Killing the Blues

by Michael Brandman

Jesse remained silent.

  “I became aware of that fact when you arrested Mr. Tauber. I should have known about him, but somehow . . .” Mrs. Nelson said.

  Jesse still didn’t say anything.

  “I’m not trying to make excuses for myself. Upon reflection, I came to realize that over time my job had become different. With the economy faltering, my attentions were more focused on administrative concerns. Layoffs. Reductions in services. Making do with less. The demands of the job increased. Conditions changed. I changed. As a result, I lost sight of the very thing that should have been paramount, as you so aptly put it. I’m horrified that I wasn’t aware of what Tauber had been doing. I’m embarrassed by how badly I mishandled Lisa Barry.”

  Jesse remained silent.

  “The rules regarding bullying are so vague,” she said. “Did the incident occur on campus or off? Was it in-person bullying, or was it the cyberspace kind? Was it physical or psychological? I guess I’m guilty of having buried my head in the sand.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you helped open my eyes.”

  “Have you discussed this with the members of the school board?”

  “No.”

  “Have you submitted your resignation,” Jesse said.

  “I sent them a letter.”

  “To which they replied?”

  “They haven’t yet.”

  “Perhaps you should request a meeting. To at least inform them of what you’ve told me. To make them aware of the changes which affected your job performance so dramatically.”

  “What difference would that make,” Mrs. Nelson said.

  “A big one. You could explain to them how things evolved and discuss ways in which they might be bettered,” Jesse said.

  “Knowing what you think of me, why would you make such a suggestion?”

  “Because of what you just told me.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I understand your situation more clearly.”

  “What about separating me from my job, as you so eloquently put it?”

  “People are allowed to change their minds.”

  “Are you suggesting that you changed your mind, Chief Stone?”

  “Jesse,” Jesse said.

  “Jesse,” Mrs. Nelson said.

  “I am, Mrs. Nelson.”

  “Eleanor,” she said.

  “Eleanor.”

  Mrs. Nelson had to look away for a moment.

  “Thank you, Jesse,” Mrs. Nelson said. “I believe I can convince the board to allow me to rescind my resignation and discuss these issues with me. I think I can help effectuate change.”

  “Change would be good,” Jesse said.

  She stood.

  He stood.

  She reached out her hand. He took it.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” he said.

  “I will,” she said.

  After Mrs. Nelson left, Jesse asked Suitcase to bring in Robert Lopresti.

  “This is a surprise,” said Jesse, when Lopresti entered his office.

  “I hope you’re not gonna kill me,” Robert said.

  “Not just yet,” Jesse said. “Why are you here?”

  “You’re the only one I can talk to,” Lopresti said.

  “About what,” Jesse said.

  “You were honorable with me,” Lopresti said. “You lived up to your word.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything.

  “I guess you heard that Mr. Lombardo got aced,” Lopresti said.

  “Eloquently stated.”

  “When I was in that room, I had the chance to do some thinking. You told me that I was one of the bad guys. I never thought of myself like that before. I got kids, you know. They missed me. My wife was never so scared as when I was being held. I got to thinking that I’d like to stop being a bad guy.”

  “And you’re telling me this because . . . ?”

  “Because I want you to help me.”

  “You want me to help you,” Jesse said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Help you how?”

  “I want to get a job in Paradise.”

  “A job?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “I’m a great mechanic,” Robert said. “Always have been. I just never did it legitimately.”

  “Define ‘great mechanic.’ ”

  “There’s nothing I don’t know about cars. I can take ’em apart and rebuild ’em. I know every part of every car. Cars are in my blood.”

  “And you want me to find you a job as a mechanic,” Jesse said.

  “Yeah.”

  “So that you can think of yourself as a good guy?”

  “So my family can be proud of me.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything.

  “My wife and my kids,” Robert said.

  Jesse thought for a while.

  “Let Officer Simpson know how I can reach you.”

  “You think you can help?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I was hopin’ you would. That would be so great. Thanks, Chief Stone.”

  “Jesse.”

  “Yeah.”

  When Lopresti left, Jesse asked Suitcase for more coffee. Then he told him to bring in the old lady.

  “My name is Agatha Miller,” she said, as she sat down.

  “Mrs. Miller,” Jesse said.

  “Miss Miller,” she said.

  “Okay,” Jesse said. “What can I do for you, Miss Miller?”

  “It’s about my boarder.”

  “Your boarder?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Donald Johnson.”

  “What about Donald Johnson,” Jesse said.

  “He’s strange,” she said.

  “In what way?”

  “He never goes out during the day. He only goes at night.”

  “At night?”

  “Yes. When he thinks I’m asleep, he goes out the back door.”

  Jesse leaned toward Miss Miller.

  “How long has he been boarding with you, Miss Miller?”

  “Nearly a month,” she said. “He told me he was here for vacation. He’s from Kansas.”

