Robert B. Parker's Colorblind

by Reed Farrel Coleman

  “Why kill the Cummingses?”

  “To quote that great philosopher Mike Tyson, ‘All my opponents had a plan until I hit them in the face.’ Plans are great on paper, but they depend on people, and people screw up. I think two things went very wrong: the Wileford assault and my seeing the connection between the Cummings kid and John Vandercamp.”

  “Again, Jesse, they got Alisha. Look, it’s gotten some national press and no one comes out looking good in this thing. She’ll lose her job and do time. The kid is dead, but the world goes on. If they were trying to start a revolution or a race war, they’ve failed.”

  “That’s what worries me. When this began, I thought it was about Alisha. But what if it’s not?”

  Lundquist stood up. “If I was you, I’d worry less about theories and more about finding some evidence that will stand up in court. Because right now, all you’ve got is four pit marks in tar, a lot of maybes, and not much else. Even if those bikers were to testify in court, what would it prove? That someone was willing to pay a lot to harass a cop.”

  “Are you willing to bet I’m wrong? These people have killed three, maybe four people to get to this point. What if that’s just the opening to more bloodshed?”

  Lundquist let out a sigh and sat back down. “Okay, Jesse, what do you want?”

  “We need to get to one of the loose ends before they do.”

  “Who’d you have in mind?”

  “You’ll see.”

  81

  Lundquist made sure Drake Daniels saw Jim Garrison being escorted out of the interview room at the Swan Harbor PD station house. The look on Daniels’s face told Lundquist Jesse was probably right and that with a little encouragement, the Swan Harbor cop would break.

  It hadn’t been easy for Lundquist and Jesse to convince Chief Forster to let them interrogate Garrison and Daniels at the Swan Harbor station. The truth was that Lundquist could have done the questioning at a state police facility or even in Paradise, but Jesse insisted it be done in Swan Harbor.

  Jesse said, “Daniels will really feel the pressure if we do it in his own station. I want him to see the other cops stare at him, whisper, and shake their heads while he sits in the hall and waits to go in.”

  One condition Chief Forster insisted on was being present for the interviews.

  “If you think you’re going to come in here and use me as a prop, you’re wrong,” Forster had told them. “This is my town, my station house, and my cop. And I’m the one who’s going to catch hell for you guys hauling Garrison in here.”

  Jesse wasn’t happy about Forster’s presence. Lundquist wasn’t happy about any of it. But there was no avoiding it. Once they had started down this road, there was no turning back.

  “Okay, Daniels,” Lundquist said, after letting the sight of Garrison sink in. “You’re next.”

  Daniels tried to keep a bored I’ve-seen-it-all-before expression on his face. It didn’t last.

  “Hey, what’s this all about?” he said, his tough-guy resolve quickly vanishing. “This is bull. I’m not talking to you. I got nothing to say.” He turned and looked up at Chief Forster. “Chief, what’s going on here? You’re not gonna let these two railroad me.”

  Forster patted his cop on the shoulder. “Drake, if I were you, I’d answer Captain Lundquist and Chief Stone’s questions honestly and get back to work. I’m sure you’ve got nothing to hide and that this is all a big mistake.”

  “What are you talking about, Chief? What’s a big mistake?”

  Forster didn’t answer but made sure to stay behind Daniels.

  Lundquist said, “Look, Daniels, I’m not buying what Chief Stone here is selling, and so far, at least, neither is your chief.”

  “‘Selling’? What are you talking about? Selling what?” Daniels was already sweating, his breathing rapid and shallow. He turned back to look at his chief for support.

  “Stop looking at him,” Jesse said, voice chilly and calm. “He can’t save you. No one can save you, because there are two people in this room who know the truth: you and me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Daniels looked behind him again. “Chief Forster, I swear I don’t know what—”

  “Felicity Wileford,” Jesse said. “You think you fooled me for one second with that lipstick routine? It must’ve seemed like a good idea at the time. I figure it was Garrison, the kid, and you, and things got out of hand. It happens that way sometimes, but you remembered the Tammy Portugal homicide and thought you could throw us off the scent.” Jesse put his face very close to Daniels’s. “The kid’s dead and Garrison is a tough guy, but he’ll roll over on you eventually. They always do. It’s called self-preservation. People want to save their own skins. How about you?”

  Daniels jumped out of his chair. “That’s it! We’re done in here,” he said, voice cracking.

  Lundquist put a big paw on his shoulder and shoved him back in his seat. “We’re done when I say we’re done. And I’ve got to tell you, the way you’re acting makes Chief Stone’s version of things sound better and better.”

  “You guys need a scapegoat and you’re trying me out for the part,” Daniels said, catching a second wind. “It’s not going to work. If you had anything on me, you wouldn’t be playing games with me. So either show me something or let me out of here to go do my job.”

  Forster spoke up. “I told you my man wouldn’t have been involved in anything like this.”

  “Thanks, Chief,” Daniels said. “Now can I go?”

  Lundquist waved for him to calm down. “In a second. Relax. Chief Stone, Chief Forster, can you give us a minute?”

  Forster agreed immediately.

