“Secure the scene,” Jesse said. “I’m going to talk with Daisy.”
“I got no tape with me,” Suit said. “It’s in the car.”
“Suit,” Jesse said. “Just don’t let anyone fuck with the body, okay?”
“Oh,” Suit said. “Secure like that.”
Jesse nodded and went back into the restaurant. The two waitresses were setting the tables for lunch. Daisy stood with her arms folded, glaring out through the front window at the reporters drinking her coffee and eating her scones.
“Fucking vultures,” she said.
“Without them you got no morning paper,” Jesse said.
“They should mind their own business,” Daisy said.
“We are their business,” Jesse said. “You got a murder victim in your Dumpster, Daisy.”
“Well, you know,” Daisy said, “I sort of figured she didn’t jump in there for a nap.”
“We can stall the press for an hour or two maybe. But they’re going to know.”
Daisy nodded, and kept nodding as she stared out her window.
“It’s just a crime scene,” Jesse said. “You might want to close the place today. By tomorrow you’ll be old news.”
Daisy kept nodding, her thick arms folded over her considerable chest, her body rocking slightly.
“You might not want to be too colorful,” Jesse said.
“Like what?”
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“Like maybe not introduce yourself as Daisy Dyke, for instance.”
“I like that name. I’m proud of it.”
“No reason not to be. But it makes a nice headline, and reporters got space to fill.”
“Even though I don’t know nothing about the murder.”
“Even though,” Jesse said.
“Fuck them,” Daisy said.
“Good point,” Jesse said.
Daisy went to the front door and opened it and said, “Hey, scumbags, there’s a dead body out back of the restaurant.”
The reporters looked up. Daisy jerked a thumb toward the rear of the building.
“In the Dumpster,” she said.
Then she took a small sign off the inside doorknob and put it on the outside and shut the door. The sign said closed.
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Jesse sat in his office with Suitcase Simpson watching Daisy Dyke on the noon news.
“You bet I’m a lesbian,” Daisy said. “Married to a lesbian, and proud to be from Massachusetts.”
“So much for low profile,” Suit said.
The phone rang. Jesse clicked off the television. On the phone, Molly said, “Ms. Randall for you, Jesse.”
“Hold on a second,” Jesse said.
He looked at Suit.
“It’s Sunny Randall,” he said to Suit. “We’ll probably talk dirty on the phone and you’re too young.”
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
Suit shook his head.
“At your age,” he said, and stood and left the office.
“Put her on,” Jesse said to Molly.
“Shall I stay on the line?” Molly said.
“Jesus,” Jesse said. “This is like living in a frat house.”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Molly said.
In a moment he heard Sunny Randall’s voice.
“Walton Weeks?”
“Walton Fucking Weeks,” Jesse said.
“And somebody else,” Sunny said. “Are they connected?”
“Don’t know. ME is still thinking about it.”
“Are we a little busy,” she said, “up there in Paradise?”
“Actually, right now we’re marking time and fending off the press.”
“I saw Daisy Dyke on television,” Sunny said.
“Her finest hour,” Jesse said. “You’re home?”
“Yes.”
“Where you been?”
“Los Angeles,” Sunny said. “Tidying up the loose ends on the Erin Flint business.”
“Cronjager says he can tie Moon Monaghan to the killings out there.”
“Yes.”
“Buddy Bollen’s in witness protection,” Jesse said.
“I know.”
“You see your agent friend?” Jesse said.
“Tony Gault? I did.”
“You go shopping with him?”
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“On Rodeo Drive?” Sunny said.
Jesse said, “Yeah.”
“Maybe in the Jere Jillian boutique?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe in the fitting room?” she said.
Sunny’s voice seemed to develop overtones as she talked.
“Uh-huh.”
“No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m the chief of police, I gather information.”
“We aren’t going steady, are we?” Sunny said.
“Not quite,” Jesse said.
“We could,” Sunny said.
“You bet,” Jesse said.
“As soon as you’re clear of Jenn, and I’m clear of Richie.”
“Right after that,” Jesse said.
“Still,” Sunny said. “We might wish to relive some of those golden moments from the fitting room at Jere Jillian.”
“We do wish to do that,” Jesse said.
“I’ll come up tonight,” Sunny said. “About seven?”
“Should we have a drink first?”
“Oh, you civilized devil,” Sunny said. “You’re not going to jump me in the living room?”
“Probably not,” Jesse said. “Bring Rosie.”
“Of course,” Sunny said. “I’m pretty sure I love you.”
“Better than Richie?”
“Oops,” Sunny said.
“Yeah. And then there’s Jenn.”
“Oops again,” Sunny said.
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They were quiet for a moment, listening to nothing on the phone line between them.
“Doesn’t mean we won’t have a nice night,” Sunny said.
