wanted to see in his office was the faces of tourists whose vehicles had disappeared.
And although he cared little for him, Jesse was certain the same would hold true for Carter Hansen, the current head of the Paradise Board of Selectmen.
As he left his office, Jesse could hear the sound of warning bells tolling ominously in his brain.
2
Carter Hansen waited for Jesse to enter the meeting hall before bringing the annual State of the Summer in Paradise conference to order.
As was his custom, Jesse took a seat in the back row, alongside Molly and Suitcase.
Today’s conference had attracted a good-sized audience, comprised mostly of town luminaries and interested citizens.
Most of the regular Paradise police officers were there. Peter Perkins. Arthur Angstrom. Richard Bauer. There were a few of the new summer hires as well.
The five members of the board of selectmen were seated on the dais, including the newly reelected Hastings Hathaway, once the head selectman.
Hasty had owned the First City Bank of Paradise. Facing possible failure, however, he had aligned himself with a Boston-based mobster and had begun using the bank to launder money, a career that abruptly ended when his crimes were discovered by Jesse Stone, whom Hasty himself had hired.
He was apprehended, tried, and sentenced to five years in prison, a sentence that was later reduced to two years. With time off for good behavior, Hasty wound up serving only sixteen months.
Upon his release, having been legally barred from returning to the world of banking, Hasty opened an upscale used car dealership.
His infectious ebullience and easy charm contributed to his success, and when he sought reelection to the board, running on a “redemption” platform, he won handily.
Carter Hansen, who had become the head selectman by default when Hasty had gone to jail, was none too happy to welcome him back. He believed that the board of selectmen was no place for a convicted felon. Hansen was also unhappy that years ago, against his better judgment, Hasty had hired Jesse Stone.
Although Hansen was forced to admit that Chief Stone turned out to be an effective lawman, there was no love lost between them.
He gaveled the meeting to order.
“Citizens of Paradise,” he said, pleased with the sound of his voice. “This meeting will now come to order. The summer season is once again upon us, and there is much to be done.”
His gaze settled on Jesse.
“Chief Stone, have you anything you want to tell us regarding y
our plans for the summer?”
Jesse remained seated and silent, creating a moment of discomfort for Hansen. Finally, he stood and spoke.
“We’re ready,” he said.
Then he sat back down.
“That’s it,” Hansen said. “That’s all you have to say?”
Jesse nodded.
On the dais, Selectman Morris Comden leaned over to snicker in Hansen’s ear.
“Not too much of a talker, is he?”
Hansen ignored the remark.
“For the record, Chief Stone, let it be known that the board of selectmen has approved funding for the hiring of additional law enforcement personnel for the summer season. This will give us a greater capability in the service of tourism, which is Paradise’s principal source of income. I assume this meets with your approval.”
“It does,” Jesse said.
“I assume that the force has been properly instructed as to the acceptable rules of behavior for a long and arduous summer season.”
“It has.”
Jesse noticed that Molly was staring at him with a look of exasperation on her face.
He turned to her and grinned.
Carter Hansen sat silently.
Jesse sat silently.
Finally, Hansen spoke.
“All right, then,” he said. “Now that we’ve heard from Chief Stone, I’d like to introduce Alexis Richardson, who has been hired to head the public-relations and event-planning campaign for the upcoming season. It will be up to Alexis to spread the word that Paradise is the hot new location for summer tourism.”
Jesse watched as a young woman in the front row stood and, amid a scattering of applause, made her way to the lectern.
He listened attentively as she discussed her plans to create a summer music festival. She looked to be in her late twenties, exceptionally pretty and fashionably slender. She wore a black Donna Karan summer suit with a very short skirt and a white open-collared blouse. A simple gold chain adorned her neck. Her pale skin was complemented by expertly styled shoulderlength jet-black hair, which she constantly brushed from her forehead with a swipe of her hand.
As she spoke, her eyes scanned the audience, stopping occasionally on Jesse. Her talk was short, and afterward she returned to her seat.
Killing the Blues Page 1
