Split Image

by Robert B. Parker

  "Yes," Dix said. "That would be frustrating."

  "And she was probably that way with other men?"

  "Affectionate and attentive?" Dix said.

  "Yeah."

  "And you know this how?" Dix said.

  "Figures," Jesse said. "She wanted something."

  "How about these wives?" Dix said.

  "They seem genuine to me," Jesse said.

  "Perhaps you want them to be genuine," Dix said.

  "Why?" Jesse said. "Why would I care?"

  Dix looked at his watch. It was his signal that the fifty minutes were up.

  "Don't know," Dix said. "Think about it. We can talk some more on Thursday."

  "These two frogs get to marry the princesses," Jesse said. "I get the whore."

  "We'll talk Thursday," Dix said.

  18

  HER SISTER let them into Roberta Moynihan's house and got them seated in the living room. When Roberta came in they all stood.

  "I'm very sorry about your husband, Mrs. Moynihan," Jesse said. "We all are."

  "Robbie," she said. "Please call me Robbie."

  Jesse nodded. Robbie's face was pale and tight. But her eyes were dry. She seemed in control of herself. Rebecca Galen stood to the side, near her sister.

  Jesse said, "This is Captain Healy, Robbie, the homicide commander for the state police. And the gentleman with him is Sergeant Liquori, of the state organized-crime unit."

  Healy and Liquori nodded gravely.

  "This is Roberta Moynihan," Jesse said.

  Robbie smiled faintly and gestured toward the chairs they'd risen from.

  "Please," she said, "sit down."

  They sat.

  "I know this will not be easy, Mrs. Moynihan," Healy said.

  "Robbie," she said.

  "But please put up with us as long as you can."

  "I'll stay as long as you need, Captain," Robbie said. "It's the only way left for me to help my husband."

  Her voice shook at the end of the sentence. But she breathed in, and when she spoke her voice was steady.

  "What do you want to know?"

  "Are you suspicious of anyone in your husband's death," Healy said.

  "Francis had enemies," she said. "You know the life he used to lead."

  Jesse saw Liquori's face twitch a little when Robbie said "used to lead," but he stayed quiet.

  "Anyone specific?" Healy said.

  "No, and nothing recent."

  "No threats. No increased security?"

  "No."

  "Your husband carry a gun?"

  "Sometimes," she said. "As I said, I know there were enemies."

  "He wasn't wearing one when he was found," Healy said.

  Robbie nodded.

  "When's the last time you saw your husband?" Healy said.

  "The night he was killed," Robbie said. "We had dinner and sat on the deck afterwards, as we usually do in good weather. . . ."

  She paused and breathed and went on.

  "And he said he was going for a walk. I offered to go with him, and he thanked me but said he needed to think a little and he'd do that better alone. . . . He said when we were together it was hard to think of anything else."

  Healy nodded and looked at Liquori.

  "If I may," Liquori said, "I'd like to read you a list of names, see if you recognize any."

  "Of course," Robbie said.

  Liquori read about ten names. Robbie listened attentively. When he was through she sat silently for a moment, then shook her head.

  "I don't know any of them," she said. "I suppose they are acquaintances of my husband's?"

  Liquori did not respond. He was a lean, bald guy with a big nose.

  "Has your husband traveled lately?" he said.

  "No," she said. "Francis hasn't gone anywhere at all for, like, a year."

  Liquori nodded and looked at Healy. And so it went for maybe an hour while Jesse listened.

  Finally Rebecca Galen stepped forward.

  "I think we've talked long enough for today," she said. "I know my sister will be willing to talk again. But the doctor has prescribed a sedative, and I think she should take it."

  "One other question," Jesse said. "Ray Mulligan? Where was he when Knocko was murdered?"

  Robbie shook her head.

  Rebecca said, "Knocko fired him the week before."

  "They were old friends," Jesse said. "School days. Why'd he fire him?"

  Robbie shook her head again.

  "They had a disagreement," Rebecca said. "Neither of us knows about what. Our husbands' world was pretty much theirs."

