The Jesse Stone Novels 6-9

by Robert B. Parker

  “You wouldn’t,” Jesse said.

  The woman who had cleared her throat cleared it again and then said, “No.”

  “Okay,” Jesse said. “Officer Crane is going to hand out some index cards and pencils. I’d like each of you to list the name of any man with whom you’ve had experience who has watched and nothing else.”

  “You think this guy is in our group?” one of the women asked.

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  “Who do you think he is?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Why do you think so,” the woman said. “Because we are a little unconventional, maybe?”

  She was a big dark-haired woman with a long braid in her hair.

  “We have some evidence,” Jesse said.

  “What do you think of what we do,” the woman with the braid said to Jesse.

  “I think it’s legal,” Jesse said.

  “Would you do it?” the woman said.

  Jesse was quiet, thinking about it.

  “No,” he said after a moment. “Probably not.”

  “What a waste,” the woman with the hoarse voice said.

  All the women laughed, including Molly.

  “Do we have to sign the card?” a woman asked.

  “No,” Jesse said. “And if there is no one in your experience, just don’t write on the card.”

  Molly handed out cards and pencils.

  A woman wearing large tinted glasses raised her hand.

  “I have a question,” she said.

  Jesse nodded at her.

  “Can we keep the pencil afterward?” she said.

  The women giggled. Jesse laughed.

  “Sure,” he said. “Swap them around if you’d like.”

  The women giggled again, and most of them wrote on their cards.

  “If there’s anyone who took pictures,” Jesse said, “without, ah, engaging, I’d like to know that man’s name, too.”

  “No picture taking,” the woman with the pigtail said.

  “Covert is always possible,” Jesse said.

  Several women shrugged. No one looked convinced. When they were through writing, Molly walked along the semicircle, picking up the cards. She gave them to Jesse, who slipped them into the side pocket of his coat.

  “Anyone have anything else?” he said.

  From her seat at the far end of the semicircle, Hannah Wechsler said, “I think this is a witch hunt.”

  Several of the women looked at her, but none of them spoke. Jesse nodded.

  “Anybody else?” he said.

  “Are you and Officer Crane going to attend our next meeting?” the woman with the big glasses said.

  “Only if somebody calls the cops,” Jesse said.

  “We’ll keep that in mind,” the woman said.

  65

  HANNAH WECHSLER walked into Jesse’s office and sat down in a chair. Molly appeared behind her in the doorway and raised her eyebrows. Jesse shook his head faintly.

  “You bastard,” she said. “You think my husband is the Night Hawk.”

  “I do,” Jesse said.

  “I knew you’d find a way to use the Free Swingers against us,” she said. “A cop is a cop is a cop.”

  Jesse said, “I need to ask you an impertinent question.”

  “You are nothing,” she said, “if not impertinent.”

  “It’s a question that needs an answer,” Jesse said. “How long has it been since you had sex with your husband.”

  “Jesus, you are out of control,” she said.

  “How long?” Jesse said.

  “None of your goddamned business,” she said.

  “Actually, it is,” Jesse said.

  He took the Night Hawk’s last letter from his drawer and gave it to her.

  “What’s this?” she said.

  “Read,” Jesse said.

  Hannah read the letter carefully, as if Jesse might be trying to trick her. As she finished, her face began to redden. But she clamped her jaw and read it again carefully. When she was done she placed the letter on Jesse’s desk, and sat back. The letter lay on the desk at an angle. She leaned forward and carefully squared it to the edge of the desk. She stared at Jesse.

  “I got seven names from the swinger women yesterday, of men that watched but didn’t touch,” Jesse said.

  Hannah continued to stare at him.

  “All seven names were Seth Ralston,” Jesse said.

  She continued to stare. Her mouth was a thin, straight line on her red face.

  “I had Molly call every woman that was at the meeting, except you,” Jesse said, “and ask each of them if Seth Ralston had ever touched them. All of them said no.”

  Her shoulders hunched and her neck seemed to get thinner.

  “You have sex with your husband,” Jesse said, “in the last three years?”

  Hannah suddenly made a low, harsh screaming sound and doubled over in her chair, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. As she rocked, the scream changed to a steady keening sound. Molly appeared in the doorway. Jesse put up his hand and nodded that she should stay there. The keening and rocking continued. Molly came in and sat down in the chair next to Hannah and put her arm around Hannah’s shoulders. Hannah turned awkwardly toward her and pressed her face against Molly’s shoulder. Molly patted her hair. Hannah moaned. Jesse sat silently behind his desk with his arms folded. It took a while, but eventually she got herself under control and sat up. Jesse pushed a box of Kleenex across the desk. She took one and blew her nose, and another and wiped her eyes. Jesse held out the wastebasket, and she discarded the used Kleenex. She took a fresh one from the box and held it, apparently in reserve. She breathed as if she’d been running a long way.

  Finally, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I am, too,” Jesse said. “Have you not had sex with your husband for three years?”

  “At least,” she said. “And before that, it was no good.”

  She looked at Molly.

  “I had to work so hard just to . . . get him ready.”

  Molly nodded.

