Trouble in Paradise (18 page)

“Maybe she is.”

Suitcase was getting older every day, Jesse thought.

“Belson got any thoughts on what Macklin might be doing in Paradise?”

“Nothing legal. Belson’s been chasing him for years, says he knows him better than he knows his wife. Says he’s a crook because he’s good at it and he likes the hours, but also because he’s a thrill junkie.”

Jesse nodded.

“Sorta like you said about him flirting with you,” Suitcase said.

“Sort of,” Jesse said.

“Belson says anything he’d be happy to help anyway he can.”

Jesse nodded.

“And he said another thing,” Suitcase looked a little uneasy and braced himself with a mouthful of Boston cream donut.

“He said if we got a chance to arrest Macklin and he were, ah, killed resisting, that wouldn’t be a bad thing. He said it would be a very efficient thing.”

Suitcase took another bite of donut.

“He asked me to tell you that too,” Suitcase said.

“Sounds like Macklin has been his hobby too long,” Jesse said.

“I asked him if it was personal,” Suitcase said.

“And he looked kind of mad when I asked him, but all he said was that one of the hostages Macklin killed was twenty-two years old and pregnant.”

Jesse nodded and finished his coffee.

“Well,” Jesse said, “we’ll keep it in mind.”

FORTY-SIX

When he got back to the station, Molly was waiting for him.

“Talk, Jesse, alone?”

“Sure.”

They went into his office and closed the door. Molly was carrying a small notebook.

“You tell your ex-wife about Mrs. Hopkins trying to get you fired?” Molly said.

“Christ, what did she do?” Jesse said.

Molly smiled without any pleasure.

“She assaulted Mrs. Hopkins.”

Jesse leaned back in his chair and stared at Molly without speaking. He was thrilled that Jenn cared enough about him to do that. He was annoyed that he would have to deal with it. He was depressed that Jenn was still so far out of control that she would assault someone. He was amused at the image of her in full assault.

“Where is she now?” Jesse said.

“Down the hall,” Molly said.

“Cell number one.”

Jesse nodded slowly. Molly couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Tell me about it,” he said.

“Well,” Molly said.

“Kay Hopkins at the women’s Republican breakfast at the Village Room. She was supposed to give a report on her committee’s findings about citizen participation in town government. It was in The Shopper’s News, maybe that’s where Jenn saw it. Anyway, she shows up. And when Kay Hopkins gets up to give her report, Jenn gets up and says,” Molly looked down at her notes,“

”Before you give your report, maybe you ought to explain to these ladies why you are interfering with the police department in the performance of its lawful duties.“” Jesse leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

”Lawful duties,“ he said softly.

Molly was still reading from her notes.

“And Kay Hopkins says, ”The chair has not recognized you.

Please sit down and be quiet.“

“Uh-oh!” Jesse said softly.

“You got that right,” Molly said.

“Jenn calls her a bitch. Mrs. Hopkins says something like ”How dare you talk to me that way?“

And Jenn marches up and whacks her across the face and everybody starts screaming and pushing and shoving and people are trying to help Mrs. Hopkins and somebody calls us. Peter Perkins was there because he was in the nearest cruiser, and when he got there he saw it was a woman and asked me to come.”

“And?”

Molly tried to control a smile.

“And it wasn’t a pretty sight. Jenn had torn most of Mrs. Hopkins’ blouse off and given her a bloody nose. Mrs. Hopkins has got blood all over her skirt and her bra, which looked, may I add, as if it had been laundered a couple times too often. Jenn’s got blood all over her blouse. As far as I know she’s not hurt. It’s Hopkins’ blood, I’m pretty sure. There were two or three women trying to hold onto Jenn, who was kicking people and, as I arrived, was actually head-butting Gertrude Richardson, who’s the chairwoman or whatever they call her. Peter Perkins wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do and looked so grateful when I showed up. I thought he was going to kiss me.”

“You get her calmed down?”

“No, not really. Peter and I had to pretty well wrestle her down, and I had to cuff her before we could get her under control. Thing is neither Peter nor I recognized her at first. I seen her on TV a couple times after Suitcase told me she was your ex-wife and she was a weather girl.”