  "So, who does security now?" Jesse said.

  "Bob," Rebecca said.

  "Your Bob," Jesse said.

  "Yes, he sort of looks after both estates."

  "You know where Ray Mulligan is now?" Jesse said.

  They both shook their heads.

  "Robbie really needs to rest," Rebecca said.

  "Sure," Jesse said, and stood.

  Healy and Liquori stood as well. They said good-bye, and Rebecca showed them out.

  As they went down the front walk to their car, Liquori said, "Never thought I'd see someone upset 'cause Knocko Moynihan died."

  "Especially somebody like her," Jesse said.

  "Especially," Liquori said.

  19

  THEY SAT in Healy's car, in the town beach parking lot. Liquori did most of the talking.

  "I already gave Captain Healy the stuff I got on Reggie," Liquori said. "I assume he passed it on to you."

  "He did," Jesse said.

  "You got time to listen to background?" Liquori said.

  Healy nodded. Jesse said, "Yes."

  "Okay," Liquori said. "Him and Knocko had their problems."

  "After Broz retired?" Healy said.

  "Yeah," Liquori said.

  He looked at Jesse.

  "You wasn't around here twenty years ago."

  "Nope."

  "Guy named Broz ran pretty much the whole metropolitan area," Liquori said. "South almost to Providence, west to Springfield, north . . . hell, all the way to Montreal, for all I know."

  "And when he quit there was a fight for territory," Jesse said.

  "His kid wasn't up to it," Liquori said. "And there was some shouting and shooting and deal making, and we ended up with Gino Fish getting downtown, Tony Marcus got all the schwartzas, Knocko got the south, Reggie got north."

  "When did this all happen?" Jesse said.

  "Twenty years, give or take," Liquori said.

  "'Bout the time Reggie married his wife," Jesse said.

  "When did Knocko get married?" Healy said.

  Liquori shrugged.

  "I can check," he said. "Mighta had something to do with the deal they made?"

  "Mighta," Jesse said.

  "Like some of those old-time marriages," Liquori said. "You know? Like the king's sister marries the other king's brother or something."

  "Maybe," Jesse said.

  "What do we know about the wives?" Healy said.

  "Nothing much," Liquori said. "They have never showed up on our screen, you know? No arrests, no accessory after charges. Nothing. Far as we know, they had nice marriages without any big troubles."

  "At least no public ones," Healy said.

  "None that we got," Liquori said.

  "Any thoughts, Jesse?" Healy said.

  "But far as I can tell, they were both happily married," Jesse said.

  "Couple of fucking hooligans," Liquori said. "Like Knocko and Reggie?"

  "Doesn't make sense to me, either," Jesse said. "Course, that may be because of the kind of marriage I had."

  "Tell me about it," Liquori said.

  "I been married forty-one years," Healy said. "Sometimes it works."

  "And sometimes it don't," Liquori said.

  Jesse didn't say anything. No one else did, either. The tide was out, and the smooth, wet expanse of beach that had been exposed by its going out ended in a line of seaweed a
nd shells that marked its highest incursion. The sunlight was quick and right along the tops of the waves.

  "Maybe we need to know more about these women," Healy said.

  "I'll go through what I got," Liquori said.

  "I can probably scrape up someone to look into them, too," Healy said.

  Jesse nodded.

  "No harm to it," he said. "Knocko actually retired?"

  "No," Liquori said.

  "Like Reggie is, partly."

  "Healy told me Reggie still gets a skim on everything north," Jesse said.

  "But that's about it, mostly passive. Not Knocko," Liquori said. "Knocko was still a player."

  "Need the money?" Jesse said.

  Healy shook his head. So did Liquori.

  "Don't think so," Liquori said.

  "Liked the power," Healy said.

  "And the action," Liquori said.

  "Don't we all," Jesse said. "You got any information on Ray Mulligan?"

  "Probably," Liquori said.

  "Lemme know what you got," Jesse said. "I'd like to talk with him."

  "Because the firing was so convenient?" Liquori said.

  "Yes," Jesse said.

  Healy smiled.

