Night and Day js-8
Page 2
“You go here?” Bobbie said.
“No, Arizona,” Jesse said. “But school is pretty much school.”
Bobbie nodded.
“So, before the dance,” Bobbie said, “Old Lady Ingersoll lines us up and marches us into the girls’ locker room and starts checking us out.”
“What did she do,” Jesse said.
“She picked up my skirt,” Bobbie said, “and looked at my panties.”
There was a small, uneasy stir in the crowd of kids and parents.
“She tell you why she did that?” Jesse said.
“She said”?Bobbie lowered her voice in mimicry?“ ‘Proper attire includes what shows and what doesn’t.’ ”
“Did she say what would have been improper?” Jesse said.
“She said anyone wearing a thong should leave now, because they’d be sent home if she saw one,” Bobbie said.
“Anyone leave?” Jesse said.
“Couple girls,” Bobbie said.
“Thongs?” Jesse said. “Or silent protest?”
His face was perfectly serious. Bobbie grinned at him.
“Or nothing,” she said.
Most of the girls giggled.
“That’d probably be even more improper,” Jesse said.
Some of the mothers joined in the giggle.
“Anyone object to the, ah, panty patrol?” he said.
“I did,” Bobbie said, “and a couple other girls, Carla for one, and Joanie.”
“And Mrs. Ingersoll said?”
“She said it was all between us girls, and she was trying to save us from being embarrassed, if somebody saw.”
Jesse took in a deep breath and let it out.
He said, “How old are you, Bobbie?”
“I’ll be fourteen in October.”
“Thank you,” Jesse said. “Anyone have anything to add? Carla, Joanie?”
No one said anything.
“Parents?”
One of the fathers got to his feet. He was a husky guy, with the look of someone who worked outdoors.
“Can you arrest her?” the man said.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Charles Lane,” he said.
“I’m not sure quite what the charge would be, Mr. Lane,” Jesse said. “Molestation generally requires sexual content. Assault generally includes the intent to injure. There might be something about invasion of privacy, but I don’t know that it would hold.”
“We are not going to let this go,” he said.
“No, sir,” Jesse said. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“So what would you do?”
“I am going to talk to someone from the Essex County DA’s office,” Jesse said.
“You think we should get a lawyer?” Lane said.
Jesse grinned.
“That’s pretty much what I’m doing,” Jesse said.
4
JESSE HAD made sangria. He and Jenn sipped some as they sat together on the small balcony off his living room, looking at the harbor. It was early on a Saturday evening. Jenn had brought Chinese food, which was still in the cartons, staying warm on a low temperature in Jesse’s oven.
“You know,” Jenn said, “I realized the other day that we’ve been divorced longer than we were married.”
“Yes,” Jesse said.
“And yet, here we are.”
“Yes,” Jesse said.
Jesse had made the sangria in a large glass pitcher, with a lot of ice. It sat on the low table between them, the condensation beading on the pitcher and making small tracks down the glass.
“I can’t imagine life without you in it,” Jenn said.
“Can’t live with them,” Jesse said. “Can’t live without them.”
“There are people who are doing worse than we are,” Jenn said.
It was still daylight, and Jesse could see several people in rowboats scattered around the inner harbor, bottom-fishing for flounder. Jesse drank some sangria.
“And some doing better,” Jesse said.
“Yes,” Jenn said, “of course.”
In one of the rowboats a young boy hooked a fish and hauled it in hand over hand. His father helped him take it off the hook.
“Is everything all right, Jesse?” Jenn said.
“It never is, Jenn,” Jesse said.
He drank some sangria.
“But it’s not worse than usual?” Jenn said.
Jesse looked at her and smiled.
“That might be our motto,” Jesse said. “It’s not worse than usual.”
Jenn nodded.
“Are you seeing anyone these days?” she said.
“Several people.”
“Anyone special?”
“They’re all special,” Jesse said.
“Because they have sex with you?”
“Exactly,” Jesse said.
“Am I special?” Jenn said.
“Yes,” Jesse said. “Even when we don’t have sex.”
“Is anyone else special like that?”
“No.”
They were quiet for a time, drinking sangria, as the sun went down and the small boats came into the dock, and the lights went on in the boats moored in the harbor, and across the harbor in the houses on Paradise Neck.
“Maybe we should think about supper,” Jenn said.
“Sure,” Jesse said.
“We could eat out here,” Jenn said.
Jesse nodded.
“You gonna spend the night, Jenn?”
“If I may,” Jenn said.
“You may.”
“I think we should have sex before we eat,” Jenn said. “I do so much better on an empty stomach.”
“You do well in any condition,” Jesse said.
“Does it make me especially special?” Jenn said.
“One of the many things,” Jesse said.
5
THE ADA was a tall, athletic-looking woman named Holly Clarkson. Like a lot of assistant prosecutors, she was young, maybe five years out of law school, and earning some experience in the public sector before she sank comfortably into some law firm somewhere as a litigator.
“You want to arrest the principal of the junior high school?” Holly said. “And charge her with what?”
