“Too shallow. Too rocky. There’s a lot of rock jumble slid down off the stone face over the last million years.”
“So how do we get to you?”
“Wade out. It’s only about five feet deep at the most. I hold the boat steady out past the rocks. You walk out to me.”
Macklin nodded.
“We’ll work something out,” he said. “Maybe we can find a small rowboat and stash it.”
“Either way,” Costa said, “weather’s got to be good.”
“We’ll try to pick a nice day,” Macklin said.
Costa heard the sarcasm. He paid no attention. He knew what he knew. Bad weather, you couldn’t get through those rocks. Couldn’t get anything but a small boat through there in any kind of weather. And he wasn’t tearing his boat up on those rocks for Macklin or a million bucks or anything else. They didn’t know about the ocean. He did.
“Anybody needs to get onto the island, you take my car,” Macklin said. “The real estate broad thinks you’re my contractors. She gave me a visitor’s pass because I’m such a hot prospect. You put the pass on the dashboard and drive up, and the guard waves you through.”
“I’ll need a look at the underside of the bridge,” Fran said.
“Freddie will get you as close as he can, and you can use binoculars,” Macklin said. “JD, you go with them. I think all the wire from the island runs under the bridge.”
“What makes you think that?” JD said.
“Mrs. Campbell told me.”
“Maybe she’s just saying it. Sell you some property.”
“Well, where else would they run it?”
“On the floor of the harbor.”
“When they have a nice bridge?”
“They might have wanted power out there while they were building the bridge.”
“Okay,” Macklin said. “We won’t guess. Find out about it.”
“Yessir, cap’n,” JD said.
Macklin gestured his glass at Faye, and she made him a new drink and put it at his elbow. She put her hand on his shoulder as she set the drink down. Macklin patted her hand absently.
“Weapons?” Crow said.
Macklin nodded. “Shotguns. Rifles. Hundred rounds each.”
Crow raised his eyebrows.
“Better too much than too little,” Macklin said. “Everybody here got a piece of his own?”
“I got a Winchester on the boat,” Costa said.
“Handgun,” JD said.
Fran nodded.
“Crow, make sure each of us has rifle, shotgun, and handgun,” Macklin said. “Fran, you’ll take care of your own explosives?”
“Soon as I figure out what I need,” Fran said.
Faye brought in a platter of sandwiches, mixed some more drinks, leaned her hips against the sideboard, and watched Jimmy when she wasn’t busy. He’s happy, she thought. He loves this, getting the crew together, planning the action, attending to all the details, smoothing out any friction. He should have been some kind of army officer. She watched him lean back in his chair sipping his drink, a triangular sandwich half in his other hand. He loves these guys, Faye thought. It bothered her a little that he’d gone to see the police chief. Jimmy was a thrill seeker. It was why he did what he did. He needed to get too close to the edge. The greater the risk, the greater the excitement. Some times he risked too much. She hadn’t liked Jimmy’s reaction to the chief. The chief was more than Jimmy had expected.
“How about a bazooka,” Macklin was saying.
“A bazooka?” Crow said.
“Rocket launcher, whatever, so if there’s a police boat we can blow them out of the water.”
“I’ll put it on the list,” Crow said.
Faye couldn’t tell if Crow was smiling or not.
Chapter 35
Jesse met Abby Taylor at the Gray Gull. Abby had a martini. Jesse ordered beer. Abby noticed but said nothing. Jesse smiled and raised his glass toward Abby.
“Old times,” he said.
Abby tapped her glass against his.
“Good times,” she said.
“Yes.”
The bar was crowded. The outside deck was closed for the season, and most of the tables inside were full.
“But I didn’t ask you to meet me just for that,” Abby said.
Jesse nodded.
“Kay Hopkins is going to try and have you removed as chief,” Abby said. “The two gay guys whose house was burned . . .”
“Canton and Brown,” Jesse said.
“Yes. They’re proceeding with their civil suit, and I imagine the Hopkins will have to settle, because they don’t want to get into court and have your tapes played.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Jesse said.
“But she’s not willing to let it go. ”
“Mrs. Hopkins.”
“Yes. She feels you have misused her darling boys, and then misused your office to suggest a civil suit. She’s going to get you.”
“If she can,” Jesse said.
“She’s already talked with Morris Comden. You know Morris.”
“Morris is not like a rock,” Jesse said.
Doc came down the bar. “Another round?” he said.
Abby nodded. Jesse shrugged. He still had half a beer in front of him. He wasn’t crazy about beer. Which was why he was drinking it.
“Talk to Nick Petrocelli about this,” Abby said. “Don’t take her lightly. She is vicious and driven. She needs to get her own way. And she’s not used to being thwarted.”
“Beware a woman scorned,” Jesse said.
Doc served the second round. Abby had a good pull on her second martini.
“Like me,” she said.
Whoops, Jesse thought.
“I thought you scorned me,” he said.
“I suppose I did.”
“You’re not the first,” Jesse said.
