“And you sometimes drink too much,” Ognowski said.
“I do,” Jesse said.
“Reggie Galen is a criminal,” Ognowski said. “The dead one, Knocko, him, too.”
“I know,” Jesse said.
“I know a lot about criminal,” Ognowski said.
“I guessed that,” Jesse said.
“My Petey work for Galen. So when he die, I ask around. I learn that Galen and Knocko in business together. I learn about a man named Bangston they in business with, and that they marry Bangston’s daughters.”
“Pretty good,” Jesse said.
“People say Bangston daughters will fuck anybody.”
“The Bang Bang Twins,” Jesse said.
“What is Bang Bang?” Ognowski said.
“Slang for fucking,” Jesse said.
Ognowski nodded.
“Somebody like Bang Bang,” Ognowski said, “my Petey is ready.”
“You think Petey was having sex with them?”
“Both?” Ognowski said. “I had not thought both. You think both?”
“Maybe,” Jesse said. “That was their style. One or the other. You can’t tell them apart, went to motels often.”
“So she, they, Bang Bang their husband, no reason for motel.”
“None,” Jesse said.
“Bang Bang somebody else.”
“Seems likely,” Jesse said.
“You know all this I tell you?”
“Yes,” Jesse said.
“And you do nothing?”
“Who killed Petey?” Jesse said.
Ognowski stared at Jesse for a moment. Then he nodded slowly.
“We do not know yet,” Ognowski said.
“True,” Jesse said.
“You have to know,” Ognowski said.
“I do,” Jesse said.
“But I do not. Maybe make them all . . .”
He put his fist out and opened it as if releasing a butterfly.
“Maybe none of them did it,” Jesse said.
Ognowski shrugged.
“Maybe Knocko did it.”
Ognowski shrugged again.
“Maybe Galen snuffed Knocko for killing Petey.”
Ognowski sat silently for a moment, looking past Jesse at nothing.
Then he said, “I love my son. I get revenge, it won’t bring him back, but I feel better.”
Jesse nodded.
“He was my only son. When he learn what he need to learn working for other people, doing what he did, he will someday replace me.”
“And now he won’t,” Jesse said.
“No,” Ognowski said.
He paused and looked up at the ceiling, as if composing his next sentence.
Then he said, “Many places in this world, people know Nicolas Ognowski, and they do what he says because they fear him.”
“And it’s bad for business,” Jesse said, “for anyone to kill Nicolas Ognowski’s son and get away with it.”
Ognowski nodded.
“That is the truth of it,” he said.
“If anything happens to Galen or the two women,” Jesse said, “I’ll come looking for you.”
“You will not find me,” Ognowski said.
“How about they didn’t do it and I catch the real killer later? How’s that for business?”
“Could be better, but not so bad,” Ognowski said. “At least there is blood for blood.”
“Even if it’s the wrong blood?” Jesse said.
“I can always return,” Ognowski said.
“Next time would be harder,” Jesse said.
“Might be,” Ognowski said. “Does not mean it wouldn’t happen.”
“It might make more sense to give it a little time. Maybe between us we can come up with something.”
“What?”
“No idea,” Jesse said. “But the two of us ought to be able to come up with something.”
Ognowski looked at Jesse for a time in silence.
“Give it a little while,” Jesse said.
Ognowski kept looking at Jesse. Finally he stood and walked out of the office without saying anything else.
45
SHE HAD WATCHED him for two weeks, and almost every night he came here, to the Gray Gull, and sat at the bar. He drank bourbon on the rocks, and often left with a woman. Never the same woman. He was a big man and handsome. He had big muscles and, she noticed, he always wore short-sleeved shirts that displayed them. She sipped her vodka and tonic. It was a Friday night and the bar was crowded. But she had time. And she was patient. She waited, and finally when a seat opened at the bar next to him she went down the bar and took it. He glanced at her and then swung around on his bar stool to face her.
“I haven’t seen you before,” he said.
“I come sometimes,” she said.
“By yourself?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Vodka tonic?” he said.
“Yes.”
He gestured to one of the bartenders and ordered.
“You from around here?” he said.
“No.”
“Where you from?”
“Brooklyn,” she said.
“Brooklyn, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus,” he said. “You don’t talk much.”
She smiled.
“Many men like that,” she said.
He nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “How come you’re up here from Brooklyn?”
“My husband had work here.”
“Husband?”
“Yes. No more.”
“You’re not married anymore?”
“No,” she said.
The drinks came. He stirred the ice around in his drink with his forefinger before he picked it up.
“Looking for a new husband?” he said.
“No,” she said.
“What are you looking for?” he said.
“I like men,” she said.
He grinned and raised his glass to her.
“I’m one,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, and looked at him. “Big muscles.”
He nodded.
“I try to stay in shape,” he said.
“You work?”
“Sure,” he said. “Whaddya think? I do private security for a guy lives on the Neck.”
