Night and Day

by Parker, Robert B.

  71

  “EVERYBODY’S GOT a picture of Seth Ralston,” Jesse said to Suit.

  “They have. I got his license picture from the registry and personally gave each guy a blowup,” Suit said.

  “Okay,” Jesse said. “Moll?”

  “Paradise police cruiser parked on the street outside Betsy Ingersoll’s house,” Molly said. “Twenty-four-seven.”

  “Who?” Jesse said.

  “Buddy, Paul, and Steve,” Molly said. “Eight hours each. Four on, four off.”

  “They know it’s a head fake?” Jesse said.

  “No,” Molly said. “I hoped it would help them pay attention if I told them we had reason to think the Night Hawk might make his move on her.”

  “Agree,” Jesse said.

  “I talked to the Dorseys,” Jesse said. “They said we can sit in their upstairs guest bedroom and watch your house.”

  “Why them?” Molly said. “I’m a lot closer to the Hanleys.”

  “No kids,” Jesse said. “I don’t want everybody in the Paradise public school system to be talking about this.”

  “Good point,” Molly said. “I’ve not told my kids anything about it. Tell Arthur to be in civilian clothes riding the bus, or they’ll wonder. If he’s just another adult, they won’t even notice him.”

  “How ’bout your husband?” Jesse said.

  “I told him. He’ll keep it to himself.”

  “How’d he handle it,” Jesse said.

  “It’s probably good he’s not here,” Molly said. “I think he’d hide in the bushes and jump the first guy that approached the house.”

  “Don’t blame him,” Jesse said. “You fight?”

  “No,” Molly said. “Now and then I’m reminded of what kind of man he is. He said he knew I was a cop when he married me. He knew I could take care of myself. And he knew we couldn’t have the marriage we have unless I was free to do what I needed to do.”

  “He said that?” Suit said.

  Molly nodded.

  “He understood why you had to do this?” Suit said

  “There’s a reason I married him, you know,” Molly said.

  “I’ve talked to Peter Perkins,” Jesse said. “He doesn’t know quite what’s up, but he’s prepared to run the shop while you and me and Suit are on, ah, special assignment.”

  “That’s it?” Molly said.

  “Yep, even in the department, I don’t want more people to know than have to.”

  “You and Suit and me,” Molly said.

  “You’ll wear a gun, all the time, like we agreed.”

  “Under my clothes,” Molly said. “So if it gets to that, I can get it as I disrobe.”

  “Where you gonna wear it?” Suit said.

  “None of your business,” Molly said.

  “And the wire?” Jesse said.

  “Mike in my bra, transmitter pack in the small of my back. He won’t see it unless you’re late getting there.”

  “You’ll turn it on the minute he shows,” Jesse said.

  “I will.”

  “We need to time this right,” Jesse said. “I want him to make his move, so there’s no doubt that we got him.”

  “Hey, Moll,” Suit said. “What if we’re a little late getting there and when we bust in to rescue you, you’re standing around in your underwear?”

  “I thought of that,” Molly said. “So I’ve ordered up some new cute undies and charged it to the department.”

  Jesse smiled.

  “We won’t be late,” he said.

  “We won’t?” Suit said. “Damn!”

  72

  IT WAS a nice morning. The Night Hawk carefully screwed the stolen license plates onto his Crossfire. He had already put his plates on the little red Audi convertible that he’d stolen these plates from. If he was lucky, especially if it was a woman’s car, she wouldn’t even notice that her plates were wrong. The Audi looked like a chick car. There was a big smiley face hanging from the rearview mirror. When he finished putting on his new plates, he got in the car and looked at himself in the rearview mirror. He had a heavy beard. And he hadn’t shaved since he went underground. His beard was already sufficiently thick. He liked the beard, even the gray streaks. Distinguished. He put on some sunglasses. He felt the small weight of his derringer in the pocket of his black windbreaker. He liked the derringer. He’d never actually fired it, but he had dry-fired it enough. And it was romantic. It was the right gun for the Night Hawk.