“Curiosity,” Jesse said.

“Absolutely,” Molly said.

“But, you know, her hair was mussed and her shirttail was hanging out and one of her high heels was broken off and she didn’t look the same. But man can she swear.

She called Mrs. Hopkins stuff I haven’t even heard around the station. And I’ve heard a lot around the station.”

“Jenn was always a good swearer,” Jesse said.

“She tell you she was my wife-ex-wife?”

“Yes. When we got her in the cruiser and were bringing her back. The restaurant is going to bring some sort of charge once their attorney tells them what it is. I think she broke a table and certainly some crockery. I can talk to the owner. I know her. I think she’ll back off when she finds out the whole story.”

“Mrs. Hopkins planning to press charges?” Jesse said.

“Oh, I imagine,” Molly said.

“And she probably won’t back off.”

Jesse nodded as much to himself as to Molly.

“Be a surprise if she did,” he said.

“How is Jenn now?”

“Scared I think,” Molly said.

“But still mad as hell.”

“She’s sort of a television celebrity,” Jesse said.

“The press showed up yet?”

“Not yet.”

“She want to see me?” Jesse said.

“Yes.”

Jesse took in a long breath.

“Okay, I’ll go down and talk to her. Alone.”

“Of course,” Molly said.

She left the office. Jesse sat for a moment. Then he took a bottle of Irish whisky from his desk, poured some into a paper cup, looked at it for a moment, and then drank it. He crumpled up the paper cup and threw it into the waste basket. He put the bottle back in the desk drawer. Then he stood and walked down the corridor toward the holding cells.

FORTY-SEVEN

Macklin left the real estate office at 9:35
and walked toward the guard shack at the bridge fifty yards away. Crow walked with him. J. T. McGonigle, who had been there the first time Macklin came to Stiles Island, was on duty again. He was not cut from Captain Billups’ pattern.

He was what the captain considered “a civilian employee.” While he had on the tan regulation uniform shirt, he wore no hat, and he carried no weapon. If there was trouble, he called the patrol.

Macklin spoke to him as he reached the shack.

“How you doing, Mac?”

McGonigle put his clipboard down. There were no cars coming in either direction.

“Good, Mr. Smith, whaddya need?”

“Just wanted to say good-bye,” Macklin said and shot McGonigle in the forehead.

He stepped away as McGonigle started to fall. Crow stepped in and caught McGonigle on his shoulder and picked him up.

Fran, carrying a briefcase and a folding sign, came from the real estate office as soon as he heard the shot. As Crow carried J. T. McGonigle away, Fran, wearing the tan shirt of the dead Michael Deering, placed the sign in the roadway by the gate and slipped into the guard shack.

Fran took a small remote control mechanism that looked like a garage door opener from the briefcase and put it on the counter beside the clipboard. He brought out a cellular phone and put it beside the remote. He took a big stainless steel Ruger .357 Magnum revolver with a walnut handle from the briefcase and laid it beside the phone. Finally, he placed a pair of binoculars beside the Ruger.

Crow reached the real estate office and bent forward and allowed McGonigle’s dead body to slide to the ground, where it was concealed by two decorative cedar shrubs behind the building. Then he went back into the real estate office and waited for Macklin.

JD was sitting at the desk, toying with two cellular phones on the desk in front of him, turning them idly, in slow circles.

On the couch Marcy was trying not to look at anything. Nice looking woman, Crow thought. Macklin came back into the real estate office.

“Okay,” Macklin said.

“We got the bridge secured. JD, you ready to kibosh the phones?”

“Five minutes,” JD said, “from whenever you say.”

“After you do it,” Crow said, “what do I hear, I try to use the phone?”

“Busy signal,” JD said, “either way. Calling in, calling out. People call, get a busy signal, hang up. Be a while before anyone catches on that something’s wrong.

”Every minute we can buy, helps us,“ Macklin said.

He looked at his watch.

”I got seven minutes before ten. Crow and I are going to start rounding people up at ten-fifteen. I want the phone lines fucked by then.“

”Easy,“ JD said.