Holly always wore oversized round eyeglasses as a kind of signature. Today she was dressed in a beige pantsuit and a black shirt with long collar points.
“Whatever you can come up with,” Jesse said.
“And you actually want to put her in jail?”
“Yes.”
“You do know that her husband is the managing partner of the biggest law firm in the state,” Holly said.
“Jay Ingersoll,” Jesse said. “Cone, Oakes, and Baldwin.”
“Correct,” Holly said. “And she is accused of picking up the skirts of some junior-high girls and checking their underwear.”
“Yes.”
“That’s idiotic,” Holly said.
“It is,” Jesse said.
“I admit,” Holly said, “that it would be fun to see her do a little time, get her attention, so to speak.”
“It would be,” Jesse said.
“But you can’t arrest somebody because it would be fun,” Holly said.
“I can’t?”
“No,” Holly said. “And if we started prosecuting people for being idiotic . . .”
“Be a hot one for the press and the talk shows,” Jesse said. “Elevate your profile.”
“I’m not that ambitious,” Holly said. “And if I were, the approval of Jay Ingersoll would be more valuable to me than anything the press could give me.”
“You got kids?” Jesse said.
“Not yet,” Holly said. “First I need to get married.”
Jesse nodded.
“Sure,” Holly said. “I know if it were my kids I’d want to strangle the bitch. But to prosecute her for . . . whatever we come up with, and get buried in paper by a platoon of lawyers from Cone, Oakes. You know what they’ve got f
or resources?”
“More than Essex County?” Jesse said.
“More and better. Not everybody on staff in our office is a legal eagle like me.”
“Anybody in your office got a death wish?” Jesse said.
“No,” Holly said. “And if they did, Howard would fire them before they got a chance to en-act it.”
“The DA doesn’t want to start anything,” I said.
“The DA wants to get reelected next year,” Holly said.
“How about by being tough on crime?”
“When people say that, they mean tough on street crime. And tough on scary black kids with tats. They do not mean tough on annoying school administrators,” Holly said.
“These are thirteen-year-old girls,” Jesse said.
“Oh, please,” Holly said. “I’ve been a thirteen-year-old girl, Jesse. They aren’t adults, but they aren’t innocent babies, either. You know as well as I do that thirteen-year-old girls can be sexually active.”
“And why is that the school’s business,” Jesse said. “What happened to readin’ and writin’?”
“Parents dump it on the schools,” Holly said. “ ‘Where were you when my Melinda was bopping little Timmy behind the back stop?’ ”
“And the panty patrol is supposed to prevent that?”
“Of course it won’t,” Holly said. “But Mrs. Ingersoll is, after all, an educator.”
Jesse nodded.
“I never liked school,” he said. “But in fact this may not be a problem with schools. This may be a problem with Mrs. Ingersoll.”
“It may,” Holly said.
“She shouldn’t get away with it,” Jesse said.
“Shouldn’t?” Holly said. “You and I don’t live in a world of should and shouldn’t, Jesse.”
Jesse grinned at her.
“I know,” he said. “But we should.”
6
MOLLY BROUGHT Missy Clark into Jesse’s office. Missy was wearing running shorts and a cropped T-shirt and cowboy boots. There was dark makeup around her eyes, and a big gold hoop in her right ear. She was thirteen. Jesse gestured her to a chair. Molly lingered in the doorway.
“What can I do for you?” Jesse said.
Missy sat and looked at Jesse, then looked at Molly, and back at Jesse.
“I gotta talk to you alone,” Missy said finally.
Jesse nodded.
“Officer Crane normally stays when there’s a woman alone with me in the office. Prevents misunderstandings.”
“Misunder?? Oh,” Missy said. “No. You’re not like that.”
Jesse smiled.
“That’s right,” he said. “I’m not.”
He nodded at Molly and she went away. Missy looked at the open door.
“You may close the door if you’d like,” Jesse said.
Missy got up and looked out into the corridor to see that Molly wasn’t lurking there. Then she closed the door and went back to her chair. Jesse clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.
“So,” he said. “What’s up.”
“I saw you at school the other day,” she said.
“Yes,” Jesse said. “I saw you, too. Second row, at the far end to my right. Wearing a yellow sundress with small blue flowers on it. You didn’t seem to be with your parents.”
“Mrs. Ingersoll won’t let us wear jeans or anything,” Missy said. “How come you noticed me.”
“I’m the chief of police,” Jesse said. “I notice everything.”
“You were nice to us,” Missy said. “You were nice to Bobbie Sorrentino, when she talked.”
“Why shouldn’t I be nice to you?”
“’Cause we’re kids and she’s the principal.”
Jesse nodded.
“You came along to that meeting even though your parents weren’t with you,” Jesse said.
“I didn’t like that she made me pull my dress up,” Missy said.
“Don’t blame you,” Jesse said.
Missy looked around the office. Jesse waited. Missy studied the picture of Jenn that sat on top of the file cabinet to Jesse’s left.
“That your wife?” she said.
“Ex-wife,” Jesse said.
