“Marriage is hard for cops,” Healy said. “Know a lot of them that can’t do it.”
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“Cop wasn’t the issue, I don’t think,” Jesse said.
“Some of the divorces are a mess. They hate each other, they fight over the kids and the money and anything else they can find.”
“I know marriages like that,” Jesse said.
“Yeah. But some of the breakups are bad. They loved each other, even liked each other, but they couldn’t do it.”
“Hard,” Jesse said.
“Hardest thing in the world, I think. Guys like us,” Healy said, “are not chit-chat guys. Closed in a little, maybe.”
Healy sipped whiskey, and sat a minute as it settled in.
“And the only people we know how to talk with is the women we marry,” he said.
“I know,” Jesse said.
“Then the marriage breaks up, and you need somebody to talk with more than you ever have and she’s the only one you can’t talk with. . . . Makes for a lot of guys alone with a bottle of vodka.”
“That’s why they have shrinks,” Jesse said.
“Lot of cops don’t do shrinks.”
“I do,” Jesse said.
“Which is maybe,” Healy said, “why she’s back in the house.”
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J enn’s dressing room was in the back part of a trailer, the remainder of which served as a production office.
“Just like a movie star,” Jesse said.
He sat on the little built-in banquette while Jenn took off her camera makeup.
“Big production budget,” Jenn said. “This isn’t just Channel Three. This is Allied Broadcasting, which owns five other stations in big markets all across the country. New York, Chicago, L.A. This is like national.”
Jenn washed her face carefully in the small bathroom, and S E A C H A N G E
came out and dried carefully, and began to reapply her own makeup.
“Why not just leave the other makeup on?” Jesse said.
Jenn glanced at him in the mirror.
“Don’t be silly,” she said.
“Just asking,” Jesse said.
Jenn leaned very close to the mirror as she worked on her face.
“When I get through,” she said, “I have something really interesting to show you. You know what B roll is?”
“Sure, second unit. No stars or anything, just the director and a camera guy getting background stuff.”
“Second unit,” Jenn said. “I forget you worked all those years in L.A.”
“Everybody in L.A. knows second unit,” Jesse said. “Hell I can even say mise-en-scène.”
“But can you define it?” Jenn said.
“Nope. I left L.A. before I learned that part.”
Jenn put her lip gloss on and leaned back a little and looked at herself in the mirror. Then she leaned very close and looked. Then back for one more medium-range look and turned toward him.
“Check this out,” Jenn said.
She put a cassette in the built-in VCR and pressed play. It was raw film, taken on board several yachts in Paradise Harbor. Jesse watched silently. There was no dialogue.
“I was looking at some of the B roll,” Jenn said. “Marty’s 1 8 7
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great. She wants my input on everything. And I saw something that I thought would interest you.”
“You want to say what?”
“You’ll see,” Jenn said.
Jesse watched silently. The scenes jerked from one to another without transition.
“Yo!” Jesse said.
Jenn stopped the tape and rewound it, and played it again.
“Yo,” Jesse said.
“See him?” Jenn said.
“From the Florence Horvath sex tape,” Jesse said.
“Part of the fuck sandwich,” Jenn said. “The one on top, I think.”
“And you recognized him,” Jesse said.
“I did.”
“You must have been paying closer attention to that tape than I thought,” Jesse said.
“I’m naturally observant,” Jenn said. “You recognized him, too.”
“I’m supposed to,” Jesse said. “Was this a test?”
Jenn smiled. “I guess it was. I guess I would have kind of liked it if you’d missed him and I had to point him out.”
“Glad I passed,” Jesse said.
“Well,” Jenn said after a pause, “I guess I am, too.”
“Sign of love,” Jesse said.
“Yes.”
“You know where the tape was made?” Jesse said.
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S E A C H A N G E
“Everything’s labeled,” Jenn said. “So when we get in the editing room, we have some idea of what we’re doing.”
“Clever,” Jesse said. “And the location is?”
“Sea Cloud,” Jenn said. “Yesterday. Contact Thomas Ralston.”
“Yesterday,” Jesse said.
Jenn nodded.
“We always date everything,” Jenn said.
“The sonovabitch is still here,” Jesse said.
Jenn shrugged.
“I need a copy of that tape,” Jesse said.
“Take it,” Jenn said. “I had them dupe it for you.”
“Christ,” Jesse said. “Maybe you should be chief of police.”
“What,” Jenn said. “And give up show business?”
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40
H is name was Eric Jurgen. Suitcase Simpson and Arthur Angstrom went out to the Sea Cloud and got him.
“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Jurgen,” Jesse said.
“I try to obey the police,” Jurgen answered.
He spoke with a faint accent.
“Are you foreign born, Mr. Jurgen?” Jesse said.
“I am Austrian,” Jurgen said. “Is there a problem?”