  “All he wanted to do was look and take pictures,” she said. “I’ll bet there’s five hundred nude pictures of me in his computer.”

  Jesse nodded.

  “That’s why we joined swingers. I’d get sex out of it. I didn’t want to cheat on my marriage. But I like sex. I need it. And he got something out of it without cheating on his marriage.”

  Jesse nodded again.

  “And it didn’t occur to you that he might be the Night Hawk?” Jesse said.

  She shook her head.

  “The closest I got,” she said, “was to think, Wow, here’s a guy with the same hang-ups Seth has. But then I’d think, Good, Seth has the swingers.”

  “Hard, anyway, to think your husband would do such a thing,” Molly said.

  “But he did,” Hannah said. “He did, he did, he did.”

  “It was you who told him we were going to have a meeting,” Jesse said.

  “Yes,” Hannah said. “He calls me on his cell phone now and then. It’s awkward. I’m straining for conversation.”

  “Did you tell him about having the meeting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you tell him about our conversation?” Jesse said.

  “No,” she said. “The disgusting little pervert. How could he do this to me. I’ve tried, Jesus, I’ve tried. I wanted so much for this to work.”

  “You love him?” Molly said.

  “Half his female grad students were in love with him,” Hannah said. “Literary, masculine, adventurous. They thought he was Hemingway. And he cultivated it. Safari jackets, aviator glasses. He even used to have a beard.”

  “And you were the one that got him.”

  “Lucky me,” Hannah said.

  “Do me a favor,” Jesse said. “Next time he calls, tell him about this conversation. I want him to know that you know, and I know.”

  “I can’t talk to him anymore,” she said. “He ma
kes me want to vomit.”

  “It’ll help us finish this,” Jesse said. “He hasn’t hurt anybody yet, but he might. And he might miscalculate and get caught and somebody’s husband will kill him.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “After what he’s done to me? Fuck him.”

  “Care about the women he may traumatize, care about the husband who might kill him and have to live with that for the rest of his life.”

  She looked at Jesse for a while as if he puzzled her.

  Then she said, “I hadn’t thought of it from that angle.”

  “Tell him enough so he knows we know,” Jesse said.

  Hannah nodded.

  “How the hell am I going to write my dissertation?” she said.

  66

  “MY MOM said I should write you some kind of thank-you note,” Missy Clark said when she came into Jesse’s office. “But I said to myself, No, that sucks. I don’t even know what to say. So I came to see you.”

  “Good,” Jesse said, and gestured at a chair.

  “I was right about you,” she said. “You’re nice.”

  “I am,” Jesse said.

  “When I saw you at the school, I thought, He’s a nice man.”

  Jesse smiled.

  “And you were right,” Jesse said.

  “Well,” Missy said. “And don’t you know it.”

  “I do,” Jesse said.

  “My mom and dad are getting a divorce,” Missy said.

  Jesse nodded.

  “No more wife-swapping, “Missy said. “My mom promised.”

  “How’s your brother?” Jesse said.

  “He’s all screwed up, but my mom says he’ll get over it.”

  Jesse nodded.

  “And you?” he said.

  “I’m okay,” Missy said. “As long as my dad stays the hell away from us.”

  “He will,” Jesse said.

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “Come and tell me,” Jesse said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Because?” Jesse said.

  “You are the chief of police,” Missy said.

  “Exactly,” Jesse said.

  “I heard Mrs. Ingersoll isn’t going to be principal anymore,” Missy said.

  “I think she’s taken a leave of absence,” Jesse said.

  “And I heard she was getting divorced,” Missy said.

  “I heard that, too,” Jesse said.

  “Did somebody really take her picture with her clothes off?”

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  “Was it the Night Hawk?”

  “Confidential police information,” Jesse said.

  “Oh, shit,” she said.

  “Who am I?” Jesse said.

  “I know,” Missy said. “I know, the chief of police.”

  Jesse inclined his head.

  “But I like you anyway,” Missy said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Why would anybody want a picture of Old Lady Ingersoll undressed?” Missy said.

  “Different people need different things,” Jesse said.

  “I bet she looks icky,” Missy said, “anyway.”

  Jesse made no comment.

  “Would you want to see her undressed?” Missy said.

  “I don’t think she’s unattractive,” Jesse said.

  “But would you want to see her?”

  Jesse smiled.

  “I just serve and protect,” Jesse said. “I don’t have likes or dislikes.”

  “You like my dad?” Missy said.

  Jesse smiled again.

  “No,” he said.

  “See,” she said.

  “You like him?” Jesse said.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I guess I should, you know, he’s my dad. You’re supposed to love your dad.”

  “There’s no right or wrong to it,” Jesse said. “You have no control over who he is. But you have the right to control how you feel about him.”

  She nodded.

  “If I don’t love him, I don’t love him,” Missy said.

  “It might be more complicated than that,” Jesse said. “But for now, it is what it is, and it’s not your fault.”

  She nodded. They both sat for a moment without speaking.

  Then Missy said, “Well, I just wanted to thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  She stood and went to the door and stopped and looked at him. Jesse waited.

