“Because it’s always when Aaron starts snorting smoke and breathing fire.”
“Gee, I hope he doesn’t burn himself.”
“You better hope he doesn’t burn you.”
It was then that the district attorney opened the door to his office and stepped outside, his eyes meeting Jesse’s.
“You’re right,” Jesse said to Reagan. “He does look like he’s breathing fire.”
“Can the comedy, will you, please, Jesse,” Silver said.
When they were all seated around Silver’s desk, the D.A. said, “I’ve had a call from the head of Amherst Properties, Philip Connell. He wants your ass.”
“I wonder what he wants it for,” Jesse said.
“Enough with the wisecracks,” Silver said. “He’s blaming you for this whole inspection crisis.”
“What inspection crisis?”
Silver glanced at Marty Reagan.
“I told you,” Silver said to Reagan.
Reagan didn’t say anything.
“How is it that three separate municipal entities managed to inspect Golden Horizons all within the same week,” Silver said.
“You’ll have to ask them.”
“Everyone knows you’re behind this, Jesse,” Silver said.
“Look, Aaron,” Jesse said. “These Golden Horizons bozos have engaged in a whole bunch of questionable activities. Enough to call attention to themselves.”
“They were already investigated in Delaware and it was a no-go,” Silver said.
“I know that,” Jesse said. “But that doesn’t deny the facts of what they did. My guess is that the allegations here were reason enough to alert the various municipal department heads to the possibility that the irregularities there were more widespread.”
“Bullshit,” Silver said. “Without your prodding, those guys would never have thought of inspecting the place.”
“Says you.”
“Yes, says me. Your fingerprints are all over this, Jesse.”
“Pure speculation on your part, Aaron. And even if they were, which they’re not, just look at the list of violations. They’re enough to sink a battleship.”
Silver didn’t say anything.
“Fire hazards. Construction instabilities. Rat turds in the food supply. And those are just for openers.”
Silver remained silent.
“Regulations require that reinspections take place one week following the discovery of any violations. I’m presuming that those inspections will occur,” Jesse said.
“And if the violations remain uncorrected,” Silver said.
“We’ll shut them down.”
“And you’ll be expecting me to authorize the shutdown?”
“If it comes to that, yes.”
“And if we do shut them down, then what,” Silver said.
“The residents will have to find other places to live.”
“What exactly is it that you foresee for Golden Horizons?”
“Sayonara,” Jesse said.
“And if they challenge us in the courts?”
“The findings will speak for themselves. They alone will dictate whether or not the facility has to be closed. The rules are clear. If the violations remain uncorrected, then Mr. Connell and his associates will have succeeded in putting themselves out of business. No court is going to argue with that.”
The district attorney sighed deeply.
“What do you think, Marty?”
“Jesse’s got a point, Aaron. Although we know that for him this is personal, the fact that the overall condition of the buildings is so poor does place responsibility for any projected closure directly onto the facility itself.”
No one said anything further for a while. Finally, the district attorney spoke.
“I hate to admit it, Jesse, but this action of yours may have its merits.”
“Let’s not count our chickens just yet, Aaron,” Jesse said. “These are bad people, and you can never predict how bad people will behave.”
“Point made,” Silver said.
“Can I go now?”
“I suppose.”
Jesse stood.
“That went well,” he said to Marty Reagan.
“On your way out,” Silver said, “try not to let the door hit you in the ass.”
En route to Boston, Jesse phoned Martha Becquer.
“Can you remember the exact day that Janet moved out,” he said.
“You mean the date?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember it offhand, but I can find it.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“You mentioned that she had taken up with the wrong kind of people,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Do you know specifically who it was she had taken up with?”
“You mean their names?”
“Yes.”
“No,” she said.
“You’re sure.”
“Yes. How’s it going?”
“Hard to tell. But I may be onto something,” Jesse said.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Not just yet. Be sure to let me know when you find out the date.”
“It’s important?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll look it up straightaway.”
“Let me know.”
• • •
Jesse steered his Explorer onto Beacon Hill, found number seventeen, and parked across the street, directly in front of a fire hydrant. He cracked the windows, turned off the engine, and settled in to surveil Clarice Edgerson’s town house. He unwrapped a corned-beef sandwich that Daisy’s had prepared for him, unscrewed the cap of his Thermos, and poured himself a cup of hot coffee.
He waited.
At exactly two-thirty, a yellow cab stopped in front of number seventeen. A well-dressed man got out, handed some bills to the driver through his window, then walked to the house and rang the doorbell.
After several moments, the door was opened by a middle-aged white-haired black man, formally dressed in a full butler’s uniform, black suit, gold cummerbund, white dress shirt, and black bow tie. He greeted the visitor warmly, shook his hand, smiled and welcomed him in.
