Robert B. Parker's the Bitterest Pill

by Reed Farrel Coleman

  “I am, but could you please ask Jerry to come out here.”

  She said, “I’m not certain he’s in.”

  It was a familiar stall that Vinnie took as his cue. “Tell him I’d like to speak with him.”

  Jolene rolled her eyes. “And you are?”

  “Vinnie Morris.”

  Jolene suddenly seemed to need the display case to hold her up. When she recovered, she turned and headed straight to the door she had disappeared through during Jesse’s last visit. But this time, Jerry was already coming through the door. He had no need of Jolene to deliver the message.

  “Hello, Mr. Morris.”

  “Hello, Jerry. How are you?”

  “Fine, Mr. Morris. Good.”

  “Really? You seem to be sweating a little there.” Vinnie offered him a pristine white handkerchief.

  “Thanks,” Jerry said, waving the hankie off. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

  “My friend, here,” Vinnie said, putting his hand on Jesse’s shoulder, “says you sold something that he had a receipt for. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but I like having good relations with the police.”

  Jerry’s eyes got big, and he was sweating more heavily. “The police?”

  Jesse took that as his cue and showed Jerry his Paradise police chief’s shield. Jerry seemed afflicted with the same weak legs that Jolene had experienced and put his hands on the display case for support as she had.

  “Chief Stone has some pretty crazy notions about you, Jerry. He thinks you’ve been moving merch through here that is connected with a drug syndicate. You know how I feel about drugs. I told him you would never do anything that stupid, something that might blow back on me and my business. I told him you knew how angry I would be if you did such a thing. Tell him he’s crazy, Jerry.”

  “Chief Stone, I can assure you we would never do anything to risk Mr. Morris’s concerns. Never.” Jerry was unconvincing.

  Vinnie Morris reached across the counter and patted Jerry on the biceps. “Good man.” He turned to Jesse. “See, Chief Stone, what did I tell you?”

  Jesse said nothing. He was sure Vinnie had sufficiently rattled Jerry’s cage. He shrugged, and after taking one last look at the Western novels, he left. Vinnie Morris stayed behind to say a few parting words to Jerry.

  Just as Nurse Lutz had waited for Jesse’s Explorer to pull away before punching in Arakel Sarkassian’s number, Jerry did the same.

  Sixty-four

  Ambrose North strolled into the stationhouse as if he owned the place. Ambrose North was the kind of man who would stroll into the White House or St. Peter’s and act the same way. Annette North looked slightly embarrassed and not a little bit wary. Petra North appeared about ready to jump out of her own skin. Jesse didn’t recognize the attorney who accompanied them, but was certain he was a high-priced Boston criminal lawyer bound to underestimate Jesse.

  “This is William Clark,” Ambrose North said, pointing at the attorney. “He is our daughter’s legal counsel.”

  Jesse nodded. “Counselor.”

  They shook hands, but it was perfunctory. Clark was conservatively dressed in a dark blue suit. He was a small, tidy man with a receding hairline and a serious demeanor.

  “Chief Stone,” Clark said, “will you please explain to me why my client has been summoned?”

  “Officer Crane went to the North household to have a casual conversation with your client about the opioid issues at our local high school. As is their right, Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose refused to give the officer access to their daughter. We have therefore requested a more formal interview. Your client is not under arrest, nor do we anticipate arresting or charging her, but we do have credible information that she has knowledge of a drug ring operating at the high school. The interview will be digitally and audio recorded.”

  “May her parents join us in the interview room?”

  “One parent, yes,” Jesse said.

  Petra looked more and more nervous as her parents huddled with Clark. Jesse heard the lawyer advising the parents to leave it to him and not to come into the interview room. It was sound advice. It was Jesse’s experience that parents, even ones with law degrees, could not help but react emotionally when their child was involved or when questions touched a nerve. But, as Jesse had anticipated, Ambrose North insisted on accompanying Clark and Petra during the interview.

