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Split Image

Page 10

by Robert B. Parker


  "What about Ognowski?"

  "Maybe Molly's right," Dix said. "Maybe Knocko was too repellent for one . . . or, for that matter, for both. In any case, it doesn't change anything. The pathology seems firmly established, and if the usual way didn't work, it would find another."

  "But we don't know if any of this is true," Jesse said.

  "No," Dix said. "It's an educated hypothesis which explains the data we have."

  "It's a guess," Jesse said.

  "Exactly," Dix said.

  "And even if it's accurate," Jesse said, "what good does it do me?"

  "Not my department," Dix said.

  "Better to know than not to know, I suppose."

  "Of course, we don't actually know anything," Dix said.

  "It's an educated hypothesis which explains the data we have," Jesse said.

  "Well said."

  "But it still doesn't explain two murders," Jesse said.

  "No," Dix said. "It doesn't. But it might help define the area of speculation."

  "Man," Jesse said. "Sometimes you talk just like a shrink."

  "There's probably a reason for that," Dix said.

  "Where do I go from here?" Jesse said.

  "I don't know," Dix said.

  "You're supposed to know."

  Dix smiled.

  "I never promised you a rose garden," he said.

  "No one seems to," Jesse said.

  They were silent for a moment.

  Then Dix said, "We have some time left."

  Jesse nodded.

  "Why was I so taken with them?" he said.

  "The twins," Dix said.

  "Yeah. I was so envious of them that I went on a bender," Jesse said.

  "And why was it you were so envious?" Dix said.

  Jesse said, "Why wouldn't I be?"

  Dix moved his shoulders in something that might have been a shrug.

  "Everybody wants to be loved," Jesse said.

  "Love manifests," Dix said, "in many ways."

  "Wow," Jesse said. "That's a real shrink phrase."

  "Feeling some anger?" Dix said. "At me?"

  Jesse shrugged.

  "Why do you suppose you're angry?" Dix said.

  Jesse took in a deep breath and let it out in slow exasperation.

  "Because you're leading me to face something I don't want to face," he said.

  Dix said nothing.

  "They were both so submissive," Jesse said. "So . . ." He made a circular motion with his hand as he searched for the word.

  "Self-abnegating?" Dix said.

  "Hoo-ha!" Jesse said. "Self-abnegating."

  "You know what it means," Dix said.

  Jesse nodded.

  "And you're right," he said. "I loved how self-abnegating they were."

  "So, if they put themselves aside . . . ?" Dix said.

  "Then they totally belonged to the husband," Jesse said.

  Dix waited. He leaned back a little farther. His elbows were on the arms of his chair. His hands were folded in front of him. He rubbed the balls of his thumbs lightly together.

  "What woman would want that?" Jesse said.

  Dix waited.

  "What man would want a woman to be like that?" Jesse said.

  Dix waited.

  "I don't like women like that," Jesse said.

  Dix moved his head slightly. It might have been a nod.

  "A woman like that couldn't leave me," Jesse said.

  Dix nodded.

  "Jesus," Jesse said. "I was asking Jenn to do things she couldn't do, and shouldn't."

  "Probably," Dix said.

  "And then I blamed her when she cheated."

  "Tough place for Jenn to be," Dix said.

  "Why the hell am I like that?" Jesse said.

  Dix looked at his watch.

  "Don't know," he said. "Maybe we'll find out. Maybe we'll never know. But perhaps you won't make the same mistake again."

  Jesse nodded. When he left the office, he felt a little dizzy. And his head felt overused.

  40

  WHAT'S THAT EASEL ?" Cheryl said.

  They were sitting at Sunny's kitchen counter. Sunny had toasted some English muffins for breakfast, and they were eating the muffins and drinking coffee.

  "I'm painting a picture," Sunny said.

  "You're a painter?"

  "Sort of," Sunny said.

  Cheryl went down and looked at the painting.

  "It's a dog," Cheryl said.

  "Yes."

  "Is it your dog?"

  "It was," Sunny said. "Her name was Rosie."

  "She dead?"

  "Yes."

