Robert B Parker: The Jesse Stone Novels 1-5

by Robert B. Parker

  Jesse turned and walked back toward the window.

  “So where’s the video,” Molly said.

  Jesse stopped.

  “The video?”

  “She must have sent it to him,” Molly said. “What happened to it?”

  “Destroyed it,” Jesse said. “It was incriminating to have, and he didn’t know there were other copies. We know that there’s some kind of high-tech sex thing going on between Ralston and Darnell. And we know they have recruited local, and very young, talent.”

  “This is probably not the only place,” Molly said.

  “Probably not. We’ll see if Healy can help us with that.”

  Jesse continued to look at the Public Works garage. Along one side of the garage, snowplow blades were lined up, waiting for winter. They looked like the skeletal remains of extinct beasts in the hot summer sun.

  “We know both Darnell and Ralston have committed statutory rape,” he said. “And we’re pretty sure we can convict them. Darnell for sure. We’ve got him on tape. Ralston too if the kid will hold up in court.”

  “And none of this tells us if either or both of them murdered Florence Horvath,” Molly said.

  “Sad but true,” Jesse said.

  He turned and began the trip back up the room toward Molly.

  “In fact,” Molly said, “we can’t really prove that she was murdered at all.”

  “She was murdered and Darnell was involved,” Jesse said.

  “How about Ralston?”

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  “Him, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re so sure,” Molly said.

  “I know them,” Jesse said. “I understand them. Darnell and Ralston killed her.”

  “Together?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “But you know they did.”

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  He was standing beside Molly. She looked up at him.

  “Intuition?” she said.

  “I’ve been a cop for a long time,” Jesse said.

  “There’s something else,” Molly said.

  She had turned in her chair and was facing Jesse, looking up at him as he stood in front of her.

  “Maybe I’m a little bit like them,” Jesse said.

  “The hell you are,” Molly said.

  Jesse shrugged.

  “I mean it,” Molly said. “You are in no way like either of those two scumbags.”

  “Scumbags?” Jesse said. “Strong language for a Catholic girl.”

  “Scumbags,” Molly said, “all of them. The men, the women, the damned victim. All of them. After I just talk about them, for God’s sake, I feel like I should take a long shower.”

  “We do know more about them than anyone would want,” Jesse said. “That’s how murder investigations sometimes go. You accumulate evidence and accumulate evidence and a lot of it makes you want to puke and most of it doesn’t solve your case.”

  “So how are you going to solve this one?”

  “Same old way,” Jesse said. “Keep asking. Keep pushing. Try to scare them. Maybe somebody will roll on somebody. Maybe somebody will do something stupid.”

  “Little hard to get somebody to roll on a murder rap by threatening them with stat rape,” Molly said.

  “You might if you were willing to let one of them walk,” Jesse said.

  “Are you?”

  “No,” Jesse said.

  “Accomplice testimony doesn’t get you anything in court, anyway,” Molly said.

  Jesse sat on the edge of the conference table near Molly.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jesse said. “I’m going to get them both.”

  They were quiet. Molly doodled a frowning happy face on her yellow pad. Jesse sat on the table edge and let his feet swing.

  “You and Jenn okay?” Molly said.

  “Yes.”

  “Living together is okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “So far.”

  “God, you’re cautious about this,” Molly said.

  “I worry that I’ll do it again,” Jesse said.

  “Do what?”

  “Whatever drove her away last time.”

  “Maybe she did something,” Molly said.

  “I mean I know she did things, cheated on me and stuff, but what did I do to cause it.”

  “Maybe nothing,” Molly said. “Maybe it was her fault.”

  Jesse shook his head.

  “Course,” Molly said. “If it’s her fault you got no control over it. Your fault, you do. You can be very careful.”

  Jesse continued to look out the window.

  After a time he said, “Thanks, Molly.”

  And Molly left.

  45

  When I’m stuck,” Healy said, “I go over it.”

  “All of it,” Jesse said.