  Jesse shrugged. “I don’t like it, but this is your case.” He pointed at Daniels. “Lundquist, I’m telling you, he’s dirty.”

  When the door closed, Lundquist sat opposite Daniels. “It’s just you and me now, you idiot. Don’t speak unless I tell you to. Just sit there and listen. Like I said, I’m not buying that you had anything to do with the Wileford assault . . . but there’s no doubt you helped them cover it up. I don’t want you, but I’ve got an open case and you’re going to help me close it one way or the other. I don’t want to hurt a cop, not even one as worthless as you. I might even see my way to guarantee you keep your benefits. Just give me Garrison and the kid and tell me what the plan was.”

  Daniels stood up out of his chair. “Screw you and screw them guys. The next time you want to talk to me, it’ll be with a lawyer present. I got nothing to say to you.”

  “Fair enough,” Lundquist said, grabbing a file off the table. “But before you go, I’ve got something you need to look at.” He opened the folder and spread out crime scene photos from the Cummings homicides. “These two were loose ends, also. This is how your friends deal with loose ends like you and Garrison.”

  “Friends? What friends?” Daniels said, his tough-guy act even less convincing now.

  “If they execute you and Garrison, at least I’ll know who did it and I can wrap up all the open cases at once.” Lundquist got up. “Those are copies. You can keep them. They’re like a gift from the ghost of Christmas future. Your future, which, given how you’re acting, will be a short one. So, last chance. You want to talk to me now?”

  Daniels swept the photos off the table and stormed out.

  82

  Jesse waited until he was certain Daniels had left the station before returning to the interview room.

  “Hate to admit it, Jesse,” Lundquist said, “but that man is guilty of something. He is spooked.”

  “Of course he is. Did you show him the pictures?”

  Lundquist nodded. “Daniels turned white and then made a show of throwing them to the floor. He’s worried.”

  “He should be. That was the point. What did he say when you tried to be good cop to my bad cop?”

  “I could tell h
e was thinking about my offer, but given that Wileford is now a homicide, he pushed back. He’s not a total idiot. He knows that if he admits to taking any part in the assault itself or the coverup that he’s burnt. He’ll lose his job and his pension. Probably also do time, regardless of my intervention. I could make all the fancy promises in the world, but he knows that there’s no coming back from an admission like that.”

  Jesse smiled. “He may know it, but he hopes what you’re saying is true. People build all sorts of fantasies out of a little hope. You’ve set yourself up as his life preserver. He thinks he can turn to you if things go wrong and gets it in his head that they really are coming after him. Now all we have to do is drive him into your arms.”

  “Do I want to know how you’re going to do that?”

  “Probably not.”

  * * *

  —

  THE SOLDIER HAD SET UP in the park across the street from the Swan Harbor police station and waited. He had already watched Jim Garrison leave. Garrison, perpetually red-faced and angry at something or someone, looked shaken and worried. As the landscaper came down the steps of the station, he’d kept checking over his shoulder, as if to make certain he wasn’t being followed. Problem was, Garrison had been shadowed. When he got into his Escalade EXT and drove off, an unmarked Ford trailed half a block behind. And when Drake Daniels exited the station, he too checked over his shoulder. He looked even worse than Garrison had. Another unmarked car followed him.

  Lee Harvey knew trouble when he saw it, and this was trouble. The disturbing part was that the police were being so obvious. They wanted Garrison and Daniels to know they were being tailed. And that meant one thing: They were being squeezed. The police were putting on the pressure, figuring one of them would break. The only thing working against them talking was the seriousness of the charges, but that would work for only so long.

  Shortly after Daniels drove away, he watched Jesse Stone and the state police captain come down the front steps of the station. He focused on Stone. The police chief wasn’t smiling. Stone didn’t strike Lee Harvey as a man who smiled much, but still there was something about the cop that worried him. Stone was the key. Eliminate him and it would give them the time they needed. Lee Harvey reached into his pocket for his cell.

  * * *

  —

  BEFORE JESSE GOT TO HIS EXPLORER, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

  “What’s up, Molly?”

  “Mayor Walker’s in your office waiting for you.”

  “Alone?”

  “She’s got lots of company.”

  “You want me to guess?”

  “Reverend Sam, Reverend Weber, Father Stroby from Saint Rose, Rabbi Kaplan, and an imam from the Islamic Society in Roxbury.”

  “Sounds like a setup for a bad joke.”

  “No one’s laughing, Jesse. You better get over here.”

  “Any idea of what’s going on?”

  “No clue, but it must be big.”

  “Tell them I’ll be there in about a half-hour.”

  * * *

  —

  THE COLONEL WAS NOT PLEASED to have to answer his phone. He had the bullhorn in his hand and was ready to whip up his followers in front of Paradise town hall.

  “This had better be important, son.”

  “Looks like Daniels and Garrison were questioned by Stone, Lundquist, and Forster.”

  “Did they break?”

  “They walked out of the station in Swan Harbor and they were followed.”

  “I see.”

  “You’ve got choices to make, sir.”

  “That I do.”

  “There’s more, sir. Stone has figured it out.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How John W.’s gun disappeared.”