  Cheryl walked back to the counter.

  "That's too bad," she said. "I never had a dog."

  Sunny nodded.

  "Tell me how you ended up in the Rackley center," she said.

  "I was walking back toward the Renewal House," Cheryl said. "And a car stopped ahead of me and a lady got out of the backseat and said could I help her with directions. So I say sure, and the lady yells into the car, 'Show her the map,' or something like that. I lean in to look at the map and the lady pushes me in and the guy grabs me and the lady gets in behind me and shuts the door and the car drove away."

  "They say anything?" Sunny asked.

  "Lady told me to shut up or I'd get hurt. I was scared. I did what they said. And they brought me to the school or whatever it was, and the white coats came and took me in and gave me some kind of shot in my arm and locked me in my room."

  "Anyone ever talk with you?"

  "Dr. Patton," she said.

  "What did he tell you," Sunny said.

  "He told me that the center was here to help, and I was there because my parents were worried about me."

  "Did your parents come to see you?"

  "I don't think so," Cheryl said. "I was kind of woozy most of the time."

  "I've got a doctor appointment for you later today."

  "How come I need a doctor?" Cheryl said.

  "I don't think there's anything wrong with you," Sunny said. "It just seems like the right thing to do."

  "Okay," Cheryl said. "Will you go with me?"

  "Of course."

  "What about that guy?"

  "Spike?"

  "The big, fat one," Cheryl said.

  "Spike's built like a bear," Sunny said. "He's not as fat as he looks."

  "Is he your boyfriend?" Cheryl said.

  "No."

  "Does he, like, work for you?"

  "No, Spike is my best friend," Sunny said.

  "But not your boyfriend."

  "No," Sunny said. "Spike is gay."

  "Wow," Cheryl said. "He doesn't look gay."

  "I guess he feels gay," Sunny said.

  "I thought gay guys were all, you know, fa-la-la," Cheryl said.

  "Spike is not fa-la-la," Sunny said.

  "Didn't he hammer the two white coats?"

  "He did," Sunny said.

  "I guess he's not," Cheryl said.

  "So get showered and changed," Sunny said. "And I'll take you over to MGH to see my gyno."

  "I don't think I like gynos much," Cheryl said.

  "You've been to a gyno already?"

  "Yes. My mother kept worrying I'd get pregnant. I didn't like him."

  "You'll like Beth Thomson," Sunny said. "She's fun."

  "The gyno my mother took me to was a man," Cheryl said.

  "After that we'll go see your parents," Sunny said.

  "No."

  "Yeah, we gotta do that," Sunny said. "I'll be with you. We'll visit and leave. But we need to confront them."

  "Why?"

  "We need--you need, and I need--to figure out why they had you kidnapped."

  "They don't want me to be with the Renewal."

  Sunny nodded.

  "We probably need to know a little more about why," Sunny said. "We also need to figure out how you and they can have a relationship."

  "I don't want one," Cheryl said. "And neither do the
y."

  "So, you're ready to be on your own at eighteen?" Sunny said.

  "Todd will take care of me."

  "And who takes care of Todd? What does either of you do for a living?"

  "We'll make it work," Cheryl said. "We love each other."

  "Might be able to make out better if your parents contributed to your support until you sort of got your feet under you."

  "They won't do that," Cheryl said.

  "Maybe we can insist," Sunny said.

  " 'Insist'?"

  "We sort of have the goods on them," Sunny said.

  Cheryl stared at her.

  "Can Spike come?" Cheryl said, after a moment of staring.

  Sunny smiled.

  "Sure," she said.

  "I'd like to see my father yell at Spike," Cheryl said.

  "He might yell," Sunny said. "I think Spike will remain calm."

  "I bet my father would be scared of Spike."

  "If your father has a brain," Sunny said.

  "I'll go if Spike comes," Cheryl said.

  "He'll come," Sunny said.

  41

  THE NIGHT WAS fading outside Jesse's office window when Healy came in. He walked to a file cabinet, took a glass off the top, walked back around Jesse's desk, took a seat, and held the glass out. Jesse smiled and took a bottle out of his desk drawer and poured Healy an inch or so of scotch.