  “Start at page one of my notebook and go page by page all the way through.”

  It was Sunday. They were on his balcony looking at the harbor. Healy had a can of beer. Jesse was drinking Coke. Jenn was in the production office looking at videotape. On the floor of the patio a thick-bodied, middle-aged Welsh corgi lay on his side, his eyes closed, his nose pointed at the ocean. Jesse had put a soup bowl full of water near him. The soup bowl was white with a blue line around the rim.

  “I know,” Jesse said.

  “But you don’t want to,” Healy said.

  “I don’t.”

  “I’ll do it with you,” Healy said. “A second set of ears.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’ll take all day.”

  “Not a problem,” Healy said.

  “Something bad going on at your house?” Jesse said.

  “My wife’s younger brother is visiting with his wife,” Healy said. “They have young children.”

  “You don’t care for young children.”

  “Neither one of us,” Healy said. “But it’s her brother.”

  “And the dog?”

  “They annoy the hell out of Buck,” Healy said. “When he can, he bites them.”

  “So it wasn’t all about helping me when you dropped by.”

  “It was nothing about that,” Healy said. “Why don’t you get your notebook.”

  Jesse went to his bedroom and got the notebook and brought it back.

  “You want another beer?” he said.

  “No,” Healy said. “I’m fine.”

  Jesse always marveled at people who could nurse any drink. He had already finished his Coke.

  “Okay,” he said. “She washes ashore near the town wharf….”

  And they went through it. Incident by incident. Interview by interview. Day by day.

  “Cruz broad sounds pretty good,” Healy said at one point.

  Jesse nodded.

  “People don’t always work that hard to clear somebody else’s case,” Healy said.

  “I think she’s kind of hooked into it,” Jesse said. “Talking to all the people.”

  Healy nodded.

  “Happens,” he said.

  Jesse went on.

  “I went aboard when everyone was at the clambake,” he read.

  “With a warrant,” Healy said.

  Jesse smiled, and didn’t say anything.

  “Okay,” Healy said. “No warrant. I, of course, don’t know that and never thought to ask.”

  “Absolutely,” Jesse said.

  He went on. Healy listened. At one point Buck got up and drank water loudly from the blue-rimmed soup bowl. When he was through he went back to where had been, turned around twice and reassumed his position, with his nose pointed seaward.

  “The twins told their parents they were in Europe,” Jesse said. “But they were actually in Sag Harbor, New York, with some guy named Carlos Coca.”

  “You check that?” Healy said.

  “No.”

  “There’s a loose end,” Healy said.

  “Here’s another one,” Jesse said. “Th
ey say they learned of their sister’s death from someone named Kimmy Young.”

  “Haven’t checked her out, either,” Healy said.

  “No.”

  “Happens,” Healy said.

  “Shouldn’t,” Jesse said.

  Healy shrugged.

  “Where’s Kimmy Young from?”

  “Don’t know,” Jesse said. “I assume South Florida.”

  “I’ll bet Kelly Cruz can find her,” Healy said.

  Jesse nodded. He went back to the notes. It was late afternoon when they finished. Jesse had drunk four Cokes. Healy had nearly finished his beer.

  “You don’t like to drink?” Jesse said when he picked up the can and found it not quite empty.

  “I like to drink,” Healy said. “But I only like to drink a small amount.”

  “Hard to imagine,” Jesse said.

  “Never liked being drunk,” Healy said.

  Jesse nodded. Jenn came in through the front door and walked to the balcony. Buck raised his head, looked at her carefully and put his head back down. Jenn saw Healy’s beer can. Jesse saw her eyes flick to him. She saw the Coca-Cola can.

  “Captain Healy,” Jenn said with a big smile. “How nice to see you.”

  Jenn was dressed in what she considered weekend leisure wear. Yellow running shoes with pale green laces. Green cargo pants with a studded yellow belt. A yellow top, a choker of green beads around her neck and jade earrings.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Healy said. “Nice to see you here.”