  “Let us proceed, Chief Stone,” said Clark, gesturing for Jesse to lead the way.

  * * *

  —

  MEHDI, ARAKEL, STOJAN, and Georgi sat in the back room of a local Italian restaurant. The two thugs had stuffed their faces, seemingly without any sense of what they were there to discuss. Once their coffees had been served, Mehdi gave the waitress an extra twenty-dollar bill on top of the tip and asked her not to reenter the room for at least another fifteen minutes. She was happy to oblige.

  Mehdi began when the waitress slid the door shut behind her. “Gentlemen, we have a serious problem.”

  Stojan said, “Not to worry. We will be taking care from the girl and the teacher. We will enjoy, no, Georgi?”

  Georgi smiled a gap-toothed smile and nodded. “Enjoy very much, yes.”

  “At the moment, the girl and the teacher are mosquitoes on the ass of two elephants. First we must concern ourselves with the elephants. The mosquitoes can wait. Arakel, explain to them.”

  “Today, the police chief from Paradise, this Jesse Stone, came to the block of the clinic and exposed our police protection to scrutiny. He visited the old doctor’s home and he came to the pawnshop with—”

  Stojan interrupted. “We have already made move to the other location with clinic and Laghari says nothing. The old doctor is saying nothing.”

  Mehdi exploded. He slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the silverware and spilling his coffee on the tablecloth. “Shut up, you stupid gargoyle, and listen. Do not talk. Do not think. Listen!”

  Stojan glared at him but kept his mouth shut.

  Arakel went on. “Stone showed up at the pawn shop with Vinnie Morris at his side.”

  That got the thugs’ attention. Like everyone else in the Boston area, they knew of Vinnie Morris and were aware of his reputation.

  Mehdi said, “I see now that Arakel has gotten your attention.”

  “This cop is being paid by Morris?” asked Stojan.

  “I do not think so. I hear they are . . . friends.” Arakel turned his palms up. “They go back to a relationship with the late Gino Fish. At the pawn shop Morris tells Jerry the pawn man that he is aware he is doing business with us. Jerry is frightened.”

  Stojan had had it. “Enough talk. Who are we to kill? Morris?”

  “Not Morris,” Mehdi said. “We are not yet powerful enough to win a war we start. Not only would Morris’s people come at us, but the other families and gangs would worry they would be next. Morris, for now, is untouchable. We will deal with Jerry, along with the girl and the teacher. First—”

  “The cop,” Georgi said. “We kill the policeman.”

  Mehdi nodded. “With him gone, it will buy us the time to do the rest of what must be done. But it has to be done neatly and soon, not like the boy. An accident is best. Do you understand?”

  * * *

  —

  JESSE SAT ACROSS THE TABLE from Petra. He’d done all the preliminaries: given her a can of soda, reassured her, and explained about the camera and the recorder.

  In conclusion, Jesse said, “You have to give me verbal answers, Petra. Nodding or shaking your head doesn’t count, okay?”

  Naturally, she nodded yes. Everyone in the room, even Petra, laughed at that. Jesse had set her up for that in order to try to put her at ease. It did, for about five seconds. Then the near panic set back in. Jesse switched the equipment on, introduced himself, the others in the room, and stated the purpose of the interview. The first f
ew questions were easy ones: What is your full name? What is your date of birth? Where do you attend school? Like that.

  “Petra, are you aware of drug dealing, specifically Vicodin, Oxycontin, and heroin, at Paradise High School?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever used or been addicted to any of the drugs I just mentioned?”

  “No.”

  Jesse reached under the table and produced an evidence bag. “Did you steal and barter your father’s Rolex Submariner, now contained in the evidence bag, for drugs?”

  The girl looked ready to crack, but her father lost it, screaming at Jesse and threatening to end the session. Jesse ignored North’s threats. Clark, noticing the panic in the girl, seemed almost relieved by North’s outburst. He turned and advised North to calm down, but only after the girl had collected herself.

