High Profile js-6

by Robert B. Parker

  “Christ, no,” Suit said.

  “Why not?”

  “Too much bullshit,” Suit said.

  “So who would want that kind of a job?” Jesse said.

  “A bullshitter,” Suit said.

  Jesse smiled at him.

  “If you’re good with a hammer,” Jesse said, “you look for a nail.”

  “Wow,” Suit said. “No wonder you made chief.”

  2 1 6

  49

  Jenn had dressed her apartment for Jesse’s arrival. The bed was made with a dressy spread and ornamental pillows. She had lighted candles, put out crystal, filled the silver ice bucket.

  She hugged him when he came in.

  “Oh boy,” she said. “I feel so safe with you. I mean, Sunny’s great, and Spike, but I never feel with anyone the way I feel with you.”

  “That’s probably true for me, too,” Jesse said.

  “With me?” Jenn said. “Safe?”

  “Something,” Jesse said.

  R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

  They stood with their arms around each other for a moment, then stepped apart.

  “What’s in the envelope?” Jenn said.

  “I’ll show you in a while,” Jesse said.

  Jenn brought him a drink and one for herself and sat on one corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her. Jesse sat at the other end. Jenn raised her glass to him.

  “Well,” she said. “Here we are.”

  “Yes.”

  “No matter what happens,” Jenn said, “somehow we keep blundering along, connected to each other.”

  “I know,” Jesse said.

  “What is wrong with us, Jesse?”

  “Different things, maybe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe what’s wrong with me isn’t what’s wrong with you.”

  “And yet,” Jenn said, “here we are.”

  Jesse nodded. He picked up the brown envelope from the coffee table and took out two eight-by-ten photographs. Enlargements of the pictures Sunny had found. He put them down on the table side by side in front of Jenn. Jenn leaned a little forward to look at the pictures.

  The moment she saw the photograph, Jenn said, “Oh!”

  Jesse waited.

  “What are these pictures?” Jenn said.

  “You and a guy,” Jesse said.

  “Where’d you get them?”

  Jesse shrugged.

  2 1 8

  H I G H P R O F I L E

  “I don’t know this man,” Jenn said.

  “The guy with his arm around you?” Jesse said. “This guy? With your head on his chest? Him?”

  “Oh, Jesse, don’t be jealous,” Jenn said. “You know how I am.”

  “If I knew how you were for sure,” Jesse said, “maybe my life would be simpler.”

  “I don’t even know that man, we were just at some beach party somewhere. Just kidding around.”

  “His name is Timothy Patrick Lloyd.”

  “Could be,” Jenn said.

  “You know him?”

  “Not really,” Jenn said.

  “His e-mail address is in your computer,” Jesse said.

  “My computer?”

  “Tpat at cybercop-dot-com,” Jesse said.

  “Goddamn you, you searched my apartment.”

  Jesse shook his head.

  “I didn’t give you a key so you’d come snooping around,”

  Jenn said.

  Jesse didn’t speak.

  “You bastard,” Jenn said.

  Jesse said nothing.

  “I had a nice dinner ready,” she said.

  She began to cry. Jesse took in some air and sat. Jenn sobbed. Jesse waited.

  After a time, Jenn said to Jesse, “Give me a napkin or something.”

  2 1 9

  R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

  Jesse handed her a cocktail napkin from the pretty arrangement on the coffee table. Jenn patted at her eyes with the napkin.

  “It was going to be a nice evening,” Jenn said. Jesse nodded.

  “I don’t have many of those anymore,” Jenn said. Jesse nodded at the pictures on the coffee table.

  “That’s your stalker, Jenn.”

  “I don’t—”

  Jesse put up his hand as if stopping traffic.

  “We both know it,” he said. “Did he rape you?”

  Jenn teared up again, and put her face in her hands and shook her head.

  “No, he didn’t rape you?” Jesse said.

