58
It was twenty minutes to midnight when Jenn called and woke Jesse up.
“I just did the eleven-o’clock
news,” Jenn said. “Did I wake
you.”
“No,” Jesse said. “I was
awake.”
“Your voice sounds like you were
sleeping,” Jenn
said.
“I’m awake,” Jesse said.
“I wanted to apologize,” Jenn said.
“Okay.”
“You were sleeping.”
“And you called to apologize for waking me?”
“No, silly, for the other day, when I wanted you to give me
special access.”
“Which is more than I get,” Jesse said.
“I know,” Jenn said. “But what
was so bad about it was, here you
are with this huge serial killer problem to deal with, and I’m
thinking only about what would be best for me.”
“What’s new,” Jesse said.
Jenn was silent for a moment.
“Well,” she said. “You are
grouchy.”
“I am,” Jesse said.
“It’s okay,” Jenn said.
“You deserve to be.”
“Thanks.”
“What I want you to know is that I realize I was thinking only
about myself and my career when I asked you to let me in with a camera.”
Jesse was silent.
“And I realize that I have often been that way with you.”
“I know,” Jesse said.
“You’re not going to help me with
this,” Jenn said. “Are
you?”
“You’re doing fine by yourself,”
Jesse said.
“I’m going to try to be better,”
Jenn said.
Jesse waited.
“It’s a hard balancing,” Jenn
said. “If I go too far the other
way, I give myself away. I become entirely dependent on someone else to direct my likes and dislikes, what I want to do, what I should do. You know?”
“Yes,” Jesse said.
“And after a while I resent it, and the resentment builds, and
after a while I explode and go the whole other way. Instead of being all about you, it becomes all about me.”
“Be nice if you could find a middle
ground,” Jesse
said.
“Yes,” Jenn said.
Jesse was lying on his back in the dark, with the phone hunched
in his left shoulder. His handgun was on the night table beside the bed. There was no sound in the apartment.
“Maybe I can,” Jenn said.
“We both have changes to make,” Jesse said.
“I wonder who we’ll be when
we’ve made them,” Jenn
said.
“Whoever we are,” Jesse said,
“we won’t be
worse.”
“I can’t seem to get you out of my
life,” Jenn
said.
“I know,” Jesse said.
“Can you wait?” Jenn said.
“Until I get better?”
“I have so far,” Jesse said.
“But will you still?”
“I don’t know, Jenn. I try not to plan too far
ahead.”
“I don’t want a life without you in
it.”
“That’s not entirely up to you,
Jenn.”
Jenn was quiet for a time. The bedroom was in the back of the apartment, away from the harbor. There was a dim hint of light from the street made a little brighter by the snow cover.
“Is there anyone else?” Jenn said.
“Not yet,” Jesse said.
“But there might be?”
“Jenn,” Jesse said. “My life
would be far less complicated if I
could be happy without you.”
“I know,” she said.
“But so far,” Jesse said, “I
can’t.”
They were both quiet, still connected by the phone line, with nothing much else to say. The silence extended.
“The pressure about those serial murders must be awful.”
“Everyone feels it would be good to catch them,” Jesse
said.
“Including you,” Jenn said.
“That’s where the most pressure
is.”
Jesse didn’t comment.
“And you have to carry it alone.”
“Not entirely,” Jesse said.
“I wish I could help you,” Jenn said.
“Be good if you could,” Jesse said.
Again they allowed the silence to settle.
“I’m sorry,” Jenn said.
“I know.”
“I’m working on it,” she said.
“I am too.”
“I know.”
There was more connective silence.
“We’ll get there,” Jenn said
finally.
“We’ll get somewhere,” Jesse
said.
59
When Jesse came into the station house Molly was at the front desk.
“You’ve reached new heights of
popularity,” she
said.
“Hard to believe,” Jesse said.
“Tony Lincoln called,” Molly said.
“He and Mrs. Lincoln will be
downtown this morning and would love to buy you lunch.”
“I have reached new heights,” Jesse said.
“Told you,” Molly said.
“They say where?”
“Gray Gull,” Molly said.
“Twelve-thirty.”
“Call them back,” Jesse said.
“Tell them I’ll meet them
there.”
“What do you suppose they’re
doing?” Molly said.
“Maybe they’ll tell me,” Jesse
said. “At lunch.”
“You might think about being a little careful,” Molly said.
“Bring some backup maybe?”
“Don’t want to discourage them,”
Jesse said.
“We don’t want them discouraging you, either,” Molly said. “In a
manner of speaking.”