  “I know,” Jenn said.

  Jenn crouched on her heels beside the dog. The movement made the cargo pants very smooth along her thighs and butt. Buck opened his black eyes and made a small movement with his miniscule tail.

  “Is that a wag,” Jenn said.

  “It is.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Buck.”

  “May I pat him?” she said.

  “Sure,” Healy said. “He only bites kids.”

  “Can’t blame him for that, can we?”

  “Hell no,” Healy said. “Bite them myself if I wasn’t worried about my pension.”

  46

  Kelly Cruz sat courtside at the Tennis Club with Mrs. Plum while Mr. Plum played men’s doubles. Kelly Cruz had an iced tea. Mrs. Plum was drinking gin and tonic.

  “Your husband plays very well,” Kelly Cruz said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Doubles.”

  “Not a good singles player?” Kelly Cruz said.

  “No. I don’t think he could take the stress of one-to-one confrontation. Inferior players used to beat him regularly. He rarely plays singles anymore.”

  “He’s more of a team player,” Kelly Cruz said, to be saying something.

  Mrs. Plum didn’t comment.

  “I’m sorry to bother you again,” Kelly Cruz said.

  Mrs. Plum drank some gin and tonic. She shrugged.

  “It’s not like my days are filled with important matters,” she said.

  Kelly Cruz smiled. She felt very bad for Mrs. Plum.

  “Do you know anyone named Kimmy Young?”

  “Kimmy Young,” Mrs. Plum said, and took another drink. “Kimmy Young. Yes, of course, she was in school with my twins. She used to come over sometimes. Pajama parties. CDs. Brownies. You know how teenagers are. Her mother was Miss Oklahoma when she was a girl. Married Randy Young, Young Financial Services. He’s done really wonderfully well.”

  “Do you know where I might find her?”

  “The Youngs moved to Sarasota, I think. They found life in Miami a little fast, I suspect.”

  Kelly Cruz glanced around at the sea of tennis whites. Mrs. Plum noticed.

  “They’re somewhat younger than we are,” she said. “I suppose we’ve slowed our pace a bit.”

  “Did the girls go to private school?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Which one.”

  “Vandersea,” Mrs. Plum said. “The Vandersea School.”

  “Here in Miami?”

  “Yes.”

  Kelly Cruz wrote briefly in her notebook. Mrs. Plum flagged down a waiter and got another drink.

  “Why are you asking about Kimmy?”

  “Her name came up in that same case up north,” Kelly Cruz said.

  “Kimmy was a nice girl,” Mrs. Plum said, watching her husband serve. “Smart.”

  He had a nice hard serve, but Kelly Cruz noticed Mr. Plum didn’t follow it in. She didn’t know much about tennis; maybe it was strategy.

  “Know anyone named Carlos Coca?” Kelly Cruz said as she wrote.

  “Heavens, no,” Mrs. Plum said.

  Kelly Cruz nodded, and kept writing. The Plums probably wouldn’t know the Cocas.

  “It must be exciting being a, ah, policewoman,” Mrs. Plum said.

  “Not too much excitement,” Kelly Cruz said. “Lots of asking questions and taking notes.”

  “But it must give you some satisfaction. Solving crimes. That must seem important.”

  Kelly Cruz put the notebook into her purse beside her gun.

  “It does,” she said. “Trouble is, then another crime comes along and you’re slogging along again.”

  “This is the most important thing I’ll do today,” Mrs. Plum said.

  Kelly Cruz didn’t say anything.

  “The money, you know. The money guts you. After a while all you have left to do is look nice, and drink.”

  Kelly Cruz stood and put her hand out.

  “Thank you very much,” she said.

  Mrs. Plum shook her hand and smiled absently and began to look for the waiter.

  47

  Jesse was on the phone with Carlos Coca in Sag Harbor.

  “Who’d you say you were?” Coca said.

  “Jesse Stone. I’m chief of police in Paradise, Massachusetts.”