”Once you fuck the phone lines, you can cut Marcy loose. But keep her here. She wants her purse, give it to her. I’ve already checked it. She can go in the lav and lock the door, she wants. There’s no window.“

”Be easier to leave her like she is,“ JD said.

”Then I don’t have to watch her.“

”We want you to do it our way,“ Macklin said.

”Don’t we, Crow?“

”We do,“ Crow said and held JD’s look until JD looked away.

JD shrugged as if Crow didn’t scare him, which Crow did. And both of them knew it.

”Sure thing,“ JD said.

Macklin picked up one of the cell phones and followed Crow out the door.

FORTY-EIGHT

We’ve got to stop meeting this way”
Jenn said when Jesse came in.

She was sitting on the cot, with her feet tucked up under her. Jesse left the cell door open and leaned against the wall opposite her. The cell was so small there was barely any space between them.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I couldn’t stand it,” Jenn said.

“It’s not fair-that bitch trying to take you down. You’re so good, Jesse.”

“Thank you, Jenn.”

“It’s the truth. They’re lucky to have you. She should be grateful. They all should be grateful.”

“Actually Jenn, I’m a little grateful to be here. I almost flushed myself in L.A.”

“I know. I helped with that.”

“Maybe not as much as you think.”

“Have I fucked you up again?” Jenn said.

Jesse smiled.

“God, Jenn, I don’t know. I mean, thank you for caring and for standing up for me. But now you’re in my jail, and I have no idea what to do with you.”

“You could just let me go.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you did, then Mrs. Bitch Face could accuse you of favoritism.”

“Yeah.”

“What would happen if I weren’t me?” Jenn asked.

“You’d call your lawyer, and your lawyer would arrange your release.”

“I don’t have a lawyer.”

“I could ask Abby Taylor,” Jesse said.

“Didn’t you fuck her?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jesse decided not to mention how recently. Jenn was shaking her head.

“No. I can’t have her.”

“Station got a lawyer?” Jesse asked.

“Yes. I suppose they’ll have him out here as soon as they get wind of it. I may have made myself some trouble at the station.”

Jesse smiled.

“Might be your big break,” Jesse said.

“Jenn Stone, the fighting weather girl?”

“I better tell the station,” Jenn said.

“Can I use your phone to call the news director?”

“Sure. You’re free to go, Jenn.”

“Won’t you get in trouble, just letting me go like that?”

“If I do, I’ll deal with it when it comes. I’m not going to lock you up.”

Jenn sat for a moment without moving, and Jesse realized she was crying.

“Oh, shit,” Jesse said.

“Here we are together, talking in a jail cell, Jesse,” Jenn said.

“It’s just so…”

“Not the way we first planned it,” Jesse said.

“God, I’ve made such a goddamned mess of everything.”

“It’s not over,” Jesse said, “until it’s over.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we’re working on it, Jenn. When we’re through working on it, we’ll find out if it’s a mess or not.”

“I don’t ever want to stop working on it,” Jenn said.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” Jesse said.

“But I don’t know. I don’t know if I can ever be what you want me to be.”

“I don’t have any big rules about what you should be, Jenn.

Mostly I’m opposed to sharing you.”

“I don’t know,” Jenn said.

“I just don’t know.”

“You will,” Jesse said.

“I only know I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jesse said.

“I’m going to wait it out.”

“God, I hope it’s not a long wait,” Jenn said.

“You seeing a shrink these days?”

“Dr. St. Claire gave me the name of two people-one in Chestnut Hill, one in Cambridge. I haven’t called them. It’s hard to go to a new shrink.”

“I imagine it would be,” Jesse said.

“You think I should go back into therapy?”

“Anything that will help you decide what you want to do, and then be able to do it, is a good thing,” Jesse said.

“And you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay,” Jesse said.

“What if I get to a point where what I want doesn’t include you?”

“Then I’ll move on,” Jesse said.

“And you’ll be all right?”

“Jenn, I don’t know if I’m going to be all right tomorrow. I can’t possibly tell you if I’ll be all right in six months or two years or whatever it takes.”

“But you won’t give up?”

“Not until you tell that you don’t want me in your life.”

“I can’t ever imagine saying that.”