“You violent?” she said.
“Let’s just say I don’t look for trouble,” he said. “But if someone else is looking for trouble, I’m happy to supply it.”
She nodded.
“That excites me,” she said.
“It does, huh?” he said. “Wanna go someplace, see what else we can think of that’s exciting?”
“I have a place,” she said.
“Excellent,” he said.
“I will go into the ladies’ room for a moment,” she said. “Then we go to my place.”
“You bet,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Natalya,” she said. “You?”
“Normie.”
46
THE SECURITY at the gate of the late Knocko Moynihan was just like the security at Reggie Galen’s gate. But Jesse had called in advance, and the guard waved him through.
Robbie Moynihan opened the door, wearing black slingback heels and a short black linen sundress.
“Chief Stone,” she said.
“Mrs. Moynihan,” Jesse said.
“Oh, fah!” she said. “I’ve told you and told you, call me Robbie.”
“Sure,” Jesse said.
He followed her toward the living room.
“Say it,” Robbie said.
“Robbie,” Jesse said.
“Very good,” she said.
She gestured for him to sit in a chair.
“Sit,” she said.
“Can you say Jesse?” he said.
She smiled.
“Sit, Jesse,” she said. “Jesse, Jesse, Jesse
!”
“Okay, Robbie, I guess we are pals.”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Would you like coffee? Or a drink?”
“Late for coffee,” Jesse said. “Early for a drink.”
“And you’re on duty,” Robbie said.
“Technically, I’m always on duty,” Jesse said. “But in fact I’m here to see how you are.”
“Not official business?” Robbie said.
“No.”
“Well, then, you should be able to have a drink,” she said.
“I’m going to have some champagne, and I’ll be offended if you don’t at least have a little glass.”
Jesse was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “Thank you, I’ll have a glass.”
“Good,” she said. “Champagne is fun.”
She went out and came back soon carrying two champagne flutes and an ice bucket with a bottle of Krug in it.
“I think opening champagne bottles is man’s work,” she said.
“I do, too,” Jesse said.
Jesse opened the bottle, poured some into her glass and some into his. He raised his glass to her.
“Here’s to better times,” he said.
She smiled and raised her glass.
“Yes,” she said. “You’re very sweet to stop in. I admit I was feeling kind of blue.”
“You have every reason,” Jesse said.
He took a small sip. At least it was champagne. He found champagne easier to resist than other things.
“It’s been hard,” she said. “But my sister is here.”
She drank the rest of her champagne and held her glass out. Jesse carefully filled it. Then she raised her glass to Jesse.
“Here’s to you,” she said. “And to catching the guy who did it.”
She drank. Jesse took another restrained sip.
“It’s slow going,” he said.
“Do you have any leads?” she said.
“This and that,” Jesse said. “Nothing very solid. We’re assuming that the two murders are connected.”
“Two? Oh, of course, poor Petey.”
“You liked him?” Jesse said.
“Oh, yes. We both loved Petey.”
“You and your sister.”
She held out her glass, and Jesse filled it. The bottle was nearly empty. The flutes didn’t hold very much, but she wasn’t malingering.
“Yes,” she said.
“You haven’t heard from Ray Mulligan, have you?”
She leaned forward toward him with her forearms resting on her thighs, holding the flute in both hands.
“Jesse,” she said. “Are you questioning me?”
“I don’t mean to,” Jesse said. “I guess I’ve been a cop too long.”
She nodded and smiled. Her eyes were shiny.
“Plus, you are the chief of police,” she said.
“That makes it worse,” Jesse said.
“We believe in you, Jesse,” she said. “We believe we can depend on you.”
“Thank you,” Jesse said.
They were quiet for a moment. Jesse could feel a subliminal sexual charge begin to seep into the room. He didn’t know how he knew it. But he knew it. He’d felt it before, and he’d never been wrong. Jesse also noticed that she had not answered his question about Ray Mulligan.
She remained leaning forward, looking at him.
After a while, she said, “Do you like sex, Jesse?”
“Yes.”
“Do the women you know like sex?”
“I think so,” Jesse said.
She smiled.
“Do you approve of women who like sex?”
“Yes, I do,” Jesse said.
The subliminal sexual charge was now nearly stifling. She picked up the champagne bottle and poured the little that remained into Jesse’s glass, which was still more full than empty.
“Have you ever had sex with more than one woman, Jesse?” she said.
“Not at the same time,” Jesse said.
She smiled and picked up the empty champagne bottle.
“I’ll get us some more,” she said.
She had drunk most of a bottle of champagne, but there was no slur to her speech, and her walk was perfectly steady as she went out of the room.
What happens when she comes back? Jesse thought.
47
THEY CAME IN TOGETHER, both wearing the little black sundress and the slingback heels. One of them carried a bottle of champagne. Even side by side, it was difficult to tell them apart.