“How come you got divorced?” Missy said.
Jesse smiled at her.
“None of your business,” he said.
Missy nodded.
“She fool around?” Missy said.
“Answer stands,” Jesse said.
“I was just wondering,” Missy said.
Jesse nodded. He smiled at her again.
He said, “The way this usually works, Missy, is the cop asks the questions.”
Missy nodded. Neither of them spoke for a time. Missy looked again at Jenn’s picture.
“Is she that reporter on Channel Three?” Missy said.
Jesse didn’t answer.
“She is. I seen her lots of times,” Missy said.
Jesse waited. Missy looked around the office some more.
“I gotta tell you something,” Missy said.
“Okay.”
“You can’t tell anybody,” Missy said.
“Okay.”
“You can’t tell anybody I even talked to you,” Missy said.
“Okay.”
“You gotta promise,” Missy said.
“Sure,” Jesse said. “I promise.”
“Even if I told you something like a murder or something, would you still not tell?”
Jesse shook his head.
“I’d tell,” he said.
“Well, it’s not a murder.”
“Good,” Jesse said.
“And I trust you,” Missy said.
“Thank you,” Jesse said.
They were quiet. Missy seemed to be gathering herself.
“I . . .” She stopped and took a breath and started again.
“You know what swinging is?” she said.
“As in the swinging lifestyle?” Jesse said.
“Yes . . . you know, wife-swapping.”
“I know what that is.”
Missy was silent. Jesse waited.
“My mom and dad do it,” she said.
“Swing?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?” Jesse said.
“They have a swinger party about once a month at our house.”
“And you’ve seen them,” Jesse said.
“Me and my little brother are supposed to stay upstairs.”
“But you peek,” Jesse said.
“Yes.”
“How old’s your brother?”
“Eight,” Missy said.
“Your parents know you know?”
Missy shook her head. Jesse took in a deep breath.
“How do you feel about it?” Jesse said.
“How would you feel?” she said. She looked as if she might cry.
“Awful,” Jesse said.
Missy nodded.
“And my little brother,” she said. “I mean, he’s doesn’t even exactly know what having sex is.”
“It scare him?” Jesse said.
“Yes,” Missy said. “How did you know that.”
“Remember what I said about being chief of police,” Jesse said.
Missy smiled faintly.
“You know everything?” Missy said.
“Exactly.”
“That’s how you knew we peeked,” Missy said.
“Actually,” Jesse said, “I knew that because that’s what I woulda done.”
Missy nodded.
“Most adults aren’t like you,” Missy said.
“Is that good or bad,” Jesse said.
“Most grown-ups act like they were never a kid, you know?”
“Your parents like that?” Jesse said.
“Yeah. Do this. Do that. Be a lady. Blah, blah, and look at them. Look at what they’re doing.”
“Hard,” Jesse said.
“Can you make them stop?” Missy said.
“As far
as I know, there is no law against swinging,” Jesse said.
“But it’s wrong,” Missy said. “You’re not supposed to be like that if you’re married, are you?”
“Probably not,” Jesse said.
“So can’t you tell them to stop it?”
“I can, but I can’t force them,” Jesse said. “And I assume you don’t want them to know you blew the whistle.”
“Oh, Jesus, no.”
“So I’m not sure what I can do,” Jesse said.
“So, okay, the hell with them. If they can live like that, so can I.”
“If you actually want to,” Jesse said, “I suppose you can. But revenge is a lousy reason for having sex.”
Missy was silent again.
Then she said, “I don’t really want to. It seems so icky.”
“Scare you?” Jesse said.
“No . . . yes. I guess so.”
“Why don’t you wait until it doesn’t,” Jesse said.
“But what about my parents? Isn’t there something you can do?”
“I’ll think on it,” Jesse said. “And maybe get some advice, without mentioning any names.”
“Advice from who?”
“Oh, a shrink I know, maybe.”
“I don’t want to see no shrink,” Missy said.
“I’m not asking you to. I see him, and I can ask him for advice.”
“You see a shrink?” Missy said.
“I do,” Jesse said.
“Is it about her?” Missy said, looking at Jenn’s picture. “I bet it’s about her. Is it?”
Again, Jesse smiled at her.
Again, he said, “None of your business.”
7
JAY INGERSOLL came into Daisy Dyke’s at three-ten in the afternoon and spotted Jesse sitting at the counter. He walked over.
“Chief Stone,” he said. “I’m Jay Ingersoll.”
“How do you do,” Jesse said.
Ingersoll was tall and lean, with thick white hair cut short and a dark tan. His dark summer suit fit him well, and he looked to Jesse like a man who probably played a lot of tennis.
“Mind if I join you?” Ingersoll said.
Jesse gestured at the stool next to him. Ingersoll sat. He had small handsome character wrinkles around his eyes, and deep parenthetic grooves at the corners of his mouth.
“Apple pie?” Ingersoll said.
“Um-hm,” Jesse said.
“Looks good,” Ingersoll said.
“Daisy makes a nice pie,” Jesse said.