"Yes."
"Paradise Taxi is the only one in town," Simpson said.
"Go see them," Jesse said.
"Now?"
"Now."
When Suit was gone, Jesse swung his chair around and put his feet up on the sill of his back window and looked out at the fire trucks parked in front of the fire station. The phone rang. Jesse answered.
"Captain Healy," Molly said, "on line two."
"Bullets match," Healy said.
"The one they took out of Anthony?"
"Yep. And the ones that were trapped in your vest."
"We knew they would," Jesse said. "How about the car rental companies."
"The rental companies are an air ball," Healy said. "We checked in a fifty-mile radius, including Logan Airport. Nobody named Lincoln rented a car."
"How about the ones that deliver?"
"You thought of that, too," Healy said.
"We're a small department," Jesse said. "But we try hard."
"There's only two companies in the fifty-mile radius that deliver," Healy said. "Neither one of them has delivered to Paradise."
"You get any print matches from their condo?" Jesse said.
"Nope. They're not in the system that we can find. You know it's not really their condo?"
"They rent it?"
"Yep, from a guy working a two-year consulting project in Saudi Arabia."
"He'll be pleased to hear they took off," Jesse said.
"Unless they paid up front."
"Would you?" Jesse said.
"When I knew I was going to disappear? No, I don't think I would."
When he was off the phone Jesse swiveled his chair, put his feet back on the windowsill, and looked at the fire trucks again.
They had a false identity. They must have had it in place, standing by. That's why they had been so easy and open about their history in Cleveland. Maybe the Cleveland identity was assumed too. If you had time and some smarts you could prepare a full new one, driver's license, credit cards. Or five full new ones.
Standing on the running board of one of the fire trucks, a news photographer was taking pictures through the window. Jesse could imagine the caption. Paradise Police Chief Jesse Stone ponders his next move. Jesse kept sitting.
If they had a long-established alternate identification, then they must have had a long-established plan to kill people. Maybe Paradise wasn't the first. People like that didn't stop very often. If Paradise wasn't the first place they' d pursued their passion, it probably wouldn't be the last. They were unconnected. They didn't need to work.
Suitcase Simpson came into the office.
"There were eleven cab fares in the last week," Suit said, "out of Paradise. Seven of them went to the airport. Two went to the Northeast Mall. One went to New England Baptist Hospital. One went to Wonderland Dog Track."
"In the winter?" Jesse said.
"They run all year," Suit said.
"In this weather it would be easier just to mail them a check," Jesse said.
"You California guys are wimps," Suit said. "Hardy New Englanders like to be there when they lose it."
Jesse nodded.
"So they could have cabbed to the airport, picked up the rental, drove it to the mall."
"Or one of them could have, and the other one could have picked him up and driven him home in the Saab."
"They like to do things together," Jesse said.
"So you figure they both went for the rental car, and drove it to the mall in time for the shootout?"
"Yes."
"What if they rented it the day before," Suit said, "and parked it at the mall?"
"The car would have been parked there overnight. It might have attracted attention. And they'd have had to take a cab to the mall on the day of the shooting."
"Why wouldn't they have just driven the Saab over and left it when they swapped cars?"
"Don't know. Maybe they're so yuppied out that they couldn't bear to abandon the Saab."
"Hell, Jesse, they abandoned it anyway, along with their condo."
"Yeah, but it was safely parked in the garage. We are not dealing with entirely rational people here."
"You think they're crazy?"
"They've killed a bunch of people for no apparent reason."
"Good point," Suit said. "Either way we're looking for cab rides on the day of the shooting."
Jesse said, "Isn't there a subway station near the dog track?"
"Yeah. On the Blue Line. We used to take it into Boston when I was a kid. Buncha stops: Revere Beach, Orient Heights, the airport, Maverick Square in East Boston."
Jesse nodded.
"Okay," he said. "Check the cabs to the airport and to Wonderland on that day. Talk to the drivers. See if they can describe who they took, and where they picked them up. Get a list of names from all the rental companies at the airport, who they rented a car to that day."
"That's going to take some time," Suit said.
"It might," Jesse said. "Or you might score the first guy you ask."
"Not likely," Suit said.
"Just as likely as last," Jesse said.
"No," Suit said. "It never happens like that."
Jesse shrugged.
When Suit was gone, Jesse looked at the fire engines some more.