  "Especially for the shooter," he said.

  20

  JESSE WAS in his office, reading the file that Liquori had sent to him on Rebecca Galen and Roberta Moynihan. They were forty-one. They had gone to Paulus College. They had married their respective husbands in the same year, Rebecca in January, Roberta in May, in the same Catholic church. As far as could be determined, neither had been married before. There was no record of either of them ever holding a job. There were no children. Neither had a record. Jesse put the report down and leaned back in his chair. Nothing.

  How had they spent their lives? "Can I make you a martini, darling?" "What would you like for supper, dear?"

  He took in some air and let it out slowly.

  Molly put her head in the doorway.

  "The Patriarch guy from the Renewal is here reporting a missing person, Jesse," she said. "You want to see him?"

  Jesse nodded. Molly disappeared and returned with the Patriarch. He took a seat in front of Jesse's desk.

  "Coffee?" Jesse said.

  The Patriarch shook his head and smiled slightly.

  "We don't use caffeine," he said.

  "I should have remembered," Jesse said.

  "Perhaps you have other things to remember," the Patriarch said.

  "And some I'd like to forget," Jesse said. "You have someone missing?"

  "Cheryl DeMarco," he said. "She did not come home last night."

  "You keep that close a tab?"

  "We don't require them to come home," the Patriarch said. "But we need to know where they are, like any family."

  "And you don't know."

  "No. She went out yesterday to mingle and she didn't return."

  " 'Mingle'?"

  "We like all of us to mingle with our neighbors," the Patriarch said.

  "Maybe some sort of romantic tryst?" Jesse said.

  "Todd doesn't know where she is, either," the Patriarch said.

  "Todd's her boyfriend?" Jesse said.

  "Yes, her current life companion," the Patriarch said.

  Jesse nodded.

  "She wouldn't cheat on him," Jesse said.

  "No."

  "You're sure?"

  "No," the Patriarch said. "Humans are too various for certainty. I don't believe she would cheat on her life companion."

  "Have you tried her parents' home?"

  "They will not take our calls," the Patriarch said.

  "So as far as you know, they are not aware that she's missing?"

  "I have no knowledge of them," the Patriarch said. "I know only that they hired a private detective to locate her and try to convince her to come home."

  "Sunny Randall," Jesse said.

  "You know her?"

  "I do."

  "Sometimes parents will arrange to have their children kidnapped," the Patriarch said. "Their own children."

  "Not Sunny's style."

  "No," the Patriarch said. "It didn't seem so to me, when we spoke."

  "Have you told her that Cheryl is missing?" Jesse said.

  "It didn't occur to me."

  "I'll be speaking to her," Jesse said. "I'll tell her."

  "You think she could be helpful?" the Patriarch said.

  "She knows what Cheryl looks like," Jesse said. "And I don't."

  "I hadn't thought of that."

  "Do you have a picture?" Jesse said.

  "No."

  "How about Todd?"

  "I don't know," the Patriarch said. "I can ask."

  "She drive a car?" Jesse said.

  "She didn't own one," the Patriarch said. "Why?"

  "If she's got a license we can get a picture from the registry."

  "Oh," the Patriarch said. "Of course. I am not very worldly about such things."

  "No reason you should be," Jesse said.

  "I can describe her," the Patriarch said.

  "Sure," Jesse said.

  The Patriarch described her. Jesse took a couple of notes. When he finished describing, the Patriarch said, "Do you think she's all right?"

  "Probably," Jesse said.

  "Can you find her?"

  "Probably," Jesse said.

  21

  THEY TOLD ME she'd been brainwashed by a cult," Sunny Randall said, "when they hired me."

  She sat beside Jesse in the front seat of Jesse's car as they drove southbound on Route 128.

  "And that they wanted me to find her and talk to her and, if possible, bring her home."

  "So you went to visit," Jesse said.

  "I did," Sunny said.

  "And you found something less than Charles Manson and friends," Jesse said.

  "You've talked with the Patriarch person?" Sunny said.

  "Yes."

