“What do you mean?”
“Thomas know I be lookin’ to get even for what he done to Janet. So he be making hisself real scarce. He ain’t showin’ his ass around town so much nowadays. See, he’s real concerned about me. But since he producin’ so much noise about offing you, I figure he’s gone and backed his ass into some kind of corner. Now he has to show hisself. Soon, too. He has to make his move.”
“He has to kill me.”
“Yeah. If he don’t, then he gonna lose face.”
“To whom?”
“To those who count in Walker world.”
“Gino Fish.”
“And his associates.”
“So why would he go around making the threat?”
“’Cause he stupid, that’s why.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“See, Thomas never had no challenge to his position before,” Nelly said. “Now he do.”
“You?”
“Fuckin’ A, me.”
“So he’s got no choice.”
“That’s right. And if I be watchin’ your back, then I be right there when he make his move. Two birds, if you get my drift.”
“Two birds?”
“Oh, yeah. I take Thomas down same time I save your ass. Pretty neat, huh.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I be like the invisible man.”
“What if I say no,” Jesse said.
“You can’t stop what you can’t see.”
“Meaning?”
“You won’t even know I be there till Thomas make his move. Not till the very moment when it counts.”
Neither of them spoke for a while.
“Ironic,” Jesse said.
“Yeah. Ironic. I like that. What’s ironic is me watchin’ out for some cop. Some police chief, no less. Ha! Make for a great story to tell in my old age.”
“Optimistic, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. I been keepin’ my eye on Mr. Thomas Walker for some time now. Watchin’ how he operate. Conceit. You know conceit?”
“I do,” Jesse said.
“Conceit what gonna kill that motherfucker.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Conceit and a Glock nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol,” Nelly said.
I know who did it,” Jesse said.
He was sitting in Captain Healy’s office, in front of his desk, a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hands.
“Who,” Healy said.
“Thomas Walker,” Jesse said.
“You think Thomas Walker killed her?”
“I know he did.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Not without Fat Boy Nelly’s testimony.”
“You got as much chance of getting that as a snowball does in hell.”
“Poetic,” Jesse said.
“Truthful,” Healy said.
“I want to pick him up.”
“On a murder charge? With no proof? Listen to me, Jesse. Nelly will never appear. And even if he did, it would be a case of he said, she said. The D.A. won’t touch this with a ten-foot pole.”
“But he did it.”
“I believe you. Find me some evidence.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“You don’t have enough yet,” Healy said.
“Okay. Okay,” Jesse said.
He stood.
“He’s a slippery bastard,” Healy said.
“But catchable.”
“No one’s caught him yet.”
“There’s always a first time,” Jesse said.
“If you say so,” Healy said.
Jesse parked across the street from Clarice Edgerson’s house, in front of the hydrant. It was nearly eleven a.m. After several moments, he got out of the car, crossed the street, and rang the bell.
Clarice opened the door herself. She stared at Jesse for a long moment. Then she stepped aside and allowed him in. She was wearing a faded pink housecoat over creamy silk pajamas.
“What now,” she said.
“He killed her,” Jesse said.
She stared at him. Then she led him into the sitting room. She indicated the overstuffed sofa, covered in red Italian silk. He sat. She sat across from him.
“I guess I’m not surprised,” she said.
“And he’s telling people that I’m next.”
“He believes he’s at his best when he’s bragging about how dangerous he is.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Jesse said.
“You don’t think he can kill you.”
“No, ma’am. I don’t.”
“But he still has to try.”
Jesse shrugged.
“It’s not likely he’ll succeed,” he said.
Clarice didn’t say anything.
“Will you be all right,” Jesse said.
“You mean if he doesn’t survive the attempt?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“I’m here because Mr. Walker appears to be preparing to self-destruct and the aftermath might have an impact on you.”
“Why should that concern you?”
“If anything were to happen to Thomas, I wanted to make certain you’d be okay.”
“I’ll be okay,” she said.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
“I know this is none of my business,” Jesse said.
“But you came just the same.”
“I did.”
“To express your concern.”
“Yes.”
“People don’t generally behave in that manner with me.”
“That’s because you’re very imposing.”
“You think that’s why?”
“The top job is the loneliest. People are always afraid of the boss.”
“Miss Lillian used to say the same thing. She always told me to trust no one.”
“What will you do?”
“Here I go runnin’ my mouth again,” she said. “What is it about you?”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Gus and me, we been together a long time. We always figured there’d come a day when we’d just pick ourselves up and vanish. We prepared for that day. We bought a sweet piece of property in a place where no one knows us. Where we can just be Gus and Annie. Where we can spend the rest of our time enjoying the fruits of our labor. Real quiet like. Anonymously. You have no need to worry about us.”
Jesse stood.
“I wish you both well,” he said.
“I know you do, Jesse,” she said. “And don’t be thinking that I don’t appreciate it.”