“You are a crewman on the Sea Cloud, ” Jesse said.
“Yes sir.”
“Do you know Florence Horvath?”
S E A C H A N G E
Jurgen smiled. “Florence,” he said. “Yes. I am very sorry to hear that she died.”
“How did you know her?”
“She was with Mr. Darnell when I worked on the Lady Jane. ”
“With Mr. Darnell?”
“You know, like his girlfriend.”
“Didn’t Mr. Darnell have several girlfriends?” Jesse said.
Again Jurgen smiled.
“Yes sir,” Jurgen said. “Many. But Florence was . . . she was like the head girlfriend.”
“I have a copy of a videotape,” Jesse said, “which shows you and another man having simultaneous sex with Florence Horvath.”
“Oh,” Jurgen said. “Oh my. You have that tape.”
“I do,” Jesse said.
“Have I broken the law?” Jurgen said.
“No,” Jesse said. “I’d just like you to tell me a little about the tape, if you would.”
“I . . . I do not know what to tell you,” Jurgen said. “I have done that never before.”
“Had sex for the camera?”
“No, that either,” Jurgen said. “But I have never shared a woman. It is very embarrassing.”
“Who’s the other guy?”
“My brother.”
“His name is Jurgen, too?”
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“Yes. Konrad.”
“How’d the tape come about?”
“Florence wanted to make it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She was living on the boat. We were crew.
Everyone else was ashore.”
“Darnell there?”
“God, no. I could not do that in front of another man.”
“Except your brother.”
“That is different,” Jurgen said.
“Where were you moored?”
“F
ort Lauderdale.”
“Who took the pictures,” Jesse said.
“Her sisters.”
“Florence Horvath’s sisters,” Jesse said.
“Yes.”
“Corliss and Claudia Plum.”
“I think so, I don’t really remember the names very well but that sounds as if it is correct.”
“And this was Florence’s idea.”
“The whole thing,” Jurgen said.
“She approached my brother and myself,” Jurgen said.
“We were embarrassed. But we are brothers. I could not do such a thing with a stranger.”
“How about the Plum sisters?”
“Oh, yes. We didn’t know them. But they were not, ah, actively involved, if you see what I mean. And besides, they were girls. I wouldn’t want another man watching.”
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They were quiet. Jurgen sat obediently, waiting for another question.
“Anyone enjoy this pig pile?” Jesse said.
“Well, it was . . . different,” Jurgen said. “If a man crews on this yacht circuit, he gets a lot of sex. It’s pretty routine after a while. This was . . .”
He rolled his right hand as he tried to think of the right word.
“It was unusual,” he said.
“How about Florence?”
“I guess she liked it,” Jurgen said. “She was quite interested in the filming, though.”
“And you did this because she asked you.”
“Yes. I liked Florence. Kon, my brother, and I both liked her.”
“She pay you?”
“No sir, absolutely not, sir. She did not pay us anything.”
“No offense,” Jesse said. “You have any idea how she died?”
“No sir.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“In the Caribbean, sir. On Mr. Damon’s boat.”
“Where’s Mr. Damon from?”
“Boat’s out of Miami, sir. I don’t know if Mr. Damon lives there.”
“First name?”
“Mr. Damon? I don’t know, sir.”
“And where do you live when you’re not on a boat?”
“Miami, sir. Kon and I have a condo.”
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Jesse pushed a pad of paper toward Jurgen.
“Write down the address,” Jesse said.
Jurgen did. Jesse took the pad back and looked at it.
“Gimme your driver’s license,” Jesse said.
Jurgen produced it and Jesse compared addresses. They were the same. Jesse gave the license back and grinned at Jurgen.
“Suspicious by nature,” Jesse said.
“That is fine, sir. I know you have a job to do.”
Jesse nodded.
“I’d like it if you didn’t talk about this conversation.”
“They will ask me, sir.”
“Tell them it was routine. I simply asked you if you’d observed anything unusual on board.”
“My God, sir . . .”
Jesse put up his hand.
“Just say you told me no.”
Jurgen smiled.
“If you say so, sir,” he said.
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41
J esse had a drink with Rita Fiore at the Seaport Hotel on the South Boston harbor-front.
“Thanks for coming out here through the Big fucking Dig,” Rita said. “But I’ve been in federal court most of the day and needed a double martini immediately after.”
“Glad to oblige,” Jesse said.
“You drinking Coke?”
“Yes.”
“On the wagon?”
“Eleven months,” Jesse said.
“Eek,” Rita said.
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
She drank some of her martini.
“That’s like the last time I saw you,” she said.
“I stopped shortly after.”
“Scared you sober, huh?”
Jesse smiled.
“There were other issues,” he said.
“Yeah. I know. Like the ex-wifey-do.”
“She would be one,” Jesse said.
“How you and she doing.”
Jesse held up crossed fingers.
“We’re living together at the moment.”
