Robert B Parker: The Jesse Stone Novels 1-5

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Robert B Parker: The Jesse Stone Novels 1-5 Page 46

by Robert B. Parker


  That was thirty-six hours ago and now having told everything she knew to Suitcase Simpson and the good-looking State Police SWAT team person, having been examined by a doctor, having showered and slept nearly eighteen hours, and showered again, and had some coffee, and orange juice, and eaten two soft boiled eggs and four slices of whole wheat toast with a butter substitute spray, she was waiting without much enthusiasm to do something she knew she had to do, without exactly understanding why she had to do it. She was sitting in a coffee shop in Government Center waiting to have lunch with Jenn Stone.

  Marcy recognized her when she entered. She had made it a point to watch Jenn do the weather on Channel 3, and, while the forecast was laughable, she was as good-looking as Marcy had assumed. Several people recognized her as she came in, but if Jenn noticed she didn’t let it show.

  Marcy raised a hand as Jenn looked around the room, and Jenn saw her and came to the table.

  “Hello,” she said and put her hand out, “I’m Jenn.”

  “Marcy Campbell.”

  Jenn’s grip was firm. Her body bespoke a personal trainer. Her hair was thick and intelligently cut. Her makeup was flawless. Her jewelry was quiet and expensive. The casual comfortable look of her clothes, Marcy knew, had cost her a lot of money. Jenn sat down opposite her, and Marcy knew she had taken the same inventory. And Marcy realized suddenly that Jenn looked a little like her. Younger. Probably better-looking, but Marcy could see that there was a resemblance. Jenn picked up the menu, a single mimeographed sheet of white paper.

  “Have you ordered?”

  “No, let’s before we talk.”

  They were silent, briefly looking at the menu, and the waitress came and took their order. They both ordered a mixed green salad and a diet Coke, and they laughed at their common concern.

  “It’s a fight, isn’t it?” Jenn said.

  “You seem to be winning it,” Marcy said.

  Jenn smiled, comfortable with the compliment, accepting it as if it were expected.

  The waitress reappeared with their salads and a bread basket.

  “You wanted to talk about Jesse,” Jenn said.

  Marcy had thought about what to say since last night when she’d made her impulsive call. She had finally decided that she didn’t know what to say and would wait and see what came out when the question was asked.

  “Have you ever seen him at work?” was what came out.

  “Marcy, he was a cop in Los Angeles when I married him.”

  “But did you ever see him being a cop, you understand?”

  Jenn got it quickly.

  “You mean like you did?” Jenn said.

  “Yes, and I know it’s not my business, and I’m probably driven by gratitude and maybe post traumatic shock syndrome, but God if you had seen him.”

  “Tell me about it,” Jenn said.

  “He was, I don’t know, there we were, like captives being led away, and then there was Jesse. One minute everything is hopeless and we’re all terrified, and then . . .” Marcy couldn’t think how to put it.

  “Was he calm?” Jenn said.

  “Yes.”

  “He would be,” Jenn said. “And you saw him shoot this man.”

  “Yes.”

  “Was that awful?” Jenn said.

  “No,” Marcy said.

  “Jesse can be very tough,” Jenn said.

  “And very brave.”

  Jenn nodded.

  “Yes,” she said, “very brave.”

  They both picked at their salads for a moment. The salads were mostly iceberg lettuce with a single red onion ring on it and two cherry tomatoes.

  “This will not make us fat,” Marcy said.

  Jenn smiled.

  “Nor happy,” she said. She took a bite of salad. The dressing was on the side in a little cup. It was a bright orange.

  “Sorry about the restaurant,” Jenn said. “It’s right near the station.”

  “That appears to be its only charm,” Marcy said.

  “I’ll know better next time.”

  They each had a bite of salad.

  “What is the point of you telling me about Jesse?” Jenn said.

  “I guess I hoped it would help you make up your mind.”

  “He’s told you about me.”

  “Yes.”

  “You lovers?”

  “No, good friends.”

  “You fucking him?” Jenn said.

  “Yes.”

  “But you don’t love him.”

  “Been a long time,” Marcy said, “since I thought those two were inseparable.”

  Jenn smiled without committing herself on sex and love. “And you like him a lot,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s easy, isn’t it,” Jenn said, “to like him a lot. I like him a lot too.”

  “And love him?”

  “Yes, absolutely, I love him,” Jenn said.

  “Then?”

  “‘Then’ . . . loving him and living with him are different things.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  For the first time, Marcy heard the iron in Jenn’s voice and realized that she was something a little more than a media cutie. It startled her a bit, though it didn’t frighten her, and it made her feel better for Jesse, knowing he wasn’t wildly in love with an airhead.

  “No,” Marcy said, “I don’t. But it would be good if you did.”

  “I know some,” Jenn said. “I know that Jesse loves me, but I know that he has to back off a little and give me some airspace.”

  “Obsessive?”

  “Some.”

  “He doesn’t seem obsessive to me,” Marcy said.

  “He’s not in love with you,” Jenn said.