  “And why do I want to talk with you?” Coca said.

  “So I won’t get a couple of big mean New York state troopers to come over and yank you out of your swimming pool,” Jesse said.

  “I’m not in my pool.”

  “Figure of speech,” Jesse said. “Tell me about Corliss and Claudia Plum.”

  There was silence. Jesse waited.

  “Dumb and dumber,” Coca said after awhile. “Yeah, they were here.”

  “When.”

  “Early in the summer. Memorial Day weekend, I think. Kinda cool. Not good party weather.”

  “How long did they stay?”

  “Too long,” Coca said. “I kicked them out after about three days.”

  “Why?”

  “They didn’t fit in,” Coca said.

  “How so?”

  “They’re fucking crazy, awright? They were drunk by noon. Walked around topless. I got a lot of top-drawer people here. Christ, I got the president of a real estate development company. Big company. International. He’s sitting outside with his wife, having a cocktail before lunch. One of them, who the fuck knows which one, topless, thong bikini bottom, goes and sits in his lap. Takes a drink from his glass. Man!”

  “Wasn’t she cold?” Jesse said.

  “Who, Missy Hot Bottom? I don’t know. Why?”

  “You said it was cool.”

  “Well, hell,” Coca said. “I’m not even sure what weekend. All my weekends are pretty lively. But I’m pretty sure nobody was swimming.”

  “So the bikini was for effect.”

  “Sure, those two assholes don’t do anything except for effect. For crissake, some of my important guests left because of them.”

  “And how do you know them?” Jesse said.

  “Their sister.”

  “Florence?”

  “Yeah. Now there was a babe. She was even wilder than the twins, but she had a little class. You know? She never offended any of my guests. And she could hold her booze.”

  “She brought her sisters to party with you?” Jesse said.

  “Not this year, they came on their own, but yeah, they used to come with her. Hell, they we
re still jailbait when they started coming here. The jailbait twins.”

  “They get along?”

  “Sure. It was like Florence was showing them the ropes. Like she was breaking them in.”

  “Lot of sex at your parties?” Jesse said.

  “Hey,” Coca said. “What about privacy here. I’m entitled to my privacy.”

  “I don’t care if your guests had carnal knowledge of a vending machine,” Jesse said. “I’m only interested in my case. Anything you tell me is off the record.”

  “Well, sure. There’s usually some sex at a big weekend party, you know? Why wouldn’t there be? I think it’s one reason Flo brought her sisters. Learn their way around, in a safe environment.”

  “Safe environment?” Jesse said.

  “Yeah. There’s always a good class of people at my parties. Good place for young girls to, you know, grow up.”

  “Even when they were jailbait?” Jesse said.

  “Not with me,” Coca said. “But yeah. There’s guys like them young. It wasn’t like anyone’s first time.”

  “Any idea where anyone might have lost her cherry?”

  “Got me,” Coca said. “Flo told me they weren’t virgins.”

  “Know where they were headed when you gave them the boot?” Jesse said.

  “Nope. They packed up, and my driver took them into the city and dropped them.”

  “Where?”

  “He said he took them to the Peninsula Hotel.”

  “And this would have been the beginning of June?”

  “Yeah, sure, first week or so for sure.”

  “And you haven’t heard from them since?”

  “No. What’s this all about, anyway? What’d they do?”

  “Just routine stuff, Mr. Coca, names came up in a case here.”

  “Flo involved?”

  “Indirectly,” Jesse said.

  “Well, Flo had more class, but they’re all crazy. Whole goddamned family was crazy, Flo said.”

  “Whole family?”

  “Yeah. That’s what she used to say.”

  “Any details?”

  “No, just that they were all crazy. That the money had ruined them all.”

  “You think she was including her parents?” Jesse said.

  “She never said. All of them seemed kind of hung up on the old man.”

  “How so?” Jesse said.

  “What am I, fucking Dr. Phil? They just talked about him a lot. Daddy this, Daddy that. Like he mattered.”