“If it comes to confrontation,” Jesse said, “I figure I’m better
than they are.”
“And if you’re not?” Molly said.
Jesse shrugged.
“Jesse, you’re a good man and a good cop,” Molly said. “Better
than this town deserves.”
“Thank you.”
“It matters what happens to you,” Molly said.
“The ugly truth of it, Moll, is that it doesn’t matter a hell of
a lot to me.”
Molly looked at him silently. After a time she said,
“A lot of
people love you, Jesse.”
Jesse smiled. “Including you?”
“Especially me,” Molly said.
“And don’t shut me off by being
cute.”
“It’s hard for me not to be
cute,” Jesse said.
“I give up,” Molly said.
They were both silent for a moment.
Then Jesse said, “Thanks, Molly,” and went on into his
office.
At quarter past twelve Jesse showed up at the Gray Gull, and got
a seat by the window, in a corner, where it would be easier to talk. The Lincolns showed up at 12:30. They came in bubbling with good cheer. Tony was wearing a navy pea coat and a gray turtleneck sweater. Brianna had on fur. Jesse didn’t know what kind.
Jesse
stood as they approached.
“Hi,” Tony said. “Thanks for
com
ing.”
“Never turn down a free lunch,” Jesse said.
“Well, I know how busy you must be, but Brianna and I really
enjoyed talking to you before, and since we were in the neighborhood.”
Jesse nodded. The Lincolns took off their coats and piled them on the empty fourth chair at the table.
“Please,” Brianna said.
“There’s no need for you to
stand.”
“I’ll wait for you,” Jesse said.
When they were all seated, the waiter brought menus.
“You come here very much, Jesse?” Brianna said.
“Yes.”
“What’s good?”
“The view,” Jesse said.
Both Lincolns laughed.
“Oh my,” Brianna said.
“That’s not too
encouraging.”
“I guess we’d best not test the
kitchen,” Tony said. “Sandwiches
okay?”
“Sure,” Jesse said.
“It’s after noon,” Tony said.
“Shall we have a
cocktail?”
“We really ought to,” Brianna said.
Jesse nodded. Both the Lincolns ordered a cosmopolitan. Jesse had cranberry juice and soda.
“Of course,” Tony said. “How
thoughtless of us. You’re on
duty.”
Jesse let it go.
“The view is certainly everything it should be,” Brianna
said.
The day was bright, the neck across the harbor was covered with
new snow. The ocean water reflected the blue sky.
“It’s what they’re
selling,” Tony said. “If Jesse is right about the food.”
Jesse ordered the club sandwich again. Tony and Brianna each had
tuna salad on toasted whole wheat. Goes great with the cosmopolitan, Jesse thought.
“How’s the investigation going?”
Tony said.
“The serial killings?”
“Yes. Oh, of course,” Tony said.
“Talk about an amateur. It
never occurred to me that you had other cases.”
Jesse smiled.
“So in the serial killings,” Tony said.
“Are you getting
anywhere?”
Brianna was silent, listening to her husband, watching Jesse.
“There’s progress,” Jesse said.
“Really,” Tony said. “Are you at
liberty to talk about
it?”
Jesse shook his head.
“I understand,” Tony said.
“I hope none of them suffered,” Brianna said.
“The victims?” Jesse shook his head.
“It was over pretty
quick.”
“Good,” Brianna said.
“Do you think they knew, before they were shot, that they were
going to be shot?”
Jesse shrugged.
“What must it be like,” Brianna said.
“To know you’re going to
die.”
“Brianna,” Tony said. “Everybody
knows that.”
“It’s one thing,” Brianna said,
“to know you’re going to die
someday, and quite another to know you’re going to die in the next
moment.”
Tony nodded.
He said, “Have you ever been in that position, Jesse?”
“Facing death?” Brianna said.
Jesse smiled.
“I’m just a small-town cop,”
Jesse said. “Mostly we give out
parking tickets.”
He noticed that Brianna had put her hand on her husband’s thigh.
Neither of them had eaten much of their sandwiches.
“It must make everything very intense,”
Tony
said.
“I always wondered what it was like for the shooter,” Jesse
said. “That might be intense.”
“Exercising the ultimate human power,”
Tony said.
“If the shooter thinks about that kind of stuff,” Jesse
said.
“Do you think they do?”
Again Jesse shrugged.
“I’m just a small-town cop,”
Jesse said. “Mostly we give out
parking tickets.”
“I read somewhere that you came here from Los Angeles,” Tony
said.