“You ladies hang around the house together in the same outfit?” Jesse said.
“Actually,” one of them said, “we do, sometimes. But when you called to say you were coming, we thought we might have some fun with you.”
Jesse nodded.
“For instance, Robbie let you in. But I brought in the champagne.”
“So you would be Becca,” Jesse said.
“Yes,” she said.
“How do you know?” Jesse said.
They both laughed.
“Would you like to see what’s next?” Robbie said.
“Sure,” Jesse said.
Robbie turned away from Becca. Becca unzipped the dress in the back. Then Robbie unzipped Becca, and they both turned toward Jesse and simultaneously slid the sundresses down and stepped out of them. Neither twin was wearing anything under the sundress.
“Heavenly days,” Jesse said.
They both smiled. It was like watching a well-rehearsed dance team. They even stood alike. They radiated sweetness.
“Now,” Robbie said, “we go in the bedroom. You undress and see if you can keep track of who’s doing what to whom.”
“Why would I want to?” Jesse said.
“It’s part of the fun,” Becca said.
Jesse sat and looked at them thoughtfully. They were gorgeous. And identical. They moved in a little circle, and Jesse lost track again of who was whom.
“The Bang Bang Twins,” Jesse said.
They spoke in unison, “Don’t say that.”
“We don’t like that name,” one of them said.
How bizarre is this? Jesse thought. I’m interrogating two naked women.
“You play this game with Petey?” Jesse said.
It must be hard, he thought, to stand around naked in front of someone fully clothed and be interrogated.
“Jesse,” one of them said. “You said this was a social call.”
“Or Knocko?” Jesse said.
Again, they answered simultaneously.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” they said.
“What’s wrong with Knocko?” Jesse said.
“He was a pig,” one of them said.
The other one nodded vigorously.
“How about Reggie?” Jesse said. “He a pig, too?”
“No,” they answered, and looked at each other and giggled.
“Stop thinking about that stuff,” one of the sisters said. “Let’s play.”
“We could do it right here,” the other sister said. “If you’d rather.”
Jesse put his nearly full champagne glass on the coffee table and stood up.
“It’s an exciting offer,” he said. “But rule three in the chief-of-police manual says: no gang bangs.”
The twins stared at him as he walked out.
48
IN THE GRAY GULL, at their table for two, they could look at the harbor and across at the Neck. It was early evening, and the boats in the harbor moved gently at their moorings. The light at that time of day had a faint blue tone. Sunny was drinking a glass of Riesling. Jesse sipped a beer.
“Both of them,” Sunny said.
“Yep.”
“Buck naked,” Sunny said.
“Well,” Jesse said. “They had shoes on.”
“How was that?”
“New and different,” Jesse said.
“Was it, ah, sexually stimulating?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t follow thro
ugh,” Sunny said.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It didn’t seem like a good idea,” Jesse said.
Sunny smiled.
“I haven’t met many men,” she said, “who think about how good an idea it is when confronted by a naked woman.”
“I know,” Jesse said. “I’m a little surprised, myself.”
“Were you daunted by the fact there were two?”
“Maybe,” Jesse said. “Never did anything but the standard one-on-one that I can recall.”
“Maybe you were daunted by the fact that they might be murderers.”
“That’s daunting,” Jesse said. “It’s also daunting, if I ever got them into court, to explain to their defense attorney that yes, I did have sex with them both.”
“The old cluster-fuck defense,” Sunny said.
“That one,” Jesse said.
“How did they take it?” Sunny said.
“The rejection?” Jesse said. “They just stared at me and didn’t say a word.”
“And you left,” Sunny said.
“Yep.”
“Probably hadn’t heard ‘no’ before,” Sunny said.
“A lot less than they’ve heard ‘yes,’ I’d guess,” Jesse said.
“So, what’d you learn in this exercise?” Sunny said.
“You don’t have to have sex with anyone who wants it?”
“Girls know that from puberty,” Sunny said. “What’d you learn that might help you with the case. I assume that’s why you got yourself into that situation.”
“Clearly they were banging Petey,” Jesse said. “Clearly they were not banging Knocko.”
“Molly was right,” Sunny said.
“Apparently,” Jesse said. “And I would guess they’re both banging Reggie.”
“Infidelity and murder are not incompatible,” Sunny said.
“Wow,” Jesse said. “I wish I’d said that.”
“Hell,” Sunny said. “You wish you could.”
They both laughed. The waitress brought them each another drink.
“Spike sent these over,” she said.
“Tell him thank you,” Jesse said.
“Want to hear about the menu?” the waitress said.
“Not yet. I’m right at a crucial point in the seduction,” Jesse said.
“Oh,” the waitress said. “You want some oysters.”
“I’ll let you know,” Jesse said.
The waitress smiled and went away.
The Jesse Stone Novels 6-9 Page 64