So, where would they go? They were free to go anywhere. They dearly had plenty of money. Tony's ocular scanner made that possible. If it were true... Maybe it was... If it were true, he'd hold a patent on it... If he held a patent on it, they'd have it at the U.S. Patent Office... which would have a website.
Jesse stood and opened his office door and yelled, "Molly."
When she came in, he said, "Are you as expert on the Internet as you are at everything else?"
"You sound like my husband," Molly said, "when he wants something."
"I need crime fighting help," Jesse said.
"You really don't want to do this yourself," Molly said. "Do you."
"I need you to find the U.S. Patent Office on the Web and see who has patented an optical scanning device."
"Everybody?"
The Lincolns appeared to be in their late forties.
"Everybody in, oh, say, the last twenty-five years."
"And while I'm doing that," Molly said, "you'll be in here oiling your baseball glove? Thinking of spring?"
"Hey," Jesse said, "I'm the chief of police."
Molly smiled and saluted.
"Of course you are," she said. "I'll see what I can find."
68
Jesse sat with Marcy Campbell in the Indigo Apple drinking coffee.
"Rita Fiore never called me back," he said.
"Maybe she's decided she won't waste any more time with you."
"Even though I'm a sexual athlete?"
"It sounds like Rita wants, excuse the phrase, a relationship" Marcy said.
"And she's thinks I'm not a good candidate?"
"You're not," Marcy said.
"I know."
"And she knows."
Jesse nodded.
"She wants a husband," Jesse said.
"Or the equivalent," Marcy said.
"I think she's had several of those already."
"Give her credit," Marcy said, "for fierce optimism."
"There are women who need a mate, I guess."
"People," Marcy said.
"People?"
"Men and women," Marcy said, "who feel incomplete unless they are mated."
"You're not one of them," Jesse said.
"No. I like sex and I like companionship, but not at the expense of my freedom or my self."
Jesse broke off a small piece of orange cranberry muffin and ate it. When he had swallowed, he said, "Maybe I'm one of them."
"Well," Marcy said. "You're an odd case. You're like me, except for Jenn. You like sex and companionship, too. But you won't commit to a new relationship just to have it. It's why we get along so well, neither of us requires commitment from the other."
"I suppose so," Marcy said. "But not for the same reasons. I am true to myself. You are true to Jenn."
"Which may be a way of being true to myself."
Marcy nodded.
"Or maybe obsessive."
"There's that," Jesse said.
Marcy sipped her coffee, holding the mug in both hands.
"But goddamnit," she said, "I'll give you credit, you are true to it, whatever the hell it is."
"Well, the thing is," Jesse said. "I love her."
"That simple," Marcy said.
Jesse nodded.
"Is there anything Jenn could do that would make you give her up?" Marcy said.
"She could tell me that she had no further interest in me," Jesse said. "If she told me that I'd move on."
"Which gives her control," Marcy said.
"I suppose."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"I don't care about stuff like that," Jesse said. "I love her. We're still connected. I'll play it out."
Marcy drank some coffee, and looked at Jesse for a while, and shook her head slowly. Jesse watched her.
"You have given over the crucial decision of your life to someone else," Marcy said. "And what's so odd is that it seems to be evidence of your autonomy."
"Autonomy," Jesse said.
"Don't be cute. You know what it means."
"Sort of."
"You feel strongly. You trust what you feel. And you proceed with it."
"True," Jesse said.
"It's the same in your work. You know what you know, and you do what you do and you plow along doing it."
"Like a mule," Jesse said.
"Or a jackass."
Jesse smiled.
"Same thing," he said. "More or less."
"If you ever work it out with Jenn, will we still be pals?"
"Sure," Jesse said.
"And fuck buddies?"
Jesse breathed slowly in and slowly out. He looked at Marcy for a moment. Then he smiled slightly and shook his head.
"Probably not," he said.
69
Suit and Molly sat at the long table in the conference room. They were drinking coffee from paper cups. A third cup, with the plastic lid still on it, sat at the head of the table. A box of Dunkin' Donuts was open on the table. Suit had his notebook open in front of him. Molly had a computer printout. Jesse came in, examined the box of donuts for a moment, took one, and sat at the head of the table and took the lid off the coffee. He took a bite of the donut.
"Cinnamon," he said.
"I know you like them," Molly said.
"What're the ones with no hole and chocolate frosting?"
"Boston cream," Molly said.