  “Ah-ha,” Marcy said.

  Jenn was quiet.

  “If I could be a friend to both of you,” Marcy said, “I’d like to be.”

  “Hard to figure how that will work,” Jenn said.

  “Might be worth a try,” Marcy said.

  “What’s in it for you?”

  “Payback, I suppose,” Marcy said.

  “What’s in it for me?” Jenn said.

  “A girlfriend isn’t a bad thing,” Marcy said.

  Jenn finished her salad and broke off a piece of bread.

  “May I call you?” Marcy said.

  Jenn ate the piece of bread without butter.

  When she had chewed and swallowed, Jenn said, “Will you tell Jesse?”

  “No.”

  Jenn smiled at Marcy and nodded.

  “Sure,” she said. “Call me.”

  Chapter 67

  Jesse had Faye brought from her cell to his office. Molly stayed in the room.

  “You can uncuff her, Molly.”

  Molly unlocked the cuffs.

  “Sit,” Jesse said.

  Faye sat. Her face was without expression. Her eyes seemed empty. Jesse looked at some papers on his desk for a moment.

  “Faye,” he said. “We got you for assault and kidnapping.”

  Faye didn’t say anything.

  “You wanna explain to me what you were doing?” Jesse said.

  Faye shook her head.

  “Okay,” Jesse said. “Then I’ll explain it to you, and you tell me if I got anything wrong.”

  Faye was silent and motionless. Molly was equally still against the wall near the door, her service pistol looking, as it always did, a little too large for her.

  “You’re James Macklin’s girlfriend.”

  “Was,” Faye said with no inflection in her voice.

  “And you saw me one night in the Gra
y Gull having a drink with Abby Taylor, and because of the way she was acting, you decided she must be my girlfriend.”

  Faye had no reaction.

  “And when I came to ask you about Macklin and Cromartie, you knew that the thing on Stiles Island was already going down, and you got scared that I’d screw it up, so you went and grabbed Abby to use as a hostage. In case I had Macklin, you figured maybe you could barter my girlfriend for your boyfriend. You were wrong about me and Abby, but that wasn’t your fault. You made a reasonable surmise.”

  Faye sat motionless, looking at nothing.

  “Why’d you do that?” Jesse said.

  Faye looked at him sharply. It was the first reaction he’d gotten.

  “Why the fuck do you think?” she said.

  “I figure it’s because you loved him and would do anything you could to save him.”

  Faye was silent a long time. But she was looking at Jesse. Her eyes were alive. She began to nod her head slowly.

  Finally she said, “Yes,” her voice full of force.

  Jesse leaned back in his swivel chair and rocked gently, balancing the chair with the tips of his toes.

  “You got any money?” Jesse said after a time.

  Faye didn’t answer.

  “She had a thousand dollars in her bra when I brought her in,” Molly said.

  Jesse nodded. Faye’s face was pinched and white as if she were in pain.

  “Go get her money,” Jesse said to Molly.

  Molly stared at him for a moment and then left the room without closing the door. Neither Faye nor Jesse spoke while she was gone. Molly came back into the room with an envelope and handed it to Faye.

  “I’m going to take her for a ride,” Jesse said.

  “Alone?” Molly said.

  “Yep.”

  “A female prisoner, Jesse? You’re leaving yourself wide open.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Jesse said in just that calm way that Molly understood. It meant, I will do this no matter what anybody says.

  Molly nodded once in submission and went back to the front desk. Jesse took Faye’s arm, and they walked out to Jesse’s official car and got in. Faye didn’t say a word. She held the envelope that Molly had given her in her lap. She hadn’t opened it. She didn’t ask where they were going. Jesse went over the Tobin Bridge and turned off in City Square and drove back down past the Navy Yard to Faye’s condo. When he got there and parked the car, he turned in the seat and looked at her.

  “I know you don’t believe it, but maybe you can remember that I said it. You will get over this. In time you will feel better. In time, and I know you don’t want to now, you may meet another guy.”

  Faye shrugged, looking at the envelope in her lap.

  “You’re free to go,” Jesse said.

  Faye stared at him.

  “I killed Jimmy because I had to,” Jesse said. “I don’t have to do anything to you.”

  Faye stared at him some more without moving.

  “This doesn’t wash it clean,” Faye said.

  “Nothing will,” Jesse said. “In time it will be easier.”

  Faye still sat in the car, staring.

  “Get going. Don’t hang around here. Go far away, and I won’t look for you.”

  Faye opened the car door and got out slowly and walked toward the stairs to her condo. Jesse waited as she went up. She took a key from the mailbox and opened her door. She stopped in the doorway and looked back at Jesse. Then she went in and closed the door, and Jesse backed the car around and drove back to Paradise.

  When he walked into the station alone, Molly said, “Where’s the woman?”

  “She escaped,” Jesse said and kept walking into his office and sat down at his desk.

  Molly followed him in.

  “Escaped?” Molly said.

  Jesse nodded.

  “The biggest collar I ever made,” Molly said.