“No,” Jesse said. “It doesn’t.”
“One night at a time,” Sunny said.
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Late night?” Molly said.
Jesse nodded.
“How’s Sunny,” Molly said.
She was sitting with Jesse in his office, a notebook open in her lap.
“Very good,” Jesse said.
“I like her,” Molly said.
“Me too,” Jesse said.
“You want my opinion on the two of you?”
“No.”
“I think you’d be perfect together,” Molly said. R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
“What’s in your notebook?” Jesse said.
Molly smiled, mostly to herself, and looked down at her notebook.
“ME found some interesting stuff,” Molly said.
Jesse waited.
“They’ll have a formal report for us later,” Molly said,
“but here’s what they know now.”
Jesse waited.
“Aren’t you even going to say, ‘What? What?’ ” Molly said. Jesse looked at her.
“Okay,” she said. “First off, the bullets that killed her match the ones that killed Weeks.”
Jesse nodded.
“Second off, she was ten weeks pregnant.”
Jesse nodded again.
“Third off,” Molly said, “they did a DNA match. Weeks was the father.”
“That all?” Jesse said.
“You bastard,” Molly said. “No, that’s not all. Fourth off, she was killed about the same time Weeks was.”
“With the same gun,” Jesse said. “While carrying his child.”
“Perhaps the crimes are related,” Molly said.
“Good thinking,” Jesse said. “They have an ID on her?”
“No. Fingerprints aren’t in the system.”
“Or the
y are and the system lost them,” Jesse said.
“Wow, that’s cynical.”
“I been doing this for a while,” Jesse said.
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“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Jesse. You’re not much older than I am,” Molly said.
“But a lot uglier,” Jesse said.
“True,” Molly said. “I called the Langham. They tell me Weeks had a one-bedroom suite and two other rooms.”
“Who was in the other rooms?”
“Lutz the bodyguard,” Molly said. “And a woman named Carey Longley.”
“Get the bodyguard in here,” Jesse said.
“He’s coming in today,” Molly said.
“Okay, get some pictures of her from Peter Perkins. We’ll see if Lutz knows her.”
“She doesn’t look so good,” Molly said.
“It’s as good as she’s going to,” Jesse said.
Molly nodded. She closed her notebook and stood and walked to the door. With her hand on the knob, she stopped and turned and looked at him.
“You know I love you, Jesse.”
“As much as your husband and four kids?” Jesse said.
“No. But you’re next.”
Jesse smiled.
“Close enough,” he said.
“You deserve Sunny Randall,” Molly said.
“Not Jenn?” Jesse said.
“You deserve to be happy.”
“And you don’t think Jenn will make me happy?”
“How’s it been going so far,” Molly said.
Jesse nodded slowly.
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“Of course, you can tell me to mind my own business,”
Molly said.
“Mind your own business.”
“No,” Molly said.
She smiled at him and opened the door.
“I won’t,” she said, and went out.
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Jesse was eating a ham-and-cheese sandwich on light rye when Molly came in.
“Lutz is here,” Molly said.
Jesse took a bite of the half-sour pickle that Daisy Dyke always sent with her sandwiches.
“And your wife is on the phone.”
Jesse chewed the bite of pickle and swallowed.
“Ex-wife,” he said.
“So you say.”
Jesse took in some air and let it out slowly.
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
“Hold Lutz for a few minutes,” Jesse said. “I’ll talk to Jenn.”
Molly nodded. Jesse put his hand on the phone. Molly didn’t leave. Jesse looked at her with his hand on the phone. Molly shook her head and left the office. Jesse picked up the phone.
“Hi,” he said.
“I’m in your apartment,” Jenn said. “You have to come right now.”
Jesse nodded as if she could see him.
“Sort of a busy time right now, Jenn.”
“A man raped me,” she said.
Jesse felt it across his upper back and shoulders. His trapezius muscles bunched involuntarily.
“You need a doctor?” Jesse said.
“I need you.”
“I’ll be right there,” Jesse said.
He stood, and took his gun from the desk and put it on his belt. Then he walked out through the station. Molly was at the front desk. A big man with a thick mustache and a shaved head sat waiting. Jesse assumed it was Lutz.
“Ask Mr. Lutz to wait,” Jesse said to Molly.
She stared at him. He kept going out the front door of the station. It seemed to him that he moved inside some sort of soundless space that enveloped him as he drove. Jesse’s front door was locked. When he unlocked it, he discovered that the security chain was in place.
“It’s me, Jenn,” Jesse said through the small opening. 4 2
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“Okay,” Jenn said.