  “Petra, do you need me to repeat—”

  “No,” she said, calmly. “The answer is also no to your question.”

  She was asked if she knew about locker 113. Asked about Chris Grimm. Asked if she knew anyone else in the school doing drugs. Asked about Heather Mackey. The answer was always no. Although Jesse had been a shortstop and not a pitcher, he was preparing to throw the girl a curveball.

  “Okay, Petra, we’re almost done. One more question. Are you aware of the involvement of a female teacher at the high school connected to Chris Grimm and—”

  Both father and lawyer saw the change in the girl’s body language and the horrified look on her face.

  “My client won’t be answering that,” Clark said, standing as he did and pulling Petra up by the arm. “This interview is at an end. My client has given you your answers, Chief Stone. She has, as the recordings will show, denied having any connection to or knowledge of the drugs and how they are distributed. Therefore, the answer to your last question is obvious.”

  Jesse did not object. It was answer enough. “Thank you for coming in, Petra. You can go.” But as they were leaving, Jesse held the lawyer back. “You realize your client didn’t give a single truthful answer.”

  “Do I?”

  “Remember this, Counselor. Today was a free-pass day. That’s two chances I’ve given her to tell me what she knows. I like the girl and want her to have a happy life, but if another kid ODs and I find your client lied here tonight, trust me when I tell you you will be earning every cent of your hourly fee.”

  “Threats?”

  Jesse stared hard at the lawyer. “I don’t make threats, Mr. Clark. Have a good night.”

  Sixty-five

  The next morning Jesse pulled a chair up alongside Molly’s and had her run the video of his interview with Petra North. They sat and watched in silence. When the video of the interview was finished, Molly spoke first.

  “She’s lying.”

  “I think so.”

  “She was coached to give one-word answers and not to give a single syllable extra.”

  Jesse agreed. “Just like we’re taught to testify. No embellishments, no information beyond answering exactly what’s asked.”

  “She knows who the teacher is, doesn’t she?” Molly said. “When you asked her that, she looked like she was going to melt down.”

  “She knows. That girl is barely treading water, and I think her parents are going to let her go under rather than have their reputations dirtied.”

  He told her about what he had discovered in Boston, omitting Vinnie Morris’s presence at Precious Pawn and Loan and their lunch together. For the most part, Jesse didn’t care what other people thought of him, but Molly’s disapproval was an exception.

  “I need you to find out if Dr. Wexler has stopped writing prescriptions or whether he is still at it. If he is, it’s a miracle. Severe Alzheimer’s.”

  “Do you want me to do that before or after I finish the research on the teachers?” Molly asked, even as she handed Jesse a file. “That’s hers, Maryglenn’s.”

  Jesse understood. “Do it before, then get back to the teacher research. I’m going to go over to the high school later to let Principal Wester know we intend to interview all the women teachers sometime in the next few days. Now that I tipped my hand by asking Petra about the teacher, word will spread.”

  “Maybe not, Jesse. She might only warn the one teacher.”

  “We’ll see. Can you get Lundquist on the phone?”

  “Please would be nice.”

  “Would it?”

  “Jesse Stone!”

  “Please.”

  * * *

  —

  THIS TIME she went looking for the girl between classes and found her by her locker. As she walked by she whispered to the girl to meet her downstairs in the room with the discarded desks and blackboards.

  It was all Petra could do not to fall apart right there in the hall, but she held it together long enough not to follow immediately.

  Things in the dank, dimly lit room were very different from the last time they were there. Petra’s book bag was thrown to the floor, her lover grabbed her, pushed her gently onto one of the discarded teacher’s desks, and climbed atop her. Several minutes went by before a word passed between them.

  “I’m so sorry about how I treated you the last time we were here,” she said, brushing the back of her hand along the girl’s cheek. “I want to make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you.”

  But unlike in the past, when those words would have made Petra glow with excitement and vow eternal loyalty, she began sobbing.