"Good God," Jesse said. "What have you got, Suit?"
"Okay," Suit said. He looked at his open notebook.
"First thing. Nobody took a cab to the mall on the day of the shooting. The two cab rides to the mall were two days earlier and are regulars. Two sisters who live together and go shopping every week."
"Okay," Jesse said. "Anyone picked up at the Lincolns' condo on the day of the shooting?"
"No. But the cab company has a log, you know for taxes and shit. There was a fare went from Paradise to Wonderland on the day of the shooting. I know the cabdriver. Mackie Ward, we played football in high school. Mackie says he picked up a couple who fit our description, down in front of the Chinese restaurant on Atlantic Ave., in the morning on the day of the shooting, and took them to Wonderland."
"They hail him?"
"No. They called for a cab and asked to be picked up there."
"Probably a cell phone," Jesse said. "Okay. So they take the cab to Wonderland. They take the train to Logan. Take the bus to one of the terminals. Catch the rental car bus in front of the terminal and go and pick up the rental car."
"Pretty elaborate," Molly said. "They knew if they killed a cop we'd look for them hard."
"Too elaborate. It's what amateurs do. They would have been much better off to drive the Saab to the airport, park it at the airport parking garage, pick up the rental car, and drive to the mall. You got anything else?"
"There were two other cab fares to the airport the day of the shooting," Suit said. "Both guys, alone."
"We'll check everything," Jesse said. "But it'll turn out to be Wonderland. How'd you make out, Moll?"
Molly finished chewing some donut, and sipped a little coffee.
"Piece of cake," she said. "There are thirteen hundred and twenty-three listings for ocular scanning devices on the Patent Office website."
"Names?" Jesse said.
"Yes, and cities."
"Where they live or where they did the invention?"
"Don't know."
"Anybody named Lincoln?"
"No."
"Anybody from Cleveland."
"Didn't check by city, yet."
"Okay."
Jesse looked at the donuts.
"Boston cream?" he said to Molly.
"You know, like Boston cream pie, except it's a donut."
"And Boston cream pie is a cake, isn't it?"
"Technically."
Jesse took a Boston cream donut from the box and put it on a napkin in front of him and looked at it.
"I bet it would be easy to get this all over you," he said.
"Easier than you can imagine," Molly said. "It may be that only women can eat them."
"The neater species," Jesse said.
"Exactly."
They were quiet while Jesse took a careful bite of the donut. He chewed and swallowed and nodded slowly.
"Good body," Jesse said, "with a hint of insouciance."
"Insouciance?" Suit said.
"I don't know what it means either," Jesse said. "Suit, you get hold of Healy. Tell him we need the names of everybody who rented a car the day of the shooting. He'll have a list. They've already told me there's no one named Lincoln."
"And I'll see how many ocular scanners are listed from Cleveland," Molly said. "It might narrow the cross-referencing."
"Don't bother," Jesse said. "We'll have to check every name against the list of car rentals, anyway. They might not have patented it from Cleveland, or in Cleveland, or whatever the hell one does to get Cleveland mentioned."
"And when we're done?" Suit said.
"If we get a match we might have their new identity."
70
Before he went to work, Jesse drove out to the Neck to see Candace and the dog. It was early March and still wintry with the ugly snow compacting where the plows had spilled it. The sky was overcast. As he drove across the causeway, the ocean, off to his right, was a sullen gray, with a few seabirds wheeling above it. When he got out of his car at the top of Candace's long curved driveway he could smell the approaching snow. It hadn't taken him long, when he'd come from Los Angeles, to learn the anticipatory smell of it. There were cars in the driveway when Jesse arrived, so he parked on the street and walked up. A sign hanging from the knob on the front door read OPEN HOUSE, BROKERS ONLY, PLEASE COME IN. Below the invitation was a small logo with a house in it, and the words "Pell Real Estate." Jesse went in. A woman sat on a folding chair at a card table in the hall. She had a pile of brochures on the table in front of her, and a guest book. Jesse could hear voices and movement elsewhere in the house. The sound had the kind of echoed quality that one gets in a house devoid of furniture or rugs.
"Hi," the woman said, "here for the open house?"
"I'm here to see Candace Pennington," Jesse said.
"You're not a broker?"
"No."
"I'm sorry, the Penningtons have moved."
"When?"
"Last week."
Robert B Parker - Stone 4 - Stone Cold Page 20