  "You gonna join me?" Healy said.

  Jesse paused for a moment.

  "I don't think you're an alcoholic," Sunny had said. See if she's right.

  He got another glass and poured himself a drink. He made a "here's to you" gesture at Healy and took in a small swallow. Healy drank.

  "What's new with your homicides," Healy said.

  Jesse leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desktop.

  "Lemme tell you about the Bang Bang Twins," he said.

  Healy sipped his scotch.

  "Okay," he said.

  Jesse told him.

  "Guess we misjudged them a little," Healy said.

  Jesse shrugged and drank some scotch.

  "You think the four of them were playing house?" Healy said.

  "The Moynihans and the Galens?" Jesse said.

  "Yeah."

  "Molly says that no woman would play house with Knocko," Jesse said.

  "I hope she's right," Healy said.

  "Yeah, it's not an appealing thought," Jesse said.

  "You think they were both fucking Ognowski?" Healy said.

  "Maybe," Jesse said.

  "If they were, now they aren't," Healy said.

  Jesse nodded.

  "You know what I'm thinking about?" Jesse said.

  "I'd worry about myself," Healy said, "if I did."

  "I'm thinking that this Bang Bang thing is a long-standing pathology. . . ."

  "You been talking to your shrink," Healy said.

  "I have," Jesse said. "But that aside, it seems like these women need to do what they do, and if they don't have Knocko, or Ognowski, what do they do?"

  "Reggie?" Healy said.

  "Maybe," Jesse said.

  "On the other hand," Healy said, "if Reggie's part of the game, they had him before."

  Jesse nodded.

  "Two guys were killed," he said. "If it's the Bang Bang game. Which any way you turn it suggests they wanted more than Reggie."

  "Does," Healy said.

  His glass was empty. He held it out and Jesse filled it.

  "Be good to know what they are doing now," Jesse said.

  "Surveillance?"

  "Round the clock?" Jesse said. "Out on Paradise Neck? I got a twelve-person department."

  "Twelve's enough," Healy said.

  "Town life goes on," Jesse said. "Parking laws gotta be enforced. Drunks gotta be hauled in for the night. Domestic disturbances have to be dealt with. Rabid raccoons have to be shot."

  "Yeah, yeah," Healy said. "I get it."

  "You want to loan me some people?" Jesse said.

  "No."

  "Figured you wouldn't."

  "Can't," Healy said.

  "No," Jesse said. "I know you can't. You got your own rabid raccoons to shoot."

  "Surveillance camera wouldn't solve your problem," Healy said.

  "No."

  "You need more people."

  "I do," Jesse said.

  "But even if you had more people," Healy said, "and you're able to spot them in delicato, so to speak, what have you got."

  "Maybe some leverage," Jesse said. "Right now they're just the grieving family."

  "Maybe you can establish some connection to Ognowski's killing," Healy said. "That'd give you some leverage."

  "Speaking of grieving family," Jesse said.

  "Ognowski's got family?"

  "His old man is around. He's about the size of Malden," Jesse said. "And he's gonna find out who killed his son."

  "Maybe you should let him," Healy said.

  "Let him? I can't even find him," Jesse said.

  "I'll look in the files," Healy said.

  He finished his second drink and stood.

  "Keep me posted," Healy said.

  "Sure," Jesse said.

  When Healy was gone, Jesse washed Healy's glass in the sink. He looked at his own empty glass. He'd had only one drink. He could have one more. He poured some and put the bottle away, and sat and sipped the scotch and thought about how to get past the blank wall he kept bumping into in the two murders. When he was done with his second drink he sat for a time looking at the empty glass, and thinking about the murders, and about a third drink, and about Sunny Randall.

  "I like that woman," Jesse said aloud to his empty glass.

  He sat for a time longer. Then he got up and left the office and went home.

  42

  SPIKE WAS DRIVING. Sunny sat beside him. Cheryl was in the backseat. Sunny was on her cell phone.