  “What is it, lover? Don’t cry. Was it the interview?”

  Petra said, “They know.”

  It was all the older woman could do not to slap the girl and demand straight answers, but she knew she couldn’t play it the hard way. No, this performance had to be her best, because it was all about one thing—survival, her survival.

  “It’s okay, darling.” She kissed her eyes. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this. Just tell me.”

  “Jesse knows about you . . . not your name. I would never, ever tell him your name. I would die first, but he asked me if I knew about a female teacher at the high school being involved with the drugs.”

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. As long as he doesn’t know my name and we’re sure you will never betray me. You know I would never betray you.”

  “I know that. But things are . . . bad at home. My folks know I’ve been using and they knew I was lying when I told Jesse that I didn’t know anything about you. They pushed me to give them your name. My dad said we could use it as leverage in case the police charged me with anything, that they would drop charges against me if I could give up the teacher.”

  She kissed the girl. “But you didn’t.”

  “Never. I couldn’t. I love you.”

  “And I love you and I have a gift for you to prove it.” She climbed off the girl, retrieved her own bag, and pulled out a vial. She placed the vial in the girl’s right palm and closed her fingers around it. “I crushed up some pills for you from my stash. Snort a line or two of the powder and you will get a jolt and everything will be better. I promise. It will make it all go away for a while.” She kissed the girl softly on the lips.

  “I needed this,” Petra said. “Thank you. I’ve never snorted it before, so I’m a little nervous.”

  “Don’t be afraid, lover. It’s easy.”

  The girl began to twist open the vial.

  “No, no, darling, not here. It will be too much the first time to be in public. At home, in your room first, where no one can see you. Here, this is for now.” She handed Petra a little green pill.

  The girl swallowed it without hesitation. “Can we be together soon?”

  “Together, yes. Very soon. I have to go.” She kissed the girl and left.

  * * *

  —

  JESSE STARED AT the open file on his desk. He rarely felt dirty
about his job. Sure, being a cop meant you sometimes had to look at people’s lives under a microscope and that you often wouldn’t like what you found there. But this was different. He wasn’t looking at just anyone under the lens, but a woman he had twice spent the night with and for whom he had a growing affection, a woman he now suspected of possibly being at the center of a high school drug ring and having seduced a teenage boy.

  Molly stuck her head in. “Lundquist on line one. I have a call in to the state medical board, but they work at their own pace.” She didn’t bother waiting for Jesse to say anything and left.

  Lundquist asked, “What’s up, Jesse?”

  “I may have found something bigger than a drug ring at Paradise High School.”

  “What’s that?”

  “First, are you in good with the Narcotics Division?”

  “I have some friends over there, yeah. Why?”

  “I need a favor before I say for certain.”

  “Okay, ask.”

  “Find out how many prescriptions Drs. Rajiv Laghari and Myron Wexler have written over the last month and what they were for.” He spelled the doctors’ names for Lundquist. “Also, can you see if the Boston PD is working a Joint Narcotics Task Force? If so, are your people involved? When you come back to me with that, we’ll talk. Any progress on the Grimm homicide?”

  “I’m going over to Helton later today to look at some surveillance-camera footage.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  Lundquist was off the line and Jesse went back to reading the file on Maryglenn.

  Sixty-six

  Cole walked into the stationhouse. He hadn’t been there since his first weeks in Paradise. The chip on his shoulder in those days was enormous. His misunderstanding of what had actually happened between Jesse and his mother had eaten at him for years. He had finally come to Paradise to see and take the measure of the man he thought had abandoned him and turned his back on his mother. Jesse was in the final stages of rehab when he came to town and Cole’s frustration at Jesse yet again being absent pushed him over the edge. He had twice been brought into the jail for drunk and disorderly behavior but had never been charged. That was department policy. As Jesse told his cops, he’d seen too many people’s lives ruined by getting fed into the system for no good reason. Cole didn’t know it then, but that policy had saved him. He knew it now.