Robert B Parker - Stone 4 - Stone Cold

by Stone Cold(lit)

  Jesse said, "You are."

  "What the hell is going on?"

  "This your son?" Jesse said.

  "Yes. What do you think I'm doing here?"

  "We've arrested him for possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell, with resisting a lawful order, assault on a police officer, and maybe possession of obscene photographs."

  "Photographs?"

  "That's just a maybe," Jesse said.

  "Lemme see the photographs," Marino said.

  "Nope," Jesse said.

  "I got a right to confront my accuser," Marino said.

  Jesse took in some air and let it out.

  "Explain it to him, Abby."

  "Let me see if I can help with this, Mr. Marino."

  "The bitch sprayed me with Mace," Bo said.

  "Shut up," Marino said.

  Jesse smiled at Abby and didn't say anything.

  "You can release Bo to his father," Abby said.

  Jesse shook his head. "We'll hold him overnight and take him over to district court in the morning."

  "Jesse," Abby said. "He's seventeen. He has no previous record. At most, in this instance, he's guilty of a few minor lapses in decorum."

  "He's a tough kid," Marino said. "He stood up for himself like I always taught him. Nobody pushes me around, I told him. Don't let nobody push you around, I told him, don't take crap from nobody."

  Jesse nodded pleasantly. He was leaning back in his swivel chair, one foot up on the open bottom drawer of his desk, his hands resting motionless on the desktop.

  "You're looking at a fucking police brutality suit, I'm telling you that right now."

  Jesse picked up the phone and spoke to Arthur at the front desk.

  "Molly still here? Good. Send her in."

  In a moment Molly opened the door and came in.

  "This is the cop that roughed up your little boy, Mr. Marino."

  Marino looked at his son and shook his head disgustedly.

  "Jesus Christ," he said.

  "Mr. Marino," Abby Taylor said. "It might go better if you let me talk."

  "Broads," Marino said and shook his head again.

  "Thank you, Officer Crane," Jesse said.

  "You're welcome, Chief Stone," Molly said and turned and left the room.

  "Jesse," Abby said, "are you really going to keep this boy overnight?"

  "I am," Jesse said.

  He turned his chair a little and looked at Bo.

  "I want you to understand something," Jesse said. "You deny knowing any of the people in those pictures. We will track them down and find out if that is true. If you are lying to us, you'd be wise to say so now, with your attorney present."

  "I don't know them," Bo said.

  "Okay, we'll bring him over to district court first thing," Jesse said, "in case you want to be there."

  "Can't you do something about this?" Marino said to Abby.

  "Probably not," Abby said, looking at her watch. "Especially this late."

  "This is bullshit," Marino said. "I'm telling you, make it happen."

  "Theoretically that's possible," Abby said. "But in fact, at this hour, I'm not going to find a judge and argue my case and have him issue a writ, so, I'm sorry, but Bo will have to spend the night."

  "Dad?"

  "You little shit," Marino said to Jesse.

  "I'm not little," Jesse said. "I'm just not as fat as you."

  Marino gave him a long stare.

  "You didn't have that badge," Marino said.

  "Your kid said the same thing," Jesse said. "Now unless you want to spend the night here too, why don't you and your attorney go someplace and plan your brutality case."

  "She won't be my attorney long," Marino said. "I'm going to find somebody with a pair of balls."

  "By which you mean a man," Abby said.

  "Okay, since you asked, yeah. A man. I never seen a broad you could count on when it was on the line."

  Jesse smiled.

  "You're right," he said to Marino, "she won't be your attorney long."

  27

  Marino had left with Abby, and Bo was in the four-cell lockup in the back of the station. It was after six and getting dark when Molly came into Jesse's office with a pizza and a six-pack of Coors. She put the pizza on the desk. She separated out two cans of beer, set them on the desk next to the pizza, and put the rest in the little refrigerator where Jesse kept spring water.

  "I know you're married," Jesse said. "But maybe we could have an affair."

  "I'll put you on the list," Molly said. "You think we've got the little prick?"

  "Yes," Jesse said.

  He picked up a slice and took a bite.

  When he had swallowed, he said, "There's no real grounds for an obscenity charge. I don't think the possession with intent will stand up, but we should be able to make the case for assaulting a cop. We know he's lying about the pictures. And now, we can investigate the rape without anyone thinking that Candace squealed on them."

  "Won't that require Candace to testify?"

  "I don't know. If we flip one of the other kids, there might be a plea bargain and she'd never have to appear."

  "Why'd you keep the kid overnight?" Molly said.