Before he closed the door, the butler looked around. He spotted Jesse and stared at him for a moment. Then he went inside and closed the door behind him.
An hour later, the door opened and the well-dressed man stepped out. He looked in both directions, then walked south, toward the Common.
Nothing happened for a while. Then Jesse saw a silver Lexus sedan double-park in front of the town house. A small, conservatively dressed elderly man emerged from the backseat, walked to the house, and rang the bell. The butler opened the door. The man swept past him and went inside. The Lexus drove away.
The butler saw Jesse and again stared at him for several moments. Then he went back inside and closed the door.
Jesse had just poured himself more coffee when he heard a sharp rapping on the front passenger-side window. He looked over and saw a Boston Police Department patrol officer motioning with his nightstick for him to move on.
Jesse lowered the window.
“Move on,” the patrolman said. “You’re illegally parked.”
“May I reach into my pocket, Officer,” Jesse said.
“What for?”
“I’d like to show you my credentials.”
“I don’t care about your credentials. Just move your car.”
“I’m a police officer,” Jesse said. “I’m watching one of the houses on this street.”
The patrolman didn’t say anything.
Jesse reached into his pocket and produced his identification information. He also handed the patrolman his shield.
“You’re from Paradise?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have no jurisdiction here.”
He tossed the ID and the shield onto the passenger seat.
“I’m investigating a homi
cide at the behest of Captain Healy, the state commander,” Jesse said.
“Do you have a letter of authorization?”
“No.”
“Then move it, bub. I’m sure you’re an excellent cop back there in Paradise, but in Boston you have to adhere to our rules and regulations. And currently you aren’t.”
“Why don’t you call Captain Healy’s office. He’ll confirm who I am and why I’m here.”
“No,” the patrolman said.
“No?”
“You’re beginning to get on my nerves, Jack. Either you move away from this here fire hydrant or I’ll call for backup.”
“You don’t believe what I’m telling you?”
“I don’t really give a rat’s ass what you’re telling me. I’m telling you to get the fuck out of here.”
“Is there a reason why you’re being such a lughead,” Jesse said.
“You got about five seconds to start your engine and move.”
Jesse sighed.
“You got a name, Officer,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I have a right to know it.”
“Jim Walsh,” he said.
Jesse started the car.
“Have a nice day, Officer Walsh,” Jesse said.
Then he pulled out and slowly drove away. He dialed Healy’s number.
“What,” Healy said.
“I’m engaged in a stakeout in front of Clarice Edgerson’s house,” Jesse said.
“So?”
“One of Boston’s finest rousted me.”
“Gee, I wish I could have seen that.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I’m guessing that you want me to square with the BPD that it’s okay for you to continue your surveillance?”
“That would be nice,” Jesse said.
“Let me guess again,” Healy said. “You were parked in front of a fire hydrant.”
“Amazing the breadth of knowledge you command.”
“Am I right?”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Did he ticket you?”
“No.”
“He should have.”
“Is it too much to ask if you’re going to do anything about this,” Jesse said.
“I’m thinking,” Healy said.
“Officer’s name is Jim Walsh.”
“He’s there now?”
“I believe so.”
“Drive around the block a couple of times. Let me see what I can do.”
Jesse ended the call. He started to slowly circle the block. He saw Walsh watching him as he drove by. Twice. The third time Jesse passed him, Walsh was talking on his cell phone. The fourth time, he was gone.
Jesse parked in front of the hydrant. He sat quietly for a while. Then his cell phone rang.
“Everything okay now,” Healy said.
“Looks like it.”
“Good. Next time, get an authorization. I’m going to presume that this stakeout might go on for a while.”
“It’s possible.”
“You learn anything yet?”
“Nothing of substance.”
“You’ll let me know?”
“I will.”
“You’re still parked in front of the hydrant?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s pray that the building doesn’t inexplicably burst into flames,” Healy said.
The silver Lexus returned. The door to the town house opened and the little man came out and stepped into the car, which immediately sped away.
Jesse got out of the Explorer. He stretched and looked at the town house. He noticed the butler standing outside, motioning to him. Jesse crossed the street.
“Sir,” the butler said. “Ms. Edgerson was wondering if she might have a word with you.”
He was an elegant man, bald on top but brandishing a shock of white hair that horseshoed around his head. He had white muttonchop sideburns. He wore round, silver-framed eyeglasses behind which his brown eyes gleamed.
He led Jesse into a sitting room that had been carefully restored. The mahogany floors were covered with colorful Egyptian carpets, and African paintings graced the walls. The butler pointed Jesse to a pair of oversized silk-upholstered armchairs.
“Ms. Edgerson will be along shortly,” he said.
“Nice digs,” Jesse said.
“All bought and paid for, too.”
“The wages of sin,” Jesse said.