His wife’s hand was still resting on his thigh. He had covered
it with his hand as they talked.
“Everybody has to come from someplace,”
Jesse
said.
“I think you are being modest,” Brianna said. “I think you might
know a lot about being a policeman.”
Jesse grinned at them.
“I’ve got a lot to be modest
about,” he said.
Tony gestured to the waiter for the check.
“You are a very interesting man,” Tony said.
“You certainly are,” Brianna said.
“I hope you haven’t minded us
asking you all these dumb questions.”
“Not at all,” Jesse said. “I
wish more citizens were as
interested in the police department.”
“Well, I don’t know why they’re
not,” Tony said.
He stood and put out his hand.
“I know you must be pressed for time.”
“A little,” Jesse said.
“Go ahead,” Tony said.
“I’ve got the check.”
“Thanks,” Jesse said.
“It’s been a nice break to talk with you.”
“Oh, how nice,” Brianna said.
“We must do it again
soon.”
Jesse stood, shook Tony’s hand, and
Brianna’s, and walked to the
door. Tony and Brianna watched him go. When he was out of the restaurant they sat back down at the table.
“Can he be as simple as he seems?” Brianna said.
“He probably is,” Tony said.
“But even if he isn’t, what
difference does it make. He’s simpler than we are.”
“You’re so sure,” Brianna said.
“You can’t seriously think that some small-town cop is as smart
as we are.”
“He didn’t say he wasn’t from
Los Angeles,” Brianna
said.
“I don’t care if he’s from
Mars,” Tony said. “People don’t
become policemen because they are great thinkers.”
“Are we great thinkers,” Brianna said.
“We’re not ordinary, Brianna. Never forget that we are not
ordinary.”
She leaned toward him and kissed him on the mouth and let the kiss linger.
“I’ll try to remember,” she said.
60
Jesse drove up Summer Street with Candace in the front seat beside him.
“I don’t even know what a vizsla
is,” she said.
“It’s a Hungarian pointer,”
Jesse said. “Sort of like a smallish weimaraner, only gold.”
“Do they bite?”
“I don’t think so,” Jesse said.
“Are you having second
thoughts?”
“No. I want him. I’m just
nervous.”
“Your parents are okay with this,” Jesse said.
“I don’t think my mother likes it too much,” Candace said. “But
my father said yes.”
“So it’s yes.”
“My mother does what Daddy says.”
“And why do you want the dog?”
“I
want somebody I can love,” Candace said.
“Right answer,” Jesse said. “But
loving isn’t enough, you know.
You have to take care.”
“I know. Feed him. Walk him.” She wrinkled her nose. “Clean up
after him. I went over all this with my mother and father.”
“How is it at home?” Jesse said.
“My mother is kind of, like …
sulky.”
“And your father?”
“Daddy’s great.”
“Your mother will get over it,” Jesse said.
Like I know.
“I never saw Daddy fight with anybody before.”
“Like with the Marinos?”
“Yes. He never even gets mad, very much.”
Jesse nodded.
“You didn’t try to stop it,”
Candace said.
Jesse smiled. “He was winning,” he said.
“You wanted them to get punched up,” she said.
“I did.”
“Daddy boxed in college, you know.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever box?”
“I don’t box,” Jesse said.
“I fight.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Rules,” Jesse said. “How is it
for you at
school.”
“Sometimes Bo or Troy will, like, smirk at me when I pass one of
them. But they don’t say anything. A lot of the kids are great
about it. Some of the other boys, football players and stuff, they call me Centerfold.”
“Like Playboy
Centerfold,” Jesse said.
She nodded.
“That sucks,” Jesse said.
Candace shrugged. Jesse pulled off of Summer Street onto a narrow road that led down to Pynchon Pond.
Bob Valenti lived at the edge of Paradise in a small yellow house that backed up to the pond. The house was right next to the street, and the modest backyard had been enclosed with a wire fence. Jesse pulled his car up in front of the house. He parked without shutting off the engine, so he could leave the heater running.
“There’s Goldie,” Jesse said.
The vizsla was sitting in the back corner of the yard, motionless, looking through the fence. He saw the car and followed it with his eyes as it parked. He didn’t bark.
“Omigod,” Candace said. “The
poor thing.”
“Things will be better for him,” Jesse said.
“Yes,” Candace said. “I will
really take care of
him.”
“Remember,” Jesse said.
“He’s lost one owner, and is now
relocating again.”
“I never had a dog before,” Candace said.
“Your father said he did.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll be nervous for a while,”
Jesse said.
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