  "The whole operation seems to me about as sinister as a Brownie troop," Sunny said.

  "Less," Jesse said.

  "You're right," Sunny said. "I never liked all that scouting crap, either."

  "And the kid didn't want to leave," Jesse said.

  "No."

  "So I said maybe I could bring Mom and Dad," Sunny said. "And the kid laughed."

  "But you tried," Jesse said.

  "I did. I told them it seemed very unsinister, and maybe if they saw it . . ."

  "What did they say?"

  "They weren't interested. Their name isn't DeMarco, by the way. They changed it to Markham."

  "Sounded more Concordian?" Jesse said.

  "Yes. Elsa said DeMarco was too North End."

  "But the kid is keeping her birth name," Jesse said.

  "Guess so," Sunny said. "They'll never let me in, or you, either, if I'm with you. You don't have much official standing here."

  "I've arranged for a Concord police detective to go with us, sort of disarm the matter of jurisdiction," Jesse said.

  "No wonder you made chief," Sunny said.

  "I made chief because the selectmen at the time wanted a drunk they could control," Jesse said.

  "They erred," Sunny said.

  "They got the drunk part right," Jesse said. "I guess they were a little off on the control part . . . so far."

  "Well, aren't we down on ourselves today," Sunny said. "Want to share?"

  Jesse didn't answer for a time. They reached Route 2 and turned west toward Concord.

  "The night Knocko Moynihan got shot they couldn't find me. I was passed out dead drunk at home."

  Sunny nodded.

  "You know what set you off?" she said.

  "Maybe I'm just a drunk," Jesse said.

  "Whatever you are, Jesse," Sunny said, "you are not just a drunk."

  Jesse shrugged.

  "What's Dix say?"

  "You think I told him?"

  "Of course you told him," Sunny said. "What's he for?" Jesse nodded slowly.

  "We're work
ing on that question," Jesse said.

  " 'What he's for?' "

  "No," Jesse said. "We're working on what set me off."

  "Is it okay now," Sunny said. "I mean, in town?"

  "Yes," Jesse said. "Molly and Suit covered for me. Said I was out of town at the time, an issue with my ex-wife."

  "And the selectmen bought it?"

  "They did," Jesse said. "They're not the smartest three guys in town."

  "If they were," Sunny said, "they probably wouldn't be spending time as selectmen."

  "Good point," Jesse said.

  They paused behind several other cars at a stoplight at the juncture with Route 2A's bypass, where Route 2 took a sharp turn southwest.

  "But you must feel lousy about it," Sunny said.

  "Yes."

  "Ashamed," Sunny said.

  "Yes."

  "Had a drink since?" Sunny said.

  "No."

  "Miss it?"

  Jesse nodded.

  "Yes," he said.

  "I don't think you're an alcoholic, Jesse," Sunny said. "I think you like to drink. I think when you're unhappy it helps you feel better. But I don't think you have to stop. I think you could drink in moderation if you get your, for lack of a better description, psyche settled."

  The light changed. Jesse drove across the intersection and into Concord.

  "I'll work on it," he said.

  "I know you will," Sunny said.

  They were quiet until they reached the Concord police station. Jesse pulled in and parked. Then he turned and put his hand on Sunny's thigh.

  "Thank you," he said.

  Sunny put her hand over his and smiled.

  "You're welcome," she said.

  22

  THEY PICKED UP a Concord detective named Sherman Kennedy and drove in a Concord police car to the Markham home.

  "It's ugly," Jesse said, as they got out of the cruiser. "But pretentious."

  "True," Sunny said. "But it's much worse inside."

  Kennedy laughed.

  "Summers," he said, "I used to work construction while I was going to college. And I worked on this place. They built a whole bunch of them out here when mortgage money was easy."

  He was a sturdy young guy with a crew cut and some modest lettering that said Sherm tattooed on his left wrist.

  "Some foreclosures around here?"

  "Like a damned going-out-of-business sale. People got balloon notes all of a sudden coming due. People who had no business buying one of these fucking monsters . . . 'Scuse me, Ms. Randall."