Night and Day

by Parker, Robert B.

  Finally, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I am, too,” Jesse said. “Have you not had sex with your husband for three years?”

  “At least,” she said. “And before that, it was no good.”

  She looked at Molly.

  “I had to work so hard just to . . . get him ready.”

  Molly nodded.

  “All he wanted to do was look and take pictures,” she said. “I’ll bet there’s five hundred nude pictures of me in his computer.”

  Jesse nodded.

  “That’s why we joined swingers. I’d get sex out of it. I didn’t want to cheat on my marriage. But I like sex. I need it. And he got something out of it without cheating on his marriage.”

  Jesse nodded again.

  “And it didn’t occur to you that he might be the Night Hawk?” Jesse said.

  She shook her head.

  “The closest I got,” she said, “was to think, Wow, here’s a guy with the same hang-ups Seth has. But then I’d think, Good, Seth has the swingers.”

  “Hard, anyway, to think your husband would do such a thing,” Molly said.

  “But he did,” Hannah said. “He did, he did, he did.”

  “It was you who told him we were going to have a meeting,” Jesse said.

  “Yes,” Hannah said. “He calls me on his cell phone now and then. It’s awkward. I’m straining for conversation.”

  “Did you tell him about having the meeting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you tell him about our conversation?” Jesse said.

  “No,” she said. “The disgusting little pervert. How could he do this to me. I’ve tried, Jesus, I’ve tried. I wanted so much for this to work.”

  “You love him?” Molly said.

  “Half his female grad students were in love with him,” Hannah said. “Literary, masculine, adventurous. They thought he was Hemingway. And he cultivated it. Safari jackets, aviator glasses. He even used to have a beard.”

  “And you were the one that got him.”

  “Lucky me,” Hannah said.

  “Do me a favor,” Jesse said. “Next time he calls, tell him about this conversation. I want him to know that you know, and I know.”

  “I can’t talk to him anymore,” she said. “He makes me want to vomit.”

  “It’ll help us finish this,” Jesse said. “He hasn’t hurt anybody yet, but he might. And he might miscalculate and get caught and somebody’s husband will kill him.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “After what he’s done to me? Fuck him.”

  “Care about the women he may traumatize, care about the husband who might kill him and have to live with that for the rest of his life.”

  She looked at Jesse for a while as if he puzzled her.

  Then she said, “I hadn’t thought of it from that angle.”

  “Tell him enough so he knows we know,” Jesse said.

  Hannah nodded.

  “How the hell am I going to write my dissertation?” she said.

  66

  “MY MOM said I should write you some kind of thank-you note,” Missy Clark said when she came into Jesse’s office. “But I said to myself, No, that sucks. I don’t even know what to say. So I came to see you.”

  “Good,” Jesse said, and gestured at a chair.

  “I was right about you,” she said. “You’re nice.”

  “I am,” Jesse said.

  “When I saw you at the school, I thought, He’s a nice man.”

  Jesse smiled.

  “And you were right,” Jesse said.

  “Well,” Missy said. “And don’t you know it.”

  “I do,” Jesse said.

  “My mom and dad are getting a divorce,” Missy said.

  Jesse nodded.

  “No more wife-swapping, “Missy said. “My mom promised.”

  “How’s your brother?” Jesse said.

  “He’s all screwed up, but my mom says he’ll get over it.”

  Jesse nodded.

  “And you?” he said.

  “I’m okay,” Missy said. “As long as my dad stays the hell away from us.”

  “He will,” Jesse said.

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “Come and tell me,” Jesse said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Because?” Jesse said.

  “You are the chief of police,” Missy said.

  “Exactly,” Jesse said.

  “I heard Mrs. Ingersoll isn’t going to be principal anymore,” Missy said.

  “I think she’s taken a leave of absence,” Jesse said.

  “And I heard she was getting divorced,” Missy said.

  “I heard that, too,” Jesse said.

  “Did somebody really take her picture with her clothes off?”

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  “Was it the Night Hawk?”

  “Confidential police information,” Jesse said.

  “Oh, shit,” she said.

  “Who am I?” Jesse said.

  “I know,” Missy said. “I know, the chief of police.”

  Jesse inclined his head.

  “But I like you anyway,” Missy said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Why would anybody want a picture of Old Lady Ingersoll undressed?” Missy said.

  “Different people need different things,” Jesse said.

  “I bet she looks icky,” Missy said, “anyway.”

  Jesse made no comment.

  “Would you want to see her undressed?” Missy said.

  “I don’t think she’s unattractive,” Jesse said.

  “But would you want to see her?”

  Jesse smiled.

  “I just serve and protect,” Jesse said. “I don’t have likes or dislikes.”

  “You like my dad?” Missy said.

  Jesse smiled again.

  “No,” he said.

  “See,” she said.

  “You like him?” Jesse said.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I guess I should, you know, he’s my dad. You’re supposed to love your dad.”

  “There’s no right or wrong to it,” Jesse said. “You have no control over who he is. But you have the right to control how you feel about him.”

  She nodded.

  “If I don’t love him, I don’t love him,” Missy said.