  He put the car in gear and prowled out from behind his scruffy building and onto the highway. Time to reconnoiter. He drove carefully, keeping inside the speed limit, cruising easily in the right lane. He turned off into Paradise and passed within a block of his condo. That was over. He’d miss Hannah, maybe, a little. But he knew her secret far too well. He smiled to himself. And she knew his. It had probably been a mistake to marry her. But he’d believed the pretense. He’d thought her open and nonjudgmental surface was real. He’d thought maybe she could help him. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t helped him with any of it. He was probably not the marrying kind. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. He never thought ahead very far; mostly it was from one escapade to the next. Discovery to discovery. But now, for the first time in a while, he was ending something and moving on. To what? Jesse knew who he was. So did Hannah. Soon it would be common knowledge. He’d have to go a far distance and start over. He wouldn’t probably have much luck getting an academic job. Hard to get references. He had some cash. He’d been putting cash aside for years, in case. He didn’t know where yet. Anonymous city, small room, practice his craft of discovery. Maybe a little less effete in his next life. Maybe escalate a little. Stay unencumbered. Stay solitary.

  He drove along the western shoreline toward downtown. He passed the Ingersoll house. A Paradise police cruiser was parked outside. He smiled. You think I’m after her, Jesse. Not a bad guess. I would like to see that picture. But I’m not that stupid. He drove on into the old part of town. It was a nice town. It was the best place he’d lived since Mr. O had overtaken him. And soon he’d leave it forever. And go somewhere else. And do what he did. For the rest of his life. He turned up Molly Crane’s street. Nothing unusual. He drove past her house. Nice. Weathered shingles. Blue shutters. A basketball hoop on the garage. Domestic. Well, we’ll shake that up a little, won’t we? He turned in the cul-de-sac at the end of the street and drove back down. He went up the next street, where he could look through and see her backyard. Everything as it should be. He circled the neighborhood a few times. No cops. No cruisers. Nothing unusual. He looked at the dashboard clock. Ten-thirty. Why not? Why not now? He felt his chest tighten. He felt the feeling in his belly. He turned back around the block and onto her street. She’d have taken her shower by now. And dressed in clean clothes. Probably making beds now, and doing laundry and cleaning house. He parked at the corner of the street and got out. He didn’t need the ski mask this time. They knew who he was already. He began to walk up the street toward her house with the derringer in the right-hand pocket of his jacket, and his camera in the left. She was a policewoman. What if she had a gun? Probably not doing housework. But what if she could get it? Well, he had a gun. He felt the small jag of fear push past the other feelings. That was both good news and bad. It was the police part that was so enticing. The badge and gun were no match for the Night Hawk. The uniform stripped away. The secret revealed. He’d have his pictures. And he’d be gone. And next week he’d have new territory to explore. New secrets to reveal. In the next town. And the next. For the rest of his life. God! His heart was beating hard now, and his breathing was quick. He was afraid. But the desire smothered the fear. He had jumped off the cliff. There was no stopping himself now. He reached her front door. He turned the knob and it opened. Very quietly, he went in.

  73

  IN THE kitchen, Molly hung up the phone and turned on the wire. When she went into the living room she had to fake the surprise, because Jesse had just told her he was coming
in. But she didn’t have to fake the fear. That was real. He pointed the little silver derringer at her.

  “Who are you?” she said.

  “I think you know,” he said.

  “What do you want?” she said.

  “I think you know that, too,” he said.

  “You’re the Night Hawk,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Remove your clothes,” he said.

  His voice sounded to Molly as if it had a small quiver in it.

  “Remove my clothes?”

  “Now,” he said.

  “In front of you?”

  “I like to watch,” he said.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “I’ll shoot you,” he said.

  “Don’t do that,” Molly said.

  “Then start the striptease,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Molly said. “Here I go.”

  She began slowly to unbutton her shirt.

  Come on, Jesse, she thought. If Suit actually sees me in my underwear, I’ll shoot myself . . . or him.

  “What’s so funny,” the Night Hawk said.

  “There’s nothing funny,” Molly said.

  “You were smiling.”

  Molly unbuttoned the last button on her shirt.

  “I do that when I’m nervous,” Molly said.

  “Take off the shirt,” he said.

  Shirt isn’t bad, she thought. Line of duty and all that. But she had taped a gun to the inside of her right thigh. If she dropped her skirt, he’d see it, and then what? If she had to drop the skirt, she’d come up with the gun. And the hell with Jesse and Suit.

  She didn’t have to. Looking past Seth Ralston, she saw the knob turn silently on her front door. She began to beg loudly.

  “Please,” she said. “Please don’t make me do this. Please.”

  It covered any sound of entry, and, she could see, it pleased Ralston.

  “Sorry, honey,” Ralston said. “The clothes gotta come off. The quicker they do, the quicker it’s over.”

  “Freeze right there,” Jesse said.

  Ralston turned his head and saw Jesse, and Suitcase Simpson, each with a gun drawn and aimed, Jesse to his right rear, Suit to his left. He looked back at Molly. She had her gun out from under her skirt.