  Jenn slid down the couch and pressed against Jesse with her face against his chest. He put an arm around her. She cried quietly.

  “Did he rape you?” Jesse said.

  She didn’t answer.

  After a time, Jesse said, “There’s nothing so bad I can’t hear it, Jenn.”

  His voice was hoarse.

  “We had sex, when I didn’t want to,” Jenn said. Her voice was muffled against his chest.

  “If that were rape,” Jesse said, “most of the women in America would have a case.”

  Jesse could feel her head nod slightly against his chest. 2 2 0

  H I G H P R O F I L E

  “Did he rape you?” Jesse said.

  “You’ll never . . .”

  “There’s no never, Jenn. I don’t know what’s wrong with us. I don’t know what we’re doing, and I have no goddamned clue where we are going. But whatever and wherever, there’s no never between us.”

  She raised her face a little from his chest. Her eyes were red, and her eye makeup was streaking.

  “Is there an always?” she said.

  Jesse looked down at her. The question hung in the silent room like blue smoke.

  “Yes,” Jesse said. “I don’t know what kind of always, or what kind of life it implies, but yes. There will always be an always between us.”

  The blue smoke that was only a metaphor seemed to dissolve. Jenn put her head back against his chest. She stopped crying. They were quiet.

  Then she said softly, “No. He didn’t rape me.”

  Jesse patted her shoulder.

  “I told him I’d been an actress. He was impressed,” Jenn said. “He told me he’d love to use me in some of his marketing and promotion venues. Public appearances, modeling, it would have been a wonderful career boost.”

  Jesse continued to pat her shoulder. Jenn’s voice was tranquil, as if she were talking of a happy childhood.

  “So we had a little fling,” she said.

  Jesse nodded.

  2 2 1

  R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

  “But nothing worked out much. He didn’t ever seem to have the right spot for me in what he was doing . . . and he wasn’t that much fun.”

  They were quiet while Jenn remembered how much fun Tim Lloyd hadn’t been.

  “There’s a lot of men like him,” she said. “A surprising number of them. They’re eager for sex, but not very good at it. They just want to sort of . . .” She paused, aware of Jesse.

  “Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,” Jesse said.

  “They’re mostly interested in their own experience,” Jenn said. “And they’re just not very adroit.”

  “So sex with Tim Lloyd wasn’t worth it for its own sake,”

  Jesse said.

  “God,” Jenn said. “That sounds ugly.”

  “It is what it is,” Jesse said.

  “It wasn’t working out,” Jenn said. “The last time we were together, I told him that it wasn’t.”

  “And?”

  “He wanted to know why, so I told him.”

  “Including the part about not being adroit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ouch,” Jesse said.

  “He asked,” Jenn said.

  “And you were sick of him.”

  “Yes,” Jenn said. “He said he wasn’t going to take that answer. He said it was my fault because I never told him. He 2 2 2

  H I G H P R O F I L E

  said he wanted to ha
ve sex again and I should show him what I wanted.”

  Jesse felt the muscles tighten in his back and shoulders. Jenn felt them, too.

  “Are you all right?” she said.

  “There’s nothing I can’t hear, Jenn. It needs to be said.”

  “I told him no. I told him we were talking about impulse and emotion, not, for God’s sake, training.”

  “If he had to ask . . .” Jesse said.

  “Exactly,” Jenn said. “He was furious. I could tell he wanted to force me. But he was too spent. He wouldn’t be able to erect, and we both knew it. Tim never had a fast recovery.”

  “So he left?”

  “Yes, but he said he wasn’t accepting what I said, and that I’d be seeing him again.”

  “So there was the threat of rape.”

  “That’s what I heard,” Jenn said.

  “And then he began to stalk you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were scared and came to me claiming you had been raped.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you think I’d kill him?”

  “No, oh God no, Jesse. I was just scared, and when I’m scared I run to you.”

  “And you didn’t identify him as the stalker because you didn’t want to get caught in the lie.”