  “It might be more complicated than that,” Jesse said. “But for now, it is what it is, and it’s not your fault.”

  She nodded. They both sat for a moment without speaking.

  Then Missy said, “Well, I just wanted to thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  She stood and went to the door and stopped and looked at him. Jesse waited.

  “I’m a little scared,” she said. “I mean, my dad’s gone. My mom says she’s gonna be different. My little brother is weird. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “I’m here,” Jesse said. “Come see me anytime.”

  She nodded and looked as if she wanted to say more. But she didn’t. She just smiled at him and left.

  67

  Jesse, you nosy bastard!

  Proud of yourself? Because you think you know who I am? Nobody really knows who I am. Maybe not even I know who I am. Am I me? Or am I Mr. O? Or am I two people at the same time? Can you figure that one out, Jesse? You may have to. You had no business telling my wife about me. She told me you showed her my letter. She said she never wanted to speak with me again. I guess it can get lonely at the top, huh, Jesse? Or the people in the swingers’ group. They’ll gossip among themselves. They’ll compare notes. They’ll figure out who I am, and then it will be all over town. And my life is ruined. I’ll get fired from my job. I won’t be able to get another one anywhere. Academia is a closed club. The Mr. O rap will follow me everywhere I go. What I have to do, I know, is leave town and take Mr. O with me, and start over. I’ll change my name. Maybe I’ll be a professional hunter, or take people into the Grand Canyon on
muleback. You know who I am, but you can’t find me and I’m about to disappear. Better move fast. I’ll give you a little help. Before I go I’m going to uncover one more secret, photograph it, and send you a copy. My farewell card, so to speak. You might be surprised when you find out who it is. Here’s a hint. She’s someone you’re close to!!! So stay alert, my friend. It’s your last chance. . . . And like they used to say in the movies, I WON’T BE TAKEN ALIVE!

  The Night Hawk

  68

  JESSE SAT in his office with Molly and Suit. The door was closed.

  “We got anything on where Seth Ralston is?” Jesse said.

  “Haven’t found him. Haven’t located his car. Moll says he used an ATM in the Bay State Mall to withdraw five hundred dollars, and another one in a hotel lobby in Cambridge, to take out another five hundred dollars.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” Suit said.

  “A mall on the highway, and a hotel lobby in Cambridge,” Jesse said.

  “That tell you anything?” Suit said.

  “Only that he’s got a car.”

  “Which we already knew,” Suit said.

  “You got his plate numbers on the wire,” Jesse said.

  “You bet,” Suit said.

  “Moll?” Jesse said. “Anything to add?”

  “Nope. No credit-card activity. No bank activity except the two ATMs. No other withdrawals, no checks written,” Molly said.

  “I thought he’d be easier to find,” Jesse said.

  “He seems to have given it some thought,” Molly said.

  “Smart guy,” Suit said.

  “For a professor,” Jesse said.

  He handed out photocopies of the last letter from the Night Hawk.

  “God,” Suit said. “The poor sonovabitch is crazy, isn’t he.”

  “You figured out who this person close to you is?” Molly said. “Does he know about Jenn?”

  “I don’t know how he would,” Jesse said. “And even if he did, how would he know where she is. Hell, I don’t know where she is.”

  “You been seeing Sunny Randall again,” Suit said.

  “Couple of times,” Jesse said, “at the Gray Gull. He’d have to have seen us there, ID’ed her, find out where she lives. Seems like a long shot to me.”

  “Yes,” Molly said. “To me, too.”

  “How about Mrs. Ingersoll?” Suit said. “He’s probably mad at her, anyway, for saying he did something he didn’t do.”

  “Possible,” Jesse said.

  “Marcy Campbell is an even longer shot than Sunny Randall,” Molly said.

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  “You have a thought?” Molly said.

  “I have a theory,” Jesse said. “If you were Seth the Night Hawk, and you didn’t know anything much about me except that I was chief of police, and you began to sort of watch me, ask around about me, that sort of thing. What woman would be most frequently and closely associated with me?”

  “It can’t be Rita Fiore,” Suit said.

  Jesse shook his head.

  He sat quietly while Molly and Suit thought about it. They didn’t think of anyone.

  “It doesn’t necessarily have to be a romantic relationship,” Jesse said. “What woman do I simply spend the most time with?”

  “Me,” Molly said.

  Suit turned to look at her, then back at Jesse.

  “Molly?”

  “That would be my theory,” Jesse said.

  “I think so,” Molly said.

  Unconsciously, Suit’s hand rested lightly on his gun butt.

  “You think he would actually take a run at Molly?” Suit said.

  “She’s often with me. She’s a woman. She has a secret.”

  “And a damn good-looking one,” Molly said.

  Suit flinched.

  “Jesus, Moll,” he said.

  She smiled at him.

  “We won’t let it happen,” Jesse said, more for Suit than for Molly.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Suit said. “Anytime she’s not in the office with you, I’ll be right there.”

  Molly was shaking her head.

  “I appreciate your concern, but you guys aren’t thinking about it right,” she said.