  "Mrs. Markham? This is Sunny Randall. . . . Cheryl is with me, and we're coming to visit you. I think your husband should be there, too. . . . That is not my problem. He needs to be there."

  She ended the call, turned the cell phone off, and turned sideways in her seat so she could see Cheryl.

  "Golf," Sunny said.

  "He plays golf every Saturday morning with people from work."

  "How exciting for him," Spike said.

  "I think it's icky and boring," Cheryl said.

  "Ever play?" Sunny said.

  "No."

  "Hard to be so sure," Sunny said.

  "What if we go there and they grab me?" Cheryl said.

  "We grab you back," Sunny said.

  "You and Spike," Cheryl said.

  "Yep."

  "What if they call the cops?" Cheryl said.

  "They won't," Sunny said.

  "How can you be sure?"

  "Do you think your parents want to be publicly involved in a case where they arranged the kidnapping of their own daughter?"

  Cheryl thought about it.

  "That would be bad for him at work, wouldn't it," Cheryl said.

  "Not so good for either of them," Sunny said. "At the country club, either."

  "And you'd really tell?" Cheryl said.

  "I'd do what I thought was in your best interest," Sunny said. "But the threat that I might make will prevent the police from getting involved."

  Cheryl nodded.

  "They care a ton about what people think," she said.

  "Everybody cares some," Sunny said.

  "Except me," Spike said.

  "Sure," Sunny said. "How about those two young guys you talk to all the time when they come to the restaurant?"

  "That's different," Spike said. "They're really cute."

  "The trick is," Sunny said to Cheryl, "not to let it make you do things that are bad for you."

  "You care what people think?" Cheryl said.

  "Yes," Sunny said.

  "You ever do things that are bad for you?"

  "Yes," Sunny said.

 
She smiled at Cheryl.

  "Being an adult," Sunny said, "allows me to instruct you in things I can't do, either."

  "You don't talk much like an adult," Cheryl said.

  "I'll get better as I get older," Sunny said.

  Spike pulled the Navigator up in front of the Markham house.

  Sunny looked at Cheryl.

  "Here we go," Sunny said.

  43

  ELSA MARKHAM OPENED the front door.

  "Cheryl," Elsa said. "What on earth are you doing with these people?"

  Cheryl shrugged.

  Behind his wife, John Markham looked past his daughter at Spike.

  "Who is this?" Markham said to Sunny.

  "My walker," Sunny said.

  "How y'all doin'?" Spike said, and smiled widely.

  "Are you planning on coming home?" Elsa said. "Is that what this is all about?"

  "May we come in?" Sunny said.

  "We can talk here," Markham said.

  "No," Sunny said. "We can't. We're not selling vacuum cleaners. We need to come in and sit and talk like civilized adults."

  "About what?" Elsa said.

  "Your daughter's well-being, kidnapping, stuff like that," Sunny said.

  "What on earth are you talking about?" Elsa said.

  "Oh, for crissake," Markham said. "Let them in, Elsa."

  She hesitated.

  "Goddamn it, Elsa," Markham said.

  Elsa almost jumped back, and Sunny led Cheryl and Spike into the house. They sat in the living room, where Sunny had sat before.

  "Now," Markham said. "What's all this about?"

  "Just so we don't waste time," Sunny said, "I've spoken with Don Cahill and Harry Lyle. And I've been to the Rackley center, and Spike and I have spoken, somewhat briefly, with Abraham Patton, Ed.D."

  Elsa said, "I simply don't know what you're talking about." Markham said, "Elsa, be quiet. Not another word. I'm calling a lawyer."

  "Egad," Spike said. "A lawyer!"

  "I'm not the police, Mr. Markham," Sunny said. "You don't need a lawyer."

  Markham picked a cell phone up from the top of the coffee table.

  "You won't need to talk unless you wish to," Sunny said. "All you need to do is listen to what I say."

  Markham held the cell phone, but he didn't dial.

  "You arranged to kidnap your daughter and, as you can probably tell, I can prove it," Sunny said. "The chain of connection is apparent. Too many people are involved. And none of them are likely to go under protecting you."

  Markham was silent. Sunny held his stare.

 

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