  “I’m a little scared,” she said. “I mean, my dad’s gone. My mom says she’s gonna be different. My little brother is weird. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “I’m here,” Jesse said. “Come see me anytime.”

  She nodded and looked as if she wanted to say more. But she didn’t. She just smiled at him and left.

  67

  Jesse, you nosy bastard!

  Proud of yourself? Because you think you know who I am? Nobody really knows who I am. Maybe not even I know who I am. Am I me? Or am I Mr. O? Or am I two people at the same time? Can you figure that one out, Jesse? You may have to. You had no business telling my wife about me. She told me you showed her my letter. She said she never wanted to speak with me again. I guess it can get lonely at the top, huh, Jesse? Or the people in the swingers’ group. They’ll gossip among themselves. They’ll compare notes. They’ll figure out who I am, and then it will be all over town. And my life is ruined. I’ll get fired from my job. I won’t be able to get another one anywhere. Academia is a closed club. The Mr. O rap will follow me everywhere I go. What I have to do, I know, is leave town and take Mr. O with me, and start over. I’ll change my name. Maybe I’ll be a professional hunter, or take people into the Grand Canyon on muleback. You know who I am, but you can’t find me and I’m about to disappear. Better move fast. I’ll give you a little help. Before I go I’m going to uncover one more secret, photograph it, and send you a copy. My farewell card, so to speak. You might be surprised when you find out who it is. Here’s a hint. She’s someone you’re close to!!! So stay alert, my friend. It’s your last chance. . . . And like they used to say in the movies, I WON’T BE TAKEN ALIVE!

  The Night Hawk

  68

  JESSE SAT in his office with Molly and Suit. The door was closed.

  “We got anything on where Seth Ralston is?” Jesse said.

  “Haven’t found him. Haven’t located his car. Moll says he used an ATM in the Bay State Mall to withdraw five hundred dollars, and another one in a hotel lobby in Cambridge, to take out another five hundred dollars.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” Suit said.

  “A mall on the highway, and a hotel lobby in Cambridge,” Jesse said.

  “That tell you anything?” Suit said.

  “Only that he’s got a car.”

  “Which we already knew,” Suit said.

  “You got his plate numbers on the wire,” Jesse said.

  “You bet,” Suit said.

  “Moll?” Jesse said. “Anything to add?”

  “Nope. No credit-card activity. No bank activity except the two ATMs. No other withdrawals, no checks written,” Molly said.

  “I thought he’d be easier to find,” Jesse said.

  “He seems to have given it some thought,” Molly said.

  “Smart guy,” Suit said.

  “For a professor,” Jesse said.

  He handed out photocopies of the last letter from the Night Hawk.

  “God,” Suit said. “The poor sonovabitch is crazy, isn’t he.”

  “You figured out who this person close to you is?” Molly said. “Does he know about Jenn?”

  “I don’t know how he would,” Jesse said. “And even if he did, how would he know where she is. Hell, I don’t know where she is.”

  “You been seeing Sunny Randall again,” Suit said.

  “Couple of times,” Jesse said, “at the Gray Gull. He’d have to have seen us there, ID’ed her, find out where she lives. Seems like a l
ong shot to me.”

  “Yes,” Molly said. “To me, too.”

  “How about Mrs. Ingersoll?” Suit said. “He’s probably mad at her, anyway, for saying he did something he didn’t do.”

  “Possible,” Jesse said.

  “Marcy Campbell is an even longer shot than Sunny Randall,” Molly said.

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  “You have a thought?” Molly said.

  “I have a theory,” Jesse said. “If you were Seth the Night Hawk, and you didn’t know anything much about me except that I was chief of police, and you began to sort of watch me, ask around about me, that sort of thing. What woman would be most frequently and closely associated with me?”

  “It can’t be Rita Fiore,” Suit said.

  Jesse shook his head.

  He sat quietly while Molly and Suit thought about it. They didn’t think of anyone.

  “It doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic relationship,” Jesse said. “What woman do I simply spend the most time with?”

  “Me,” Molly said.

  Suit turned to look at her, then back at Jesse.

  “Molly?”

  “That would be my theory,” Jesse said.

  “I think so,” Molly said.

  Unconsciously, Suit’s hand rested lightly on his gun butt.

  “You think he would actually take a run at Molly?” Suit said.

  “She’s often with me. She’s a woman. She has a secret.”

  “And a damn good-looking one,” Molly said.

  Suit flinched.

  “Jesus, Moll,” he said.

  She smiled at him.

  “We won’t let it happen,” Jesse said, more for Suit than for Molly.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Suit said. “Anytime she’s not in the office with you, I’ll be right there.”

  Molly was shaking her head.

  “I appreciate your concern, but you guys aren’t thinking about it right,” she said.

  “What’s the right way?” Jesse said.

  “We want this to happen, it’s our shot at this creep, maybe, if we believe him, our last one.”

  “You want to be bait,” Jesse said.

  “No,” Suit said.

  “Yes,” Molly said. “I’m a cop. I’m not the girl who makes coffee and pats down the female perps. I’m a cop. I have a gun, and Mace. I know something about self-defense. And I’m pretty sure I’d have backup.”