  Jesse ate a bite of pizza and drank some beer.

  "Because I don't like him," Jesse said.

  "How was the father?"

  "The tree doesn't grow too far from the apple," Jesse said.

  The pizza was made with green peppers and mushrooms. Jesse's favorite. He wondered if it was a coincidence, or if Molly knew. He decided that Molly knew. Molly knew a lot.

  "You want me to go get Kevin Feeney?" Molly said.

  Jesse sipped some beer.

  "No," he said. "Not yet. We need to make it look like we didn't know who he was and it took us a couple days to find out."

  "I can't show those pictures around," Molly said.

  "Get the Feeney part blown up," Jesse said. "Eliminate Candace."

  "Okay."

  "Show them around for a couple days, principal, guidance, a few teachers and students. When we're sure the whole school knows we're looking for Feeney because we found the pictures, then we'll pick him up. Get Suit to help you. Tell him, now that he's got a legitimate reason to be there, that he can," Jesse smiled, "abandon his disguise."

  "And we don't mention Candace," Molly said.

  "No."

  "Ever?"

  "I told her I'd keep her out of it," Jesse said.

  "And you keep your word," Molly said.

  "When I can," Jesse said.

  "When Bo gets out," Molly said, "won't he go right to his buddies and warn them?"

  "Sure," Jesse said. "But they're high school kids living at home. What are they going to do? Flee the jurisdiction?"

  Molly nodded.

  "Might even work for us," Molly said. "The other two creeps know we're after them, it'll make them jumpy."

  "The jumpier they get," Jesse said, "the easier to flip."

  "And you think you can flip them?"

  "My guess?" Jesse said. "All three."

  28

  In a spitting snow, Jesse sat in his car with the motor running and the heater on, in the parking lot outside Channel 3. He looked at the digital clock on his dashboard. Jenn would have finished her six o'clock weather. He had the wipers on low interval and between swipes the sporadic snow collected thinly on his windshield. At 6:40 Jenn came out wearing a fake fur jacket and a cowboy hat. She was with a man Jesse didn't recognize. Jesse sat for a moment listening to his own breathing, feeling his interior self dwindle and intensify. Jenn looked up at the man and laughed and bumped her head against his shoulder. Jesse turned off the motor and got out of the car. He was aware of the gun on his hip, under his jacket. Jenn saw him.

  "Jesse?" she said.

  "You didn't return my calls," Jesse said. "I thought I'd catch you here."

  Jenn looked at him silently for what seemed to Jesse a long time, then she said, "Jesse, this is Bob
Mikkleson, our station manager."

  Bob was tall and healthy-looking, with silver hair combed back carefully, and lovingly sprayed. He started to put his hand out, realized Jesse wasn't going to shake hands, and put his hand back at his side.

  "I'm sorry," Jenn said, "but I'm up to here. You're on the list, I would have called you tomorrow."

  Jesse nodded and moved slightly closer to Bob. He didn't know why, and he hadn't planned to. There seemed to be a force outside himself. Jenn was single; she had every right to be with Bob. Bob wasn't doing anything wrong. Jesse moved a little more toward him, as if compelled by gravity. Bob was frowning.

  "What was it you called about, Jesse?" Jenn said.

  "Just to talk," Jesse said.

  "Well," Jenn said. "Let me call you tomorrow. Bob and I have a dinner reservation."

  "Sure," Jesse said.

  He was next to Bob now. What if I shot him? The possibility made his spirit expand. But, it would mean the end of whatever was left of Jesse and Jenn. Even if he got away with it, she could never get past it. He could feel himself contract again. The muscles in his neck and shoulders bunched. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a long drag of winter air.

  Bob said, "You're the ex-husband."

  Jesse nodded.

  "Are you all right?" Jenn said to him.

  Jesse nodded again.

  "You're some sort of police chief," Bob said. "Somewhere on the North Shore."

  Jesse realized that he was so close to Bob now that their sleeves touched. He nodded.

  "Well," Bob said. "It's been good talking to you, but we're already late for our reservation at 9 Park, and you know how hard they are to get."

  Jesse neither moved nor spoke. He could feel Jenn watching him.

  "Jesse," she said.

  He didn't answer.

  "Jesse," Jenn said again. "We've done a lot of work since I came here from Los Angeles."

  Jesse's shoulders moved, as if he were trying to loosen them.

  "Don't ruin it," Jenn said.

  Bob was two or three inches taller than Jesse. His skin had the smooth blue tone of a man who shaved twice a day. As close as he was, Jesse could break Bob's nose with the first punch.