  “Would you be able to identify him from a photograph,” Jesse said.

  “Perhaps,” she said. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be, though.”

  Jesse asked Suitcase to bring in the photo of Rollo Nurse. He handed it to Miss Miller, who looked at it closely. First she looked at it with her heavy-duty glasses on, then with them off.

  “Is this man Donald Johnson,” Jesse said.

  “I think so,” she said. “Yes. I think so.”

  53

  As soon as Agatha Miller left the house, Rollo sensed that something was wrong. The voices were raised. They had become insistent.

  He packed his belongings and slipped out of the house.

  He left the neighborhood and quickly walked to the nearby park. Certain no one had noticed him, he disappeared into the brush and settled down to wait for dark.

  Some weeks earlier he had made a safe place for himself in the deep woods on the outskirts of town. He had dug out a small area in a bushy glen. He purchased some used camping gear, gathered a few supplies, and stowed them all in the clearing. Once darkness descended, he would leave the park and head there. He would hide out and wait for the appropriate time to make his final move on Jesse Stone.

  He throbbed with excitement. It had all gone so smoothly. The voices hadn’t led him astray. Soon he would swoop down and destroy Jesse Stone, just as Jesse Stone had destroyed him. In the end, he would still be alive. And Jesse Stone wouldn’t.

  Jesse followed Agatha Miller to her home. He was accompanied by Suitcase and Perkins.

  She ushered Jesse and Suitcase inside. Then she pointed Perkins to the back of the house. All three officers had their weapons drawn.

  Miss Miller showed Jesse and Suitcase to Rollo’s room, then she left the house at Jesse’s instruction.

  Jess
e took up a position alongside the door to Rollo’s room. Suitcase was behind him in the kitchen.

  “Rollo, this is Jesse Stone,” he said. “Open the door and come out with your hands above your head.”

  There was no response.

  Jesse repeated the instruction.

  Still no response.

  He tried the handle of the door. It was unlocked. He pushed the door open and dove inside. He hit the floor and rolled to a sitting position, his pistol in his hand.

  The room was empty.

  Jesse checked the bathroom. It, too, was empty. He called to both Suitcase and Perkins.

  They carefully searched the room, but Rollo had stripped it of his personal effects. All he left behind was the photo of himself that had been circulated around town, a copy of which he had placed on the night table.

  The three officers looked at one another.

  “What’s next,” Suitcase said.

  “Beats me,” Jesse said.

  Jesse called Gino from his cell phone.

  “Jesse Stone,” Gino said, when he picked up the call. “As we say in gangland, how may I help you?”

  “Gangland?”

  “A euphemism.”

  “Do you offer a retirement policy,” Jesse said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know, a policy that allows gangland members to hang them up, so to speak.”

  “I’m not certain I’m following you, Jesse Stone,” Gino said.

  “Let’s say there was someone who worked on the technical side of things, who wanted to take the opportunity of his benefactor’s recent demise to quit the business. Get out of the game.”

  “I’m listening,” Gino said.

  “Might there be unfortunate consequences as a result of such an action?”

  “How about we get to the point,” Gino said. “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Would you or any of your associates come after such a person, were he to voluntarily retire,” Jesse said.

  “Would he involve himself with a competing organization?”

  “No. He would be going legit.”

  “What’s your interest in the matter,” Gino said.

  “I was approached by this young man, who claims to have developed concerns both for his own safety and for the safety of his family.”

  “And you’re inquiring on his behalf?”

  “I am.”

  Gino was quiet.

  “I can’t foresee any potential health problems for your friend. So long as he doesn’t cross paths with any of the company’s interests.”

  “He won’t.”

  “How do you know he won’t?”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  “Trust you?”

  “A euphemism.”

  “Do I get to know your friend’s name?”

  “Robert Lopresti.”

  “I kind of figured,” Gino said.

  “I kind of figured you’d kind of figure,” Jesse said.

  “Please send my good wishes to Mr. Lopresti.”

  “I shall.”

  “And my altogether best wishes to you, Jesse Stone,” Gino said.

  “I kind of figured that, too,” Jesse said.

  54

  Although Jesse ordered a neighborhood dragnet, it turned up no sign of Rollo Nurse. He seemed to have vanished.

  No animal killings were reported. There were no more fires. Outwardly, Paradise regained its sense of normalcy. The police department, however, was on the highest level of alert.

  Jesse returned home, weary, prepared to spend the next several days restoring the contents of his house. When he parked at the entrance to the footbridge, he discovered the Striar Brothers delivery van. The driver and his assistant were just leaving.

  “The bed’s as good as new, Jesse,” the driver said. Jesse looked at him.

  “Mr. Striar made certain we got it on the truck today.”

  The two men waved to Jesse as they pulled away.

  Jesse crossed the footbridge and went inside. He was astonished by what he saw.