  “What’s the right way?” Jesse said.

  “We want this to happen, it’s our shot at this creep, maybe, if we believe him, our last one.”

  “You want to be bait,” Jesse said.

  “No,” Suit said.

  “Yes,” Molly said. “I’m a cop. I’m not the girl who makes coffee and pats down the female perps. I’m a cop. I have a gun, and Mace. I know something about self-defense. And I’m pretty sure I’d have backup.”

  “Molly,” Suit said. “For crissakes . . .”

  Jesse put his hand up to stop Suit.

  “She’s right,” Jesse said.

  Molly looked at him.

  “You came around pretty easy,” she said.

  “When you’re right, you’re right,” Jesse said.

  “You devious sonovabitch,” Molly said. “You knew I’d say that, didn’t you?”

  “I like a volunteer,” Jesse said.

  69

  “MY HUSBAND is fishing with his brother,” Molly said.

  They had moved to the squad room so Jesse could walk back and forth as they talked and write things on the chalkboard.

  “Where?” Jesse said.

  “Trawler’s going up off George’s Bank,” she said.

  “How long are they usually out?”

  “Till the boat’s full,” Molly said. “Couple weeks, anyway.”

  “He’s not carpentering anymore?” Suit said.

  “Does that, too, “Molly said. “Does a lot of things. Mostly what he wants to.”

  “Like what?” Suit said.

  “Carpenters, works in the boatyard, fishes with his brother, does some lobstering, crews now and then on one of the yachts.”

  “Sounds like a pretty good life,” Suit said. He looked sideways at Jesse and grinned. “No boss.”

  “Michael couldn’t work a regular job,” Molly said. “He’d eventually get fired, or punch out the boss.”

  “And then get fired,” Suit said.

  Molly shrugged.

  “I’m the one with the steady job,” she said.

  “You talk to Mike while he’s gone?” Jesse said.

  “Cell phone,” Molly said. “We usually talk every day.”

  “You going to tell him about this?”

  “I don’t know,” Molly said. “He deserves to know, but he’ll worry, and he’s a hundred miles at sea.”

  Jesse nodded.

  “You’ll decide,” he said.

  “Yes,” Molly said.

  “If you do decide to tell him, be sure he keeps it to himself. He’s probably not the only guy with a cell phone.”

  “And word gets around,” Molly said. “I know.”

  “How ’bout the kids?” he said.

  “Get the bus at the end of the street at ten past eight,” Molly said. “Come home at three-thirty, except for my oldest, who usually doesn’t get home until supper.”

  “What are we going to do about them?” Jesse said.

  “They’ll have to be covered,” Molly said. “That’s my only rule in this.”

  Jesse was looking out the squad-room window.

  “Can they go visit somebody for a while?” he said.

  “For a day or two, sure,” Molly said. “My sister lives in Newburyport and they get along with their cousins.”

  “This may be more than a day or two,” Jesse said.

  He turned from the window and walked the length of the room and leaned a shoulder against the wall next to the door.

  “I know,” Molly said. “And they can’t miss that much school, and, frankly, I won’t send them away for that long. I miss them.”

  Jesse nodded. He walked back to the window. He looked out.

  “Okay,” he said. “Either of you go
t a contact at the town paper?”

  Suit smiled.

  “Used to date the editor,” he said.

  “And she’s forgiven you?” Jesse said.

  “She’s grateful as hell,” Suit said.

  “Good,” Jesse said. “We want to plant a story.”

  “What story?” Suit said.

  Jesse turned and walked halfway down the room and leaned on the conference table, his palms flat on the tabletop.

  “We’ll work that out in a minute,” Jesse said. “Moll, tell me about your neighborhood.”

  70

  IT WAS a shabby room in a shabby motel on the highway, where most people stayed only a few hours. But it had a bathroom and a bed, and the sheets seemed clean. The Night Hawk sat on the edge of the bed with his laptop, reading The Paradise Town Crier online.

  PARADISE MOM BALANCES FAMILY AND POLICE

  Michael Crane recently shipped out for George’s Bank on his brother Bob’s trawler, Sea Crane. Mike leaves behind his wife, Molly, who is a full-time mother, wife, and police officer. And with her husband absent periodically for weeks at a time, Molly must juggle things even more adroitly. “Chief Stone has been great,” Molly says. “He gives me the freedom to do what I need to do as a mother. He has arranged my schedule so that I am home every morning to get the kids off to school and do the housework.” Molly Crane grew up in Paradise, as Molly Mulherne. She met her future husband in the fourth grade, and, she says, they have been together ever since. . . .

  There was a picture of Molly Crane that looked as if it was taken from her high school yearbook. She didn’t look that different, he thought, but different enough for his purposes. He’d studied her long enough and closely enough to see it. The story went on, and he read it to the end. The writing was amateurish, of course, like the writing in all those small-town local papers. And the information was good. He had at least a two-week window to make his final discovery in Paradise. For a moment he considered whether this was a plant, and Jesse was trying to trap him. No, he decided. Old Jess isn’t that smart. Time, he thought, to hop on the bus, and reconnoiter.