Her voice was small. She closed the door and slid the chain loose and opened it again. Jesse stepped in. Jenn backed away from him. She looked fine. Her makeup was in place. Her hair was smooth. She wore jeans that fit well and a white shirt open at the neck. He didn’t beat her up. As he closed the door and turned toward her, she seemed to move farther from him. He went to the bar and sat on a stool in front of his big picture of Ozzie Smith.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
She shook her head. She walked slowly to the window and looked out and then walked back toward the kitchen. She stopped near the kitchen door.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jenn said.
Jesse nodded. She walked to the hall leading to the bedroom and looked down it and turned and walked back to the kitchen door.
“Report it to the cops?” Jesse said.
She shook her head.
“I just finally got moved from weather girl to investiga tive reporter. It would ruin my credibility. You know what the press is like.”
“I do,” Jesse said.
“You know the guy?”
“No.”
“When did it happen?” Jesse said.
“Sunday night.”
“That’s four days ago.”
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“Yes,” Jenn said.
She walked to the front door and looked out through the sidelights. Jesse waited. After a time, Jenn turned back toward him.
“He’s stalking me.”
Again Jesse felt it across his shoulders. He was aware, against his hip, of the mild weight of his holstered gun.
“Is he here?” Jesse said.
Jenn seemed to jump a little.
“Here?”
“Did he follow you here?” Jesse said.
“No. I saw him outside my apartment this morning, so went out through the back cellar door and down the alley. I took a cab here.”
“How long has he stalked you.”
“I saw him near the station when I went in, the day after it happened. Yesterday, he was hanging around a shoot I was on in Natick. . . . What would you have done if he were here.”
Jesse was quiet.
“I want to know,” Jenn said.
“I would have seen to it,” Jesse said, “that he never hurt you again.”
Jenn nodded and folded her arms and leaned her back against the door.
“Would you kill him?”
“If I had to,” Jesse said.
“I’d kill him,” Jenn said. “I will kill him if I get a chance.”
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Jesse nodded.
“I need you to get me a gun.”
Jesse nodded.
“And show me how to use it.”
“I can do that,” Jesse said.
“You know what the bastard was like?” Jenn said. Jesse shook his head.
“He came into my apartment right behind me,” Jenn said. “He had a gun. He stood there in my living room and pointed the gun at me and made me undress.”
Jesse was very still.
“For crissake, stand there and undress,” Jenn said. “Take off all my clothes, squirm out of my pantyhose, in front of a total fucking stranger.”
Jesse waited. Jenn was barely talking to him.
“And then I’m standing there completely undressed, nothing on, and the fucking sonovabitch couldn’t get it up.”
Jesse nodded.
“I had to stand there naked and watch him fondle himself until he was hard enough.”
Jenn’s breathing was heavy now, and short. Jesse listened to the interior sound his own breath made going in and out. He was breathing harshly, too.
“Then he made me lie on the floor and he did it. On the floor. He jammed it in and pushed hard and called me names and told me I liked it rough.”
Jesse nodded.
“It hurt,” Jenn said.
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“Did you see a doctor?�
��
“No.”
“I can take you,” Jesse said.
“No.”
“How can I make it better?”
“Find him and kill him.”
Jesse nodded. Jenn stood and tried to control her breathing.
“I’ll find him,” Jesse said.
“And kill him?”
“Can you work with a sketch artist?” Jesse said. Jenn shrugged.
“Could you pick him out of a mug book?” Jesse said. Jenn shrugged again.
“I have to stay with you,” Jenn said. “You have to pro tect me.”
Jesse nodded.
“I’ll protect you,” he said.
“All the time.”
“There’ll be someone with you,” Jesse said, “all the time.”
“You?”
“Me or somebody good.”
“I want you,” Jenn said.
“We’ll figure something out,” Jesse said. “We’ll make it work.”
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Jenn’s lying down in the bedroom,” Jesse said on the phone.
“Can you talk with Lutz?”
“Sure,” Molly said.
“See if he can ID the woman,” Jesse said. “Find out what Weeks was doing in town. Why Weeks needed a bodyguard, that kind of thing.”
“I can do that,” Molly said.
“Thank you.”
“And run the daily briefing, and the front desk.”
“I know you can.”
“And take care of my husband and four kids.”
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
“Of course,” Jesse said.
“I am woman, hear me roar.”
“It won’t be forever,” Jesse said.
“What are you going to do about Jenn?” Molly said.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Maybe it will be forever.”
“No. I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m a woman, Jesse. I sympathize maybe more than you can imagine with Jenn. I want her safe, and I want the rapist where he should be.”
“Which might be in the ground,” Jesse said.
“I would have no problem with that,” Molly said. “As long as you came out of it okay.”
“Thank you.”
“I care about you, Jesse, and I can imagine how you feel,”
Molly said. “Yes, we can get by in the short run, probably. But this department won’t function without you.”
“Yes.”
“Especially now.”
“Yes.”
“Plus, you can’t find the rapist for her if you are home watching her all day.”
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