  “It’s a trap,” he said.

  “Yes, it is,” Molly said. “Put the gun down.”

  Ralston looked back at Jesse. There was a little earpiece in Jesse’s left ear.

  “You figured this out,” Ralston said.

  “Put the gun on the ground,” Jesse said.

  Ralston stared at Jesse and glanced at Suit and looked back at Molly. Nobody moved. Ralston lowered the gun.

  “The end of the Night Hawk,” he said.

  “Put the gun on the floor,” Jesse said.

  “Jail time.”

  “Put it down now,” Jesse said. “I won’t tell you again.”

  “We know naught of our coming hither or our going hence,” he said. “Readiness is all.”

  He raised the derringer suddenly and leveled it at Molly, and all three cops fired. Ralston went down in a heap and lay still on the floor. The three cops looked down at him. Jesse crouched and felt for a pulse and found none and stood.

  “Dead,” Jesse said.

  Silently, Suit holstered his weapon and picked up Molly’s shirt from where she had dropped it on the floor. He draped it over her shoulders.

  “I wonder which one of us killed him,” Molly said.

  “All of us,” Jesse said.

  “At his request, I think,” Molly said.

  74

  JESSE SAT in the warm evening with Sunny Randall on his small balcony. She had a martini. He had a scotch. It was a clear night. There were stars. And in the bright moonlight they could see the outline of Paradise Neck, with its lighted windows looking a bit starlike as well.

  “All three shots were fatal?” Sunny said.

  “According to the ME,” Jesse said.

  “Shooting team give you an okay?” Sunny said.

  “Yep. Healy led the team. Necessary lethal force.”

  “Good,” Sunny said. “How do you feel about it?”

  “Had to be done,” Jesse said.

  “I know,” Sunny said. “But how do you feel about it?”

  Jesse sipped his scotch. He smiled at Sunny.

  “Had to be done,” he said.

  “Oh,” Sunny said. “I see.”

  Jesse looked at her for a while.

  “You’ve done it,” Jesse said. “How did it make you feel?”

  “Had to be done,” Sunny said.

  “Exactly,” Jesse said.

  “And the others?” Sunny said.

  “Molly’s fine,” Jesse said. “I think she thought he deserved to be shot. Suit? I don’t know. It’s hard to figure sometimes what Suit is thinking.”

  “Probably makes it easier that you all killed him,” Sunny said.

  “Like a firing squad,” Jesse said.

  They sat quietly. No boats moved in the harbor. The gulls were quiet. There was no breeze, just the faintly cool ocean scent that drifted up to them. Jesse got up and made them each another drink. As he finished, the phone rang. He looked at the caller ID.

  “I have to take this,” Jesse said. “It won’t be long.”

  “I’ll close the French doors,” Sunny said.

  “No,” Jesse said. “It’s Jenn. I want you to listen.”

  Sunny looked at him but said nothing. Jesse picked up the phone.

  “Jesse,” Jenn said. “Oh, thank God you’re there.”

  “I’m here,” Jesse said.

  “Things are terrible,” Jenn said. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been fired. They are restructuring the whole show. I don’t know what to do.”

  “How about your producer friend,” Jesse said.

  “He’s the one that fired me,” Jenn said.

  “No business like show business,” Jesse said.

  “What am I going to do?” Jenn said.

  “Another job?” Jesse said. “Another producer? Whichever comes first.”

  “Don’t tease me, Jesse. I’m frantic. I need you. I need to come there and be with you.”

  “No,” Jesse said.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Jesse, please,” Jenn said. “I need this.”

  “No,” Jesse said. “No more.”

  “No more?”

  “It’s done, Jenn,” Jesse said. “We’re done. I won’t do this anymore.”

  “Jesse, do you hate me so much?”

  “I don’t hate you, Jenn. I just want you out of my life.”

  “Jesse,” Jenn said, “Jesse. I can’t. I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do.”

  “Your problem, Jenn.”

  “Jesse, please, what happened to make you turn on me like this?”

  Jesse took in some air. There was a long, complicated answer to that question, and Jesse thought he knew what it was. He looked at Sunny. Sunny was motionless, watching him.

  “Stuff happens,” he said, and gently hung up the phone.

  He picked up the drinks and walked to the balcony and handed Sunny hers. She took it and smiled at him.

  “You understand what went on there?” Jesse said.

  “I believe so,” Sunny said.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it bodes well,” Sunny said.

  She put one hand up, and gently Jesse high-fived her.

 

 

 
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