  The house had been completely restored. The broken, vandalized pieces were gone. New furniture had replaced the old.

  In the center of the refurbished living room stood Molly, with an enormous grin on her face.

  Jesse stared at her.

  “I’ll be expecting something extra in my paycheck,” she said.

  Jesse was quiet.

  “I don’t provide this kind of service to just any bozo, you know,” she said.

  Jesse still didn’t say anything.

  “Shame you can’t be silent more often,” Molly said.

  “This is incredible.”

  “You have a lot of friends in this town, Jesse.”

  “But . . .”

  “I wish I had videotaped what went on here today.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it,” he said.

  “Can I use big words?”

  Jesse didn’t say anything.

  “Rennie’s Cleaning was here first. They salvaged what they could and carted off the rest. The merchants tripped all over themselves in an effort to replace what had been destroyed. There were so many trucks, the drivers were forced to line up and wait their turn for delivery.”

  “How can I afford this,” he said.

  “You won’t have to,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The items were all deeply discounted. Tokens of how much people around here appreciate you, Jesse. Don’t ask me why.”

  “I can’t accept them. I can’t take gifts,” he said.

  “Board of selectmen paid for them.”

  “What?”

  “The board of selectmen went into emergency session, and after consulting with each merchant, they agreed to create a special fund to pay for it all. It was a unanimous vote, by the way.”

  Jesse didn’t say anything.

  He looked around. There was a new love seat on the porch, new leather armchairs in the living room. A new TV. New dishware and glasses were in the kitchen, along with a new table, new chairs, and a new refrigerator.

  Upstairs there was a new bed, new mattress, and new linens. The bedside tables and the bureau had been repaired.

  Asleep on the bed was Mildred Memory.

  “I’m gonna go home now,” Molly said.

  “What can I say,” Jesse said.

  “There aren’t words enough to thank me.”

  “I’m speechless,” Jesse said.

  “Take two aspirin and call me in the morning,” Molly said, as she went downstairs.

  Jesse followed.

  She gathered her things and headed for the newly repaired door. She turned to find Jesse standing next to her. He hugged her.

  “Arghhh,” she said. “Don’t go getting all gooey on me, Jesse.”

  She smiled to herself as she walked away from the house.

  55

  Following an uneventful night, one in which a patrol car was a constant presence at the entrance to the footbridge, Jesse made a stop at the Town Hall.

  He found Carter Hansen at his desk.

  “May I come in,” Jesse said.

  “I have no way of stopping you,” Hansen said.

  “Thank you, Carter,” Jesse said.

  “No thanks are necessary,” Hansen said.

  “I’m grateful nonetheless.”

  “People here like you, Jesse,” Hansen said. “The outpouring of generosity is testament to that.”

  “I’m speechless,” Jesse said.

  “Then I’ll understand when you don’t say good-bye,” Hansen said.

  Jesse smiled.

  Rather than leave the building, however, he stopped by Alexis Richardson’s office and stuck his head in.

  “I heard,” Alexis said, motioning for him to come in.

  “An unusual series of events,” Jesse said.

  “Try not to overreact,” Alexis said.

  “I had a thought, in case you’re interested,” Jesse said.


  “And you wish to share it?”

  “Only if you’re interested.”

  “Okay. I’m interested.”

  “Will there be any acoustic acts?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Acoustic acts? Softer music,” Jesse said.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s not polite to answer a question with another question,” Jesse said.

  “I didn’t realize you placed such stock in grammatical formalities.”

  “We’re drifting off point,” Jesse said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, there will be acoustic acts. Why?”

  “If you were to schedule those acts for the end of the concert, and as a result, greatly reduce the levels of the amplification system, you might just have a viable argument for a time extension.”

  “You mean if the speaker system was turned way down, we could play past eleven o’clock?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “How?”

  “Because the eleven o’clock curfew rule was put in place so that the neighborhood would be spared the discomfort of loudly amplified music.”

  “And if the music was minimally amplified, we could play it beyond the curfew.”

  “It would need to be closely monitored, of course. The noise levels in the adjoining neighborhoods would have to be negligible.”

  “And who would do the monitoring?”

  “The police department.”

  “And you thought of this?”

  “An epiphany.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m the police chief. I take everyone’s interests into consideration.”

  “Even mine?”

  “Even yours.”

  Alexis looked at him.

  “Thank you, Jesse,” she said.

  “All in a day’s work,” he said.

  56

  So then what happened,” Jesse said.

  “She actually said hello to me,” Lisa Barry said.

  They were strolling in Paradise Park, where Jesse had brought her after picking her up at school.

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “She acted kind of sheepish,” Lisa said. “She walked a ways with me and tried to be friendly.”

  “Julie’s a complicated young woman,” Jesse said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that although she’s a person of privilege, she still harbors a great deal of anger. She acts on instinct, without really understanding why.”