Abby took one of the olives out of her martini and ate it. “I gather that Jenn is still in town.”
“Yes.”
“How are you and she doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Abby said.
“The truth,” Jesse said. “I don’t quite know what our relationship is or how it’s going to turn out.”
“How would you like it to turn out?”
Jesse drank some of his first beer.
“She says she’s not the same person.”
Abby took another drink. “So?”
“If that’s true . . .”
“You want to be with her,” Abby said.
“If I can be.”
Abby nodded her head slowly and kept nodding it. “What’s she say?” Abby asked.
“She says we’re two single adults, and we can date each other and other people and see where it all leads.”
“Does she want to be with you?”
“She does and she doesn’t,” Jesse said.
“What the hell does that mean?” Abby said.
She finished her martini and nodded at Doc.
“It means she wants to be with me, and she doesn’t want to be with me,” Jesse said. “I think the shrinks call it ambivalence.”
“And you’re supposed to wait around until she decides?”
“If I want to,” Jesse said.
“And you want to?”
Doc brought Abby a fresh drink. He looked at Jesse, who shook his head. Doc went away.
“If I can be with Jenn, I will be,” Jesse said carefully.
Abby was silent, slowly twirling the stem of her martini glass on the bar. Jesse was quiet, waiting. Abby’s eyes began to tear. Jesse took in some air.
�
��And what about us?”
“I thought we were history,” Jesse said.
“I thought we were too,” Abby said. “I was wrong. I was frightened by what happened last year. I was frightened by how hard you were. I didn’t understand.”
“And now you don’t mind? Or now there’s nothing frightening going on?”
“Now I understand.”
Jesse nodded. Abby was starting to slur her S’s.
“There’s no reason, in the short run at least, why we can’t see each other,” Jesse said. “You seeing anyone else?”
“I’ve been dating Paul Graveline. ”
“You like him?”
“Very much.”
He remembered how she’d looked naked, how she’d been in bed. He liked the memory. Abby stopped twirling her glass and looked up at him. The tears had spilled from her eyes and were now running down her face.
“But?” Jesse said.
“But . . . I love you, Jesse.”
“That’s not a good idea, Abby.”
“I know.”
“I’ve never pretended,” Jesse said. “I’ve always told you the truth.”
“I know. You said, ‘Abby, don’t put all your eggs in my basket.’”
Jesse nodded. He drank some more beer. He wanted more lift than the beer gave him. Seated alone at a table for two across the room was Harry Smith’s wife. Jesse remembered her from the Race Regatta Cotillion where he’d seen her and Harry with Marcy Campbell. She had a nearly full glass of red wine in front of her.
“But I did,” Abby said.
Jesse didn’t have anything to say.
Mrs. Smith across the room was still at her table alone, her wine glass was still more full than empty. She seemed comfortable drinking alone at the table.
“Even if you were back with Jenn, somehow . . .” Abby said. She paused to finish her martini. “Even if you were, we could still maybe have our little relationship on the side.”
“Maybe not,” Jesse said. “It’s too complicated for me to say yes and no to anything, but maybe we couldn’t.”
Abby with the tears running down her face, gestured at Doc for another drink. Doc looked at Jesse. Jesse nodded. Shutting her off now would not be smart, he thought. Doc brought her the drink and gave Jesse another look. Jesse shrugged. Abby drank half her drink and slid off the bar stool and put her arms around Jesse’s neck and kissed him hard. He should stop this now, he thought. But he didn’t. Abby finished kissing him and leaned away, her arms still around his neck.
“Tell me you didn’t like that,” she said.
“I won’t tell you that.”
“Tell me you don’t want me to come home with you.”
He should stop this now. “I won’t tell you that either,” he said.
She pressed in close against him again and kissed him with her mouth open. Jesse always felt he was on display in the town where everyone knew he was the chief of police. Just as he would never allow himself to get drunk in public, he didn’t want to be seen necking in public. He was uncomfortable and thick and intense. This must be ambivalence, he thought.
With her lips brushing his and her pelvis pressed against him, Abby whispered, “Take me home, Jesse.”
“Yes,” he said.
They left the Gray Gull with Abby clinging to him. He wasn’t sure if it was desire or dizziness. Probably both, he decided.
When they were gone, Mrs. Smith got up and walked to the bar and spoke to Doc.
“The young woman with Chief Stone,” Faye said. “She looks so familiar to me. What is her name?”
“Abby Taylor, ma’am.”
“She live here in town?”
“Yes ma’am, used to be town counsel.”
“I’m sure we’ve met. You wouldn’t know if she went to Wellesley College, would you?”
“No, ma’am.”
Faye smiled at him. “Well, no matter,” she said. “Next time I see her, I’ll ask her.”
Chapter 36
Macklin sat drinking coffee with Crow in Macklin’s car parked outside the Stiles Island branch of the Paradise Savings Bank. An armored car pulled away from the bank.
“Lot of cash in that bank,” Macklin said.