  "I'll call you tomorrow," Jenn said.

  Bob nodded at Jesse, and the two of them walked toward Bob's car. Jesse watched them until they drove away. Then he walked slowly to his own car and opened the door and got in. He sat in his car with the door open and one foot still outside, and put his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.

  29

  She was driving the Saab through the narrow downtown of Paradise. He sat beside her in the front seat with a Canon digital camera, which was small enough to sit comfortably in the palm of his hand.

  "Her," she said.

  He photographed a copper-haired woman pushing a stroller.

  "We doing a woman next?" he said.

  "Even it up," she said. "We've two men and a woman."

  He sang, "A boy for you and a girl for me."

  She joined him.

  "Can't you see how happy we will be."

  They both laughed.

  "How about that good-looking black woman?" he said.

  "Certainly," she said. "We're not racists."

  Again they laughed together. He snapped a picture of the black woman.

  "Don't see many black people in Paradise," he said.

  She giggled.

  "If we decide on her, you'll see one less," she said.

  He nodded, his eyes scanning the sidewalks.

  "I want this one to be a knockout," he said.

  "Your choice," she said.

  He photographed a tall woman in a lavender warm-up suit.

  "This is fun," he said.

  She turned the car right onto a street leading to the waterfront.

  "I suppose it shouldn't be fun," she said.

  "You mean other people would think it was awful?"

  "Yes."

  He put the camera on his lap and leaned back against the seat.

  "When I was in college," he said, "we had to read something in English class by some old-time guy called the Venerable Bede. I don't remember it much, but I always remember one scene. There's this big banquet hall and it's brightly lit and there's a big warm fire. Outside it's cold and dark. But inside everybody's eating and drinking and having a hell of a time. A sparrow flies into one end of the hall, out of the cold darkness, and flies through the bright warm hall and out the other end into the cold darkness again."

  She glanced at him as she drove. He loved to pontificate.

  "So?" she said.

  "So human life is like the flight of the sparrow. Or maybe it was a swallow. I can't remember, but the point's the same."

  She pulled into the little parking lot by the town landing and parked in front of the restaurant.

  "We're only here for a little while," she said, "and we have the right to make the most of it."

  "Some people collect postage stamps," he said. "We like to kill people."

  "Is it really the same?" she said.

  "After we've done it, and we're making love, and the sex is like nothing else either one of us has ever known... the feeling... wouldn't you kill for that?"

  She breathed in deeply for a moment and reached over and put her hand on the inside of his thigh.

  "Yes," she said.

  "Me too," he said.

  They sat silently for a while watching the people. A dark-haired woman in a tailored suit came out of the Gray Gull. She was carrying a briefcase and talking on a cell phone. He raised his camera and aimed.

  "Her," he said.

  30

  "I don't know why I went there," Jesse said.

  "Why did you think you were going?" Dix said.

  "She wasn't returning my calls. I thought maybe I could catch her coming out and we could have a drink or something."

  "Catch her," Dix said.

  "You think I was trying to catch her with a guy?"

  "Do you?"

  Dix was wearing a black turtleneck sweater today. And gray slacks. His bald head and clean-shaven face were shiny clean. His thick hands were motionless on the arms of his swivel chair, which he had tipped back while he listened to Jesse. His fingernails looked manicured.

  "I want to kill anyone she's with," Jesse said. "I feel like I'll explode if I don't."

  "Because...?" Dix said.

  "Because I love her."

  "But," Dix said, "you don't kill anyone."

  Jess shrugged and smiled a little.

  "Because I love her," Jesse said.

  "You win, you lose," Dix said. "You lose, you lose."

  "Exactly. Ain't love grand."

  "It might not be love," Dix said.

  Jesse straightened a little in his chair.

  "Do shrinks believe in love?" Jesse said.

  "I do," Dix said, "loosely speaking."

  "I love her," he said. "If I know nothing else, I know that."

  Dix nodded.

  "You accept that?" Jesse said.

  "Sure," Dix said. "But almost everything human operates at more than one level."

  "You think there's something else at work?"

  "Don't you?"

  Jesse sat for a moment, looking at the palm of his right hand, flexing the fingers.

  "I imagine her with them," Jesse said. "Having sex."

  "She ever tell you about it?" Dix said.

  "God no," Jesse said.

  "So you don't know what she's doing in fact."

  "I can imagine," Jesse said.

  His voice was hoarse. He cleared it. Dix was entirely still in his chair. Jesse saw that he was wearing black loafers with tassels, and no socks.