“Romans six-twenty-three.”
“You know your Bible.”
“It’s what I read. I’m not sure I appreciate that particular quote, however.”
“Because?”
“Because of what it portends.”
“It portends both good and bad. Take your pick.”
“‘For the wages of sin is death.’ What’s the good in that?”
“You get to spend eternity in the company of the Lord.”
“And the bad?”
“You may join him a whole lot sooner than you might like.”
The butler smiled.
“Something to drink,” he said.
“Thanks, no,” Jesse said.
The door opened and Clarice entered, brightening the room with her presence. She wore a colorful silk robe that was tied tightly around her waist. Her auburn hair was wrapped into a chignon.
“This is Mr. Stone, Augustus,” she said to the butler.
To Jesse she said, “Say hello to Augustus Kennerly. We’ve been together for ages.”
“Mr. Kennerly,” Jesse said.
“Sir,” Augustus said.
“Is it time,” Clarice said to Augustus.
“It is,” he said.
She stepped to a small bar that stood in a corner of the sitting room.
“Take a load off, Gus,” she said to Augustus, who nodded and sat in one of the armchairs.
“It’s cocktail time,” Clarice said to Jesse. “Bourbon, rye, vermouth, and bitters. Our very own invention. You’ll join us, of course.”
“I’m on duty,” Jesse said.
“Gus, darlin’,” she said. “What time have you got?”
Augustus looked at his watch.
“Seven-twelve,” he said.
“It’s after seven,” she said to Jesse. “Time for all civilized persons to be off duty.”
Jesse smiled.
“All right,” he said.
“You see,” she said to Augustus. “I told you this man was corruptible.”
She set glasses on the bar.
“Gus and I,” she said. “We’ve been through a lot of years together. A cocktail like this is what we drank back in the day. The cheap whiskeys weren’t as tasty as what we’re drinking now, but they sure did the job.”
She handed the first drink to Jesse. She brought another to Augustus, and with her own in hand, she sat in the armchair across from Jesse.
“To your health,” she said to him.
They raised their glasses and drank.
“I don’t much care for you surveilling me,” Clarice said.
“I was looking for an opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
“The one that I’m now taking advantage of.”
“I sure wish I could easily understand you, Mr. Stone.”
“My investigation has left me with dozens of questions, none of them answered.”
“So you planted yourself outside my house looking for those answers?”
“Something like that.”
“You certainly are a vexing person,” she said. “You and your unanswered questions.”
“I believe you had something in common with the dead girl.”
“And that would be?”
“Thomas Walker.”
“Thomas?”
“Thomas and Janet Becquer had been frequently seen together.”
Clarice didn’t say anything.
“On several occasions during the month of April.”
“By whom?”
“
Credible people,” he said.
Clarice looked at Augustus, who returned her gaze.
“Can you think of a reason why they might have been together,” Jesse said.
“Probably something related to the business proposal we discussed with her.”
“I thought she rejected that.”
“What I said was, we never heard from her again.”
“So you didn’t know about her and Thomas?”
“That would be none of your business, Mr. Stone.”
“Ms. Becquer was also spotted with Fat Boy Nelly.”
Clarice didn’t say anything. Again, she exchanged a glance with Augustus.
“Could it be that the two men were vying for her attentions,” Jesse said.
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said. “What I do know, however, is that this part of our conversation has ended.”
They sat quietly for a while.
“How do you like your drink?”
“Do you think there’s enough bourbon in it,” Jesse said.
“Too strong for you, is it?”
“Am I slurring my words yet?”
“Back then we used to drink these babies all night long, didn’t we, Gus?”
Augustus nodded.
“How long ago was back then?”
“Are you inquiring into my past, Mr. Stone?”
“Jesse.”
“Are you, Jesse?”
“If you’re of a mind to talk about it.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because you brought it up. And because curiosity killed the cat.”
She smiled.
“Curiosity, eh,” she said.
She took another sip of her drink. She looked at Augustus.
“This drink seems to have loosened my tongue,” she said to him.
Then to Jesse she said, “I suppose I might be willing to give you the short version if you really care to hear it.”
“Any version would be good,” Jesse said.
“All right,” she said. “But just remember, it was you who asked for it.”
She took a long pull on her drink.
Then she said, “City of birth: Newark, New Jersey. Formal education: Barringer High School. Junior year was my last. Real education: Miss Lillian Arbogast. My word, Gus, we haven’t talked about Miss Lillian in ages.”
Augustus nodded.
“Lillian Arbogast,” she said. “Back in the nineties, you see, Newark was very much a city in decline. The gangs ruled. Legitimate businesses had fled to the suburbs. Drugs and whores were Newark’s main commerce. Ms. Lillian ran a reputable house there. I went to work for her.”
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