“You think?”
“Second armored car delivery of the day,” Macklin said. “They are not bringing office supplies.”
Crow nodded. He was slouched in the front seat, one foot propped on the dashboard. Even relaxed, Crow carried with him an aura of force barely contained and waiting to explode.
“Another thing to notice,” Macklin said, “you going to be a successful bank robber, is how many ATM’s they got. ”
“They got four,” Crow said.
“Nice eye, kemo sabe. And if you look up and down the street here, what do you see?”
“Lotta WASP pussy,” Crow said.
“Besides that,” Macklin said.
“Places for the WASP pussy to shop.”
“Bank robber’s tip number two. Find a bank near a lotta retail shops.”
“Because?”
“Lotta cash required.”
“Ah,” Crow said. “How about safe deposit boxes?”
“They got ’em,” Macklin said. “I checked.”
“Lotta trouble getting into safe deposit vaults.”
“Is if you got to bust them. Not so hard if the owners open them up for you.”
“Don’t you need a bank key too?”
“Sure.”
Crow sipped some coffee. He watched a woman in spandex tights get out of a silver Volvo station wagon and walk away from them toward a food shop called the Island Gourmet.
“Jimmy,” Crow said thoughtfully, “just how much time you plan spending during the commission of this crime?”
“Coupla days ought to do it.”
“And you don’t think the cops or nobody might, ah, intervene?”
“Not if they don’t know nothing about it,” Macklin said.
“And you think you can keep them from knowing?”
“I do.”
“For how long?”
“Coupla days, maybe.”
“And if they find out sooner?”
“They still got to get out here and stop us.”
“You going to blow the bridge?”
“If I need to.”
“No way we’re going to make this omelette, Jimmy, without breaking a few eggs,” Crow said.
“You care?”
“No.”
“What the hell do you care about, Crow?”
“Nothing you’d understand, Jimmy.”
“Apache stuff?”
Crow shrugged and sipped some more coffee.
“Sure,” he said.
“Well we get-um much wampum,” Macklin said. “Apaches care about wampum, don’t they?”
“Apaches don’t know nothing about wampum, that’s East Coast Indian shit.”
“So what do Apaches care about?”
“Cash,” Crow said.
Chapter 37
“That registration you wanted me to check?” Suitcase said as he came into the office. “Car’s registered to Harry Smith, okay. Address on Pier Seven in Charlestown.” He handed Jesse the pink message sheet. Jesse glanced at it. The address was the rehabbed Charlestown Navy Yard. He folded the pink slip and put it in his shirt pocket.
“Heard you was with Abby at the Gull last night,” Suitcase Simpson said. “Heard she had a few.”
“Observant,” Jesse said.
“Heard she was all over you.”
“I think one is connected to the other,” Jesse said.
“She spend the night at your place?”
>
“Suit, maybe you should start dating more,” Jesse said.
“Me and the other guys chipped in,” Suitcase said, “bought you these.”
He took a large bottle of multivitamins from the side pocket of his uniform jacket, handed them to Jesse, and nearly collapsed with laughter.
“Goddamn, Jesse—talk about a cock jockey,” Suitcase struggled to speak through the laughter. “Your ex-wife . . . Marcy Campbell . . . Abby . . . I’m going to start walking . . . my mother . . . to church.”
He staggered back against the wall of Jesse’s office, now laughing too hard to stand upright. His eyes were wet; his red cheeks were crimson. Jesse smiled and waited for him to get control. Suitcase was only twenty-five. He was a big twenty-five but not a very old one. Molly Crane knocked on the door as she opened it.
“Morris Comden’s here, Jesse,” she said. “Wants to see you alone.”
“Probably looking for sex tips,” Suitcase gasped.
“Take Suit out, and send Morris in,” Jesse said.
“You give him the vitamins?” Molly said to Suitcase.
Suitcase nodded, and Molly giggled and left the door open as she and Suitcase went out. In a moment Morris Comden came in, glancing back over his shoulder at the two cops who’d just left.
“Must be a hell of a joke, Jess,” Comden said.
“Doesn’t take a hell of a joke to get those two hysterical,” Jesse said. “What’s up, Morris?”
Comden looked around the office and glanced back at the half-open door.
“Mind if I close the door, Jess?”
“No.”
Comden got up and closed the door and came back and sat down. He hated how Jesse always just answered your question and nothing more.
“We got us a problem, Jess.”
Jesse waited.
“You know I’ve always been in your corner,” Comden said.
Jesse waited.
“You remember how I stood with you during the trouble last year,” Comden said.
“No, Morris, I don’t.”
Comden didn’t know what to say to that, so he went on as if Jesse hadn’t spoken.
“But this is a tough one,” Comden said. His voice was a little hoarse, as if he needed to clear his throat. “Kay Hopkins.”
Jesse leaned back in his chair with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair and his fingers laced across his flat stomach.
Robert B Parker: The Jesse Stone Novels 1-5 Page 37