Jesse and Suitcase were leaning against the Explorer, watching as Benedict Morrow and his staff escorted a number of Golden Horizons residents and their possessions to waiting vehicles.
They were just about to leave when Morrow, accompanied by Chuck Dempsey, approached them.
“Stone,” Morrow said.
Jesse nodded.
“I want you to know that you’ve cost me my job,” Morrow said.
“Heavens,” Jesse said.
“You and your team of cronies.”
“Cronies.”
“That’s right. There was no reason for them to inspect us like that, much less close us down.”
“You’re dead wrong about that, Binky. You should have been closed down for mistreating your patients, but you and your team of cronies managed to slime out of that one.”
Jesse noticed that a handful of attendants had come outside and were standing around, watching.
“We’ve got a bone to pick with you, Stone,” Morrow said.
Three of the attendants took a few steps closer to Jesse and Suitcase.
“You aren’t threatening me, are you, Binky,” Jesse said.
“We want to show our appreciation for all that you did for us,” Morrow said. “Don’t we, boys.”
Jesse looked at Morrow and his goons.
“If I were you, I’d step away and leave it,�
� Jesse said to them.
“But you’re not us,” Morrow said.
“I guess there’s a positive in everything,” Jesse said.
He turned to Suitcase and said, “Suit, may I please borrow your nightstick?”
“You sure may,” Suitcase said.
He removed the truncheon from his service belt and tossed it lightly to Jesse, who caught it and, in one swift motion, stepped in front of Binky Morrow, extended his arm, and rammed the nightstick directly into his midsection, knocking the wind from him and likely breaking a couple of his ribs at the same time. Morrow’s eyes widened in disbelief, then he fell to the ground, gasping for breath.
One of the attendants charged. He lowered his head and ran directly at Jesse. As though he were fighting a bull, Jesse sidestepped the charging man, and as he swept past him, Jesse slammed the nightstick into his back. The attendant screamed and dropped as though he’d been shot.
“Have you something you’d like to add to this, Chuckie,” Jesse said to Chuck Dempsey.
“I’d like to see how tough you are without that nightstick in your hand,” Dempsey said.
“I’d be delighted to show you,” Jesse said.
He tossed the truncheon back to Suitcase. Dempsey glared at him and assumed a boxer’s stance. He went into a crouch and danced toward Jesse on the balls of his feet, his fists held high.
“You’re sure you don’t want to rethink this,” Jesse said.
Dempsey flicked a left jab aimed at Jesse’s chin. It missed. He followed his left with a right cross that succeeded only in stirring the air. Once Dempsey had committed to the right cross, Jesse took the opportunity to step inside it and land two solid blows to Dempsey’s midsection. Dempsey grunted and backed away.
Jesse pursued him and launched another right to Dempsey’s stomach that connected heavily and caused him to wobble unsteadily. He attempted to recover. He backed away from Jesse, who was now stalking him.
Breathing hard, Dempsey weakly flicked another jab that landed harmlessly. Still backing away, flatfooted and shaken, he gathered in his elbows and put his fists in front of his face, so as to ward off anything else Jesse might throw at him.
Jesse followed with a volley of punches aimed at Dempsey’s kidneys. Each of them connected. Each of them hurt. Dempsey became infuriated. He launched a hard right that Jesse deflected with his left forearm.
Then Jesse hammered his right hand into Dempsey’s midsection, staggering him. He doubled over in pain and dropped his guard. He struggled for breath. His arms hung listlessly at his sides.
Seeing the opening, Jesse put his entire body into a hard right to Dempsey’s jaw. The sound of the jaw fracturing was like a shotgun blast. It filled the air with the horrifying certainty that the victim would not only be facing immeasurable suffering, but also the likelihood that the ruined bone would never be properly functional again.
Dempsey’s legs began to wobble comically. He stared at Jesse for a moment, then his eyes glazed over and he collapsed.
Jesse looked around at the other attendants who had been watching.
“Anyone else,” he said.
No one made a move.
“Your associates here will be needing some medical attention,” Jesse said.
No one said anything. No one moved.
“Best if it were sooner rather than later.”
Still no one moved. Jesse shrugged. Then he looked at Suitcase and tossed him the car keys.
“You drive,” he said.
They got into the Explorer and drove off.
“Why did you throw me the keys,” Suitcase said.
“I may have busted my hand.”
“Really?”
“Hurts like a son of a bitch.”
“It was a great punch,” Suitcase said.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t know you could box.”
“I don’t box. I fight.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Rules.”
“You want to do something about your hand?”
“Nah,” Jesse said.
“You sure?”
“I’ll soak it in some ice water. That should do it.”
“It was a great punch,” Suitcase said.
“It was, wasn’t it,” Jesse said.
“What’ll happen to them?”
“Eventually they’ll grow old and die.”
“Come on, Jesse. You know what I mean.”
“They’ll get other jobs in the same industry. Possibly even with Amherst.”
“How will they do that?”