  “You still get credit for the collar. I’m the one lost her.”

  “Lost her, bullshit,” Molly said. “You let her go, you sentimental dumb son of a bitch.”

  “Molly, I am your chief.”

  “And you are also a sentimental dumb son of a bitch,” Molly said.

  Jesse shrugged. Molly came around the desk and bent over and kissed him on the mouth, then straightened and walked out of the office. Jesse got some Kleenex out of the bottom drawer and wiped his mouth.

  Chapter 68

  It was Sunday morning. Jesse and Jenn were in Rowley, sitting at the counter of the Agawam diner, eating ham and scrambled eggs and home fries and toast.

  “Do you know what happened to the ones that got away?”

  “Not exactly. A big power boat washed up on the beach north of Port City couple days ago. There was a dead man in it. Guy named Fred Costa, had a record.”

  “How’d he die?” Jenn said.

  The diner was warm with the smell of coffee and bacon. Outside the diner, along old Route One the trees were just beginning to turn.

  “Bullet in the head.”

  “You think he was involved?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And the Indian one?”

  “Wilson Cromartie,” Jesse said. “No sign.”

  “And all that money?”

  “Gone.”

  “Still you got three of them,” Jenn said.

  “Actually, I got one of them,” Jesse said. “They had already killed two of their own.”

  “And you saved the hostages.”

  “Sort of,” Jesse said.

  “What do you mean sort of?”

  Jesse nodded at the thick woman behind the counter, and she poured more coffee into his cup. He added some cream, looked at it as it spiraled slowly into the coffee. He added two spoonfuls of sugar and stirred it, watching the color change. Then he took a sip.

  “Well,” he said. “Marcy Campbell told me that Cromartie let the women go.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He said he wasn’t hiding behind women. If he’d held them and stayed put, I’d have been fucked.”

  “You think he was that gallant?”

  “Gallant,” Jesse said. “Nice word. I don’t know. Maybe he just wanted all the money.”

  “He could still have taken them as hostages to protect himself until he got away.”

  “True,” Jesse said. “On the other hand, he might have figured he could move better traveling lighter.”

  “I think he was gallant,” Jenn said.

  “If Fred Costa was the guy driving the boat, he gallantly shot him in the back of the head.”

  “You don’t know that he was.”

  “No. Maybe we will. Fred was from Mattapoisett. State Cops are down there asking around, see if we can turn up anything. A connection to Macklin or Cromartie or either of the two dead guys.”

  “You’ve ID’d them? The other two men?”

  Jesse smiled. A cop’s wife, she fell into the jargon easily, and what sounded natural in the station sounded strange from her lips.

  “Yeah, they’ve both done time. One’s from Baltimore. One’s from Atlanta.”

  “Well, I hope the Indian man gets away,” Jenn said.

  “Even though he seems to have abandoned his partner to me and may have shot some guy to death on his boat and who knows who did the two guys on the island?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because he was gallant about the women hostages?”

  “Well, he was.”

  Jesse smiled at her.

  “Okay,” Jesse said. “And if I ever catch him, I’ll tell him you said so.”

  “I hope you don’t catch him. Is that Hopkins bitch still after you?”

  “Probab
ly,” Jesse said. “But she’s laying low at the moment.”

  “Be kind of hard to say you weren’t doing your job right, with all the papers in the state calling you a hero.”

  “She’ll wait,” Jesse said. “I don’t think she’ll go away.”

  “She can’t be happy you let me go.”

  “No.”

  “You let a woman go too,” Jenn said. “Molly told me.”

  “She’s supposed to keep her mouth shut,” Jesse said.

  “It’s okay to tell me,” Jenn said.

  “You’re special?”

  “I certainly am,” Jenn said.

  “You certainly are,” Jesse said.

  Jenn was quiet while she sipped some coffee. Jesse ate some eggs.

  “How you and short stuff doing?” Jesse said.

  “Tony?”

  “Yeah. He fall off his cowboy boots yet?”

  “Oh, Tony’s a news anchor, Jesse.”

  “So?”

  “So he’s frivolous.”

  “How about policemen, are they frivolous?”

  “No,” Jenn said.

  Jesse bit the end off of a triangle of toast.

  “So are you being frivolous with Tony these days?”

  “I guess that isn’t really your business, is it?”

  Jesse felt the lump that was always there thicken again inside him.

  “No,” he said, “I guess it isn’t.”

  Jenn patted his forearm. “I understand that it’s hard not to ask,” she said. “But sometimes the only way to keep something is to let it go.”

  “Divorce isn’t letting go enough?”

  “Maybe not,” Jenn said.

  “Well,” Jesse said, “isn’t that swell.”

  “Jesse, I’m not saying that this is the way it ought to be. But it is the way it is. I’m trying too.”

  “I know,” Jesse said.

  They were quiet while the counter woman cleared their plates. Jenn spent the time looking at his face.

  “I’m very proud of you,” Jenn said when the plates were cleared.

  “Yeah,” Jesse said. “I did all right.”

 

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