  2 2 3

  R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

  She nodded her head against his chest.

  “That was one reason.”

  “And you didn’t want people to know the nature of your relationship,” Jesse said.

  Jenn nodded again.

  “I’d been fucking him as a career move,” she said.

  “You were in a box,” Jesse said. “You didn’t want to be unprotected, and you didn’t want him confronted.”

  “Yes.”

  “So what did you think was going to happen?”

  “I didn’t know. I was paralyzed. I just denied everything.”

  “I know,” Jesse said.

  “You remember that time in L.A. when I found the scotch in the glove compartment.”

  “Yes,” Jesse said. “I understand.”

  They sat quietly. Jenn had stopped crying.

  After a time, Jenn said, “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask Sunny to stay with you until I figure it out.”

  Again they were quiet.

  Then Jenn said, “I’ve never even asked you about that murder case in Paradise.”

  “Coming down all over me,” Jesse said.

  “You didn’t need me to add in my own troubles,” Jenn said.

  “I did,” Jesse said. “I do. I just need a little time to figure everything out.”

  “Will you tell Sunny?”

  2 2 4

  H I G H P R O F I L E

  “Yes.”

  Jenn nodded.

  “She’ll think I’m awful,” Jenn said.

  “Sunny doesn’t make that kind of judgment,” Jesse said.

  “Do you love her?”

  “Sort of,” Jesse said.

  “More than me.”

  Jesse took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Less,” he said.

  Jenn nodded again.

  “What’s going to become of us, Jesse?”

  “God knows,” Jesse said.

  “No,” Jenn said. “I don’t think He does.”

  2 2 5

  50

  Suitcase Simpson came in with his notebook and sat down in front of Jesse’s desk.

  “Master detective,” he said.

  “You enjoy Baltimore?” Jesse said.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty cool. They got like this huge Quincy Market on the harbor. Lotta places to get crab cakes.”

  “You detect anything?” Jesse said.

  “Besides the crab cakes?” Suit said. “Yeah. I did.”

  Jesse tipped his chair back and waited.

  “I went to the Baltimore County police, and talked with a nice woman in the personnel department.”

  H I G H P R O F I L E

  “You get to her right away?”

  “Pretty quick. I turned on the charm.”

  “Wow,” Jesse said.

  “It helps in detective work, you know, if you’re charming.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Jesse said.

  “Anyway, when Lutz worked there the beneficiary of his life insurance was Lorraine Pilarcik. She was on his medical insurance, too.”

  “And what was her relation to him?” Jesse said.

  “He listed her as his wife.”

  “Lorraine,” Jesse said.

  “It gets better,” Suit said.

  “Good.”

  “I got his address during the time he worked there and went and talked with people in his old neighborhood,” Suit said. “There were three, four people that remembered both of them. They all called her Lorrie.”

  “Tell me you showed them the picture of Lorrie Weeks?”

  Jesse said.

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “It was her.”

  “Suit,” Jesse said, “you’ll probably be chief of detectives.”

  “When we have a detective unit.”

  “Immediately after that,” Jesse said.

  “They hedged a little. You know what license photos are like. And they knew her like fifteen years ago. But they all thought it was her.”

  2 2 7

  R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

  “Happy marriage?” Jesse said.

  “As far as anyone can remember,” Suit said.

  “When did they get divorced?”

  “Nobody knew they were divorced.”

  “When did they leave the old neighborhood?” Jesse said.

  “Hard to pin it down, you know. But the consensus was late eighties, early nineties.”

  “You find any records of divorce?”

  “Nope,” Suit said. “Not in Baltimore. Got a marriage license issued to Walton Weeks and Lorrie Pilarcik, and a marriage announcement from The Baltimore Sun. August twenty-sixth, 1990.”

  “They could have divorced elsewhere,” Jesse said.

  “I thought of that,” Suit said.

  “Okay,” Jesse said, “take your time. Enjoy it.”