“Oh,” Rita said, “how nice for you.”
“Aw, come on,” Jesse said. “You and I weren’t going any -
where.”
“Maybe you weren’t,” Rita said.
“You were?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Rita said.
Jesse didn’t say anything. Rita wore her thick copper hair long. She was wearing a short skirt, and sitting sideways on the bar stool with her legs crossed. Jesse studied her for a moment. Rita watched him and raised her eyebrows.
“You would be a good idea,” Jesse said. “Anytime.”
“But not a keeper,” Rita said.
Jesse smiled and didn’t answer. Rita gestured to the bar -
tender for another martini. She turned back toward Jesse and smiled widely.
“Okay, so you’re not here to propose,” she said.
“I sent a couple of sisters to you awhile ago,” Jesse said.
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“The Plum twins,” Rita said.
“Anything work out?” Jesse said.
“Hey, you think just because you got my clothes off a cou -
ple of times, I’ll betray professional confidences?”
“I was hoping,” Jesse said.
“Actually they didn’t employ me. I have no obligations to them. They wanted help finding out who killed their sister.”
Jesse nodded.
“I sent them to a guy I know. But it didn’t work out.”
“They see him at all?”
“Yes,” Rita said. “But they didn’t tell him anything and when he asked them stuff they were evasive, so he told them to blow.”
“Excuse me?” Jesse said.
“In a manner of speaking,” Rita said.
“They say anything to you?” Jesse said.
“I think they were worried that you are a small-town doofus,” Rita said, “rather than a high-powered urban hotshot . . . like, say, me.”
“Anything else?”
“I’d say their combined intelligence is about that of a mud puddle.”
Jesse nodded.
“They told me they were staying at the Four Seasons,” he said.
“Yep. That’s what they told me.”
“Too bad they didn’t hook up with your guy.”
Rita shook her head.
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“He wouldn’t have told you anything. He’s a very hard case.”
“Just right for you,” Jesse said.
Rita shook her head slowly.
“Fat chance,” she said. “He’s in love with a shrink.”
“Probably handy to have one in house,” Jesse said.
“Certainly would cut down on the travel time,” Rita said.
“What’s your interest in the Plum girls?”
“They might be a little less innocent in all this than they claim.”
“But no smarter.”
“God, no,” Jesse said.
“Tell me,” Rita said.
Jesse drank some of his Coke.
“All of it?” he said.
“Keep you talking,” Rita said, “you may weaken.”
“Especially if you ply me with Coca-Cola,” Jesse said.
“Have another,” Rita said.
They both smiled. And Jesse told her what he knew about the death of Florence Horvath. When Rita listened, Jesse noticed, the sexual challenge left her face.
“Wow,” she said when Jesse was through.
“Yeah,” Jesse said.
“I’ve been a prosecutor,” Rita said, “and a defense attorney. I’ve b
een on one side or another of criminal law all my adult life.”
Jesse nodded.
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“I have also probably slept with more men than you’ve arrested.”
“And I’m a good cop,” Jesse said.
“And I’m shocked.”
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “It’s pretty bad.”
“It’s disgusting,” Rita said.
“But only some of it is illegal,” Jesse said.
“Enough of it,” Rita said. “These aren’t people society has abandoned. They didn’t grow up with no parents in some goddamned project someplace. They’re not victims of racism, or class contempt or poverty. They have no excuse for being trash.”
“True,” Jesse said.
“This is bothering the hell out of me,” Rita said. “And I’m not even involved.”
“I know,” Jesse said.
“Doesn’t it bother you? The obsession with sex, devoid of affection? The exploitation of young girls? The . . .” Rita waved her hands. “The lack of any feeling anywhere among any of these fucking automatons?”
“I have my own problems with it,” Jesse said. “But I try not to let it interfere with the work.”
Rita sat back a little on the bar stool and looked at Jesse and nodded slowly.
“And,” she said, “you haven’t had two martinis on an empty stomach.”
“Sadly, no,” Jesse said.
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J esse sat with the Plum twins on a bench in the Public Garden, across from the hotel, near the Swan Boats.
“Our room is such a mess,” Corliss said.
“The maid hasn’t cleaned up yet,” Claudia said.
“This is fine,” Jesse said. “Right here.”
“What would be a trip,” Corliss said, “would be to get high and take a ride on those boats.”
“At night,” Claudia said.
“You took the pictures of your sister and the two men,”
Jesse said.
“Whaa?” Corliss said.
S E A C H A N G E
“You took the threesome video of your sister.”
“We did not,” Claudia said.
“Not,” Corliss said.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Eric already told me, and Kon will say so as well.”
“How do you know Eric?” Corliss said.
“I’m the chief of police,” Jesse said. “I know everything.”
“You know Konrad?” Claudia said.
Jesse smiled.
“So what’s up with that?” he said.
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