“There are plenty of places that don’t respect the patients’ bill of rights. Places that are in it only for the money. These guys are just the kind of unscrupulous employees that owners like Philip Connell are on the lookout for.”
“So they’ll do it again?”
“They will.”
“And they’ll get away with it again.”
“Most likely.”
Suitcase didn’t say anything.
“But they won’t do it here,” Jesse said.
Jesse was in his living room. The TV was tuned to the old-movie channel and his right hand was submerged in a bowl of ice water.
Mildred Memory was sitting on the other chair, keeping her distance from the water, eyeing him suspiciously.
He had already taken a Vicodin, and the pain had diminished. The ice water would help with the swelling. He had difficulty concentrating on the movie, which, coincidentally, was Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull. It served only to remind him that he shouldn’t have thrown the punch with such abandon.
He muted the TV and sat back in his chair. His hand was nearly frozen, and he had begun to think about taking it out of the water. He had also begun to consider a scotch, but having already downed the Vicodin, he thought better of it.
He removed his hand from the ice water and wrapped it in a towel. He brought the bowl to the sink and emptied it. Mildred Memory was still sitting on the arm of her chair, eyeing him.
“What are you looking at,” he said to her.
She didn’t respond.
He turned off the living room lights and shut down the TV. He went back to the kitchen and loaded a glass with ice. He looked longingly at the bottle of Johnny Walker Black that sat so invitingly on the shelf. He sighed. Then he opened the tap and filled the glass with water. He turned off the kitchen lights and went upstairs.
He stripped to his T-shirt and shorts, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and got into bed. He turned off the bedside lamp, and after his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he fixated on the slits of moonlight that poured across his bed through the partially open venetian blinds.
He closed his eyes and surrendered anew to the effects of the Vicodin. The pain in his hand was now a dull throb. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids were too heavy. He began to drift in and out of sleep.
Sometime during the night, he became aware of Mildred jumping onto the bed and insinuating herself beside him, forcing him to change his position.
Other than that, he slept the sleep of the dead.
Jesse left the station and headed for the Paradise Mall, which was a smaller incarnation of the larger malls in bigger cities. Although it boasted a handful of national chain stores, it also housed a goodly number of local merchants as well. Jesse entered through the west gate.
He suddenly had the sense that he was being followed. When he looked behind him, feigning interest in the rear end of the good-looking woman who had just walked past, he spotted a familiar face.
He had to think for a moment whose face it was. Then it hit him. The man behind him was one of those he had seen guarding Thomas Walker at Reilly’s Fish and Chips.
Suddenly Jesse wheeled and faced the startled bodyguard. He grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it behind his back. He then walked the man quickly to one of the service doors and hustled him through it and into a narrow hallway that led to an emergency exit. The bodyguard wrested himself fro
m Jesse’s grasp and made a move toward him.
Jesse took the nightstick from his service belt and slammed it into the bodyguard’s windpipe, forcing him to gasp for breath and reel backward. The pressure on his windpipe caused an interruption of the flow of oxygen to the man’s brain. The bodyguard blacked out and fell to the ground.
Jesse was on him in a second. He turned the fallen man onto his stomach and wrenched his arms behind him. He secured them with a plastic restraint. He did the same with the man’s feet. He leaned the bodyguard against the wall and left him there.
Jesse stepped back into the mall, in time to see Fat Boy Nelly hurrying by. Nelly saw him and winked.
He grabbed his cell phone and called Molly. He requested immediate backup. He reached for his Colt, releasing the safety as he took hold of it. With the gun at his side and his finger on the trigger guard, he began searching for Thomas Walker.
He spotted Nelly on the far side of the walkway, his beefy arms wrapped around the neck of a man whom Jesse recognized as another of Thomas Walker’s bodyguards. The man was unconscious. Nelly had his arm around the man, as if he were tending to someone who’d had too much to drink, and was walking him to another of the mall’s service doors. Jesse watched as Nelly pulled the man through it.
The mall foot traffic was oblivious to the goings-on involving the two bodyguards. No one appeared to have noticed anything.
Jesse moved stealthily. His backup had yet to arrive. He peered into several stores. His eyes scanned the crowd. Then he entered the food court, which was crowded with shoppers.
He positioned himself at one of the two main entranceways, which provided him an excellent vantage point. He leaned against a wall, searching the crowd for a glimpse of Thomas Walker, his pistol held surreptitiously at his side.
Then he spotted Walker moving swiftly in his direction. Clarice was with him. They were in the center of the food court. Walker was holding her firmly by the arm, keeping her directly in front of him as if she were a shield. His Smith & Wesson Sigma was jammed into her side.
As they awkwardly inched their way through the crowd, a handful of people became aware of them.
One man yelled, “He’s got a gun.”
A woman screamed.
Suddenly everyone was on the move. Chairs scraped loudly and tables were overturned as people began to anxiously respond. There were shouts of panic. The crowd began a confused surge toward the exits.
Robert B. Parker's Damned if You Do Page 13