  “I said to myself, Why would you not get divorced locally? ”

  “Because maybe they had moved to another state?” Jesse said.

  “Maybe, or, I thought to myself, maybe they’re looking for a quickie. And where can you get a quickie divorce?”

  “Dover-Foxcroft, Maine?” Jesse said.

  “Las Vegas,” Suit said. “It did no harm to check.”

  “And?”

  “Lorraine Pilarcik and Conrad Lutz got a divorce on August fifteenth, after six weeks of residency in Vegas,”

  Suit said.

  “Eleven days before she married Walton Weeks,” Jesse said.

  2 2 8

  H I G H P R O F I L E

  “Makes your head hurt a little,” Suit said.

  “It does. Did Weeks steal Lutz’s wife and continue to em ploy him as a bodyguard?”

  “Maybe Lutz is a really forgiving guy,” Suit said.

  “Maybe,” Jesse said.

  2 2 9

  51

  Jesse came into Sunny’s loft at nine p.m. Rosie jumped down off Sunny’s bed and hustled down the loft to see him. He picked her up and patted her stomach, and got a lap on the nose, before he put her down.

  “Drink?” Sunny said.

  “Sure.”

  They sat in her window bay with their drinks.

  “Here’s what’s going on with Jenn,” Jesse said. As Jesse talked, Rosie came over and stared up at Sunny and yapped. Still focused on Jesse’s recital, Sunny shifted a

  H I G H P R O F I L E

  little in the chair to make room, and Rosie jumped up and wiggled around until she was comfortable.

  When Jesse finished, Sunny shook her head.

  “Poor thing,” she said.

  Jes
se nodded.

  “She seeing a shrink these days?” Sunny said.

  “She has,” Jesse said. “I don’t know if she is seeing one now.”

  “She should,” Sunny said. “I know someone.”

  “Not everybody can do it,” Jesse said.

  “She should be able to,” Sunny said. “Maybe I’ll talk to her about it.”

  Jesse shrugged.

  “What would you like me to do?” Sunny said.

  “I have to go to New York,” Jesse said. “If you could keep her together until I get back.”

  “Would you like me, or Spike, to deal with Lloyd?”

  Sunny said.

  “No,” Jesse said. “I’ll do that when I can. Just keep him away from her.”

  Sunny got Jesse another scotch, and poured herself more white wine.

  “You think Lloyd is dangerous?” Sunny said.

  “I doubt it. Usually stalking is all stalkers do.”

  “Except when they do more,” Sunny said.

  “Except then,” Jesse said.

  “We’ll be there,” Sunny said.

  2 3 1

  R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

  “Thank you.”

  “How’s the double murder going?”

  “It’s starting to move, I think.”

  “That why you’re going to New York?”

  “Yes.”

  Jesse rattled the ice in his glass. Sunny sipped her wine. Rosie looked out from her spot in the chair, in back of Sunny’s hip.

  “What are you going to do, Jesse?” Sunny asked.

  “About Jenn?”

  “Yes,” Sunny said. “Of course about Jenn.”

  “I’ll take Lloyd off her back,” Jesse said.

  “I’m sure you will,” Sunny said. “And then?”

  Jesse drank some of his scotch and tilted his head back with his eyes closed while it eased down his throat.

  “If I said to you,” Jesse said, “ ‘Sunny, will you marry me,’

  what would you say?”

  “I’d say it was a lovely offer,” she said.

  “And would you say yes?”

  Sunny was silent for a time.

  Then she said, “No.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I can’t quite let go of Richie.”

  Jesse nodded. He drank the rest of his scotch and put the empty glass down on the little table.

  “And so it goes,” Jesse said.

  2 3 2

  52

  Lorrie Weeks still lived in the Village, in the condo she had shared with Walton Weeks, in a shiny new skyscraper that had gone up at the far-west end of Perry Street with a big view of the Hudson River. Jesse stood with Suit outside the building.