  “I think that just made my mind up for me, son. Do we understand each other?”

  “We do, sir.”

  “Tonight, then. Before he can cause any more trouble.”

  “Understood.”

  Lee Harvey got off the phone and began formulating the murder of Jesse Stone.

  83

  Molly pointed at the conference room. “They’re waiting in there. I ordered in some food from Daisy’s.”

  Daisy’s. Cole. He remembered the photo of Celine sitting on his lap all those years ago. Tonight he would finally get a chance to ask Cole about why he was carrying that photo around with him. Over the last few days Jesse had been too busy to give it a lot of thought. He smiled now, recalling his time with Celine. In every way except for her dark hair and coloring, she was a prototypical California girl. When she wasn’t at the hospital, she was outdoors. She loved surfing, biking, and hiking. She was a little too much into healthy eating to suit Jesse, but mostly he remembered they had fun together.

  “Earth to Jesse Stone,” Molly said, snapping her fingers. “Earth to Jesse Stone.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Where were you, Jesse? You had a weird cast to your eyes and a goofy smile on your face.”

  “Back in L.A.”

  “Thinking about Jenn?”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t be smiling.”

  “Have you heard from her lately?”

  “No. Knowing Jenn, I think she feels somehow responsible for what happened to Diana.”

  “Because of the wedding? That’s silly.”

  “You know Jenn. Everything’s about her. I better get in there.”

  * * *

  —

  ALL EYES TURNED AWAY FROM THE FOOD to Jesse as he entered the conference room. Mayor Walker stood up and intercepted Jesse, looping her arm through his and marching him back outside into the hallway.

  “Where are we with the investigation? Have you made any progress in mitigating what Officer Davis did?” the mayor asked. “Because I don’t mind telling you, Jesse, we’re being slaughtered in the press. And the men in that room are looking for something to hold on to.”

  Jesse thought about his answer before he gave it. His instinct was to not share until he had some evidence that would stand up in court, but he owed Connie for backing him when he hired Alisha.

  “I think Alisha’s telling the truth,” he said. “She was returning fire when she killed John Vandercamp.”

  The mayor looked stunned and puzzled. “What? How is that—”

  “I can’t prove it yet, but we’re close.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Lundquist and Chief Forster from Swan Harbor.”

  “Should I say anything to them? They’re pretty desperate to hear something positive. While it’s not exactly civil war in the streets, tensions are running pretty high. And like I said, we’re getting killed in the press. With all of Vandercamp’s and Reverend Sam’s people here, it won’t take much for things to explode.”

  “You can’t say a word, not yet,” Jesse said, his tone firm. “I can’t prove anything, and we can’t risk a leak. No one can know anything about what I’ve told you. No one, Connie. We can’t give anyone a chance to cover their tracks.”

  “Okay, Jesse, your people have done a good job of keeping the peace so far and I trust you, but I’m afraid something’s going to give soon.”

  Jesse pointed at the conference room. “What’s this about, anyway?”

  “They want to hold a town hall prayer-vigil thing at the old meetinghouse tomorrow night. I’ll let them explain.”

  Jesse and the mayor walked back into the conference room. Jesse understood the impulse to show unity. The tension was palpable and a prayer vigil might be a way to vent some of the steam, but it could also be trouble.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, nodding. “The mayor tells me you want to hold a prayer vigil in the old meetinghouse tomorrow night.”

  Rabbi Kaplan, a tall and slender man with a kind face, stood and gestured toward the imam.
<
br />   “Jesse, this is Imam Muhammed Talib from the Islamic Society. For many years we have served on the Council for Religious Unity, and when Father Stroby suggested we do this, I thought of the imam.”

  “As-salamu alaykum,” Jesse said.

  Imam Talib, an older, olive-skinned man, smiled. “Wa alaykumu s-salam. Where did you learn this, Chief Stone?”

  “When I worked in Los Angeles there were two mosques in my patrol sector.”

  Reverend Sam had had enough of the pleasantries. He stood up and strode over to Jesse. “I’m good at reading faces, Chief Stone. I can tell there’s something about this you don’t like.”

  “I understand the symbolism of this happening in a place connected to the Underground Railroad. I can’t stop you, but not everyone will be inside the meetinghouse praying and holding hands.”

  “Meaning?” asked Reverend Weber.

  “There’s bound to be protesters outside the meetinghouse, and they’re not going to be polite.”

  Father Stroby said, “You mean Vandercamp’s people.”

  Jesse nodded. “They’ve been fairly well behaved to this point, but if you know anything about their history, it won’t last. They wait for events like you’re planning to show their real colors. I suggest you go on the Web and see what they do.”

  “We must never let the haters win,” said the rabbi. “We are all agreed.”

  All the clergy nodded in affirmation.

  The imam said, “We realize this will make it difficult for you, most especially because of the incident which seems to have sparked all this. But people of faith must never be intimidated by such people as these.”

  “We’re sorry, Jesse,” said Father Stroby, “but this is going to happen. We just wanted you and the mayor to be prepared.”

  Jesse and Mayor Walker shook their hands as they left.

  “Well, Jesse, it looks like your people are going to be getting even more overtime.”