Blue Screen (13 page)

C
RONJAGER GOT BACK
to me last night,” Jesse said.

He and I were sitting near the window with a view of the harbor in a restaurant called the Gray Gull.

“And?” I said.

“Delaney and Newton were shot to death with the same nine-millimeter,” Jesse said. “Delaney took four in the chest and one in the head. Newton took three in the chest, one in the head.”

“The one in the head was from close range?” I said.

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Pays to make sure. The office computer was missing. There were no files.”

“Was there any sign that there might have been files?”

“There was an empty two-drawer file cabinet,” Jesse said.

“So whoever shot them must have had reason to think he was in the files.”

Jesse nodded. The waitress came with menus. We asked for iced tea while we read the menu.

“What’s good here?” I said.

“The view,” Jesse said.

“Oh,” I said.

The waitress brought the iced tea. We ordered. The waitress departed.

“Cronjager got tax returns from the IRS,” Jesse said. “Nothing.”

“Buddy wasn’t mentioned?”

“Nope.”

“Moon Monaghan?”

“Nope.”

“And of course no Erin Flint,” I said.

Jesse shook his head. “These guys took a big net loss each of the last several years.”

“People lie on their tax returns,” I said.

“I’ve heard that.”

“But they have to keep their own records,” I said, “or they won’t know what they’re doing.”

“Which is probably why the computer is missing and there’s nothing in the file cabinet,” Jesse said.

The waitress brought us two chef salads and refilled our iced-tea glasses. The day was dark. The harbor water looked murky and cold. The boats in the harbor floated silent and sparse at their moorings. Across the harbor I could see Paradise Neck, and half closing the harbor mouth I could see Stiles Island, where Buddy Bollen lived in style.

“Well,” I said. “If my sources are correct, two of the principals are here in Boston, available for conversation.”

“They probably will not confess,” Jesse said.

“But if we pry away at them,” I said, “something might pry loose and then…who knows?”

“Maybe he’ll do something stupid,” Jesse said, “and we can catch him doing it.”

“We can try,” I said.

“Who you want to start with,” Jesse said.

“Monaghan.”

“Fine,” Jesse said. “You know where he is?”

“Uncle Felix will know,” I said.

Jesse smiled at me.

“You have got the damnedest set of connections, Sunny. Your father’s a cop and your uncle’s a crook.”

“Actually, my ex-husband’s uncle. But he likes me.”

“Who wouldn’t,” Jesse said.

“Felix says Monaghan is very dangerous.”

“We’ll talk with him together,” Jesse said.

“Felix said I should let him know if I’m going to, ah, ‘fuck with Moon Monaghan.’”

“So to speak,” Jesse said.

“Metaphorically,” I said.

“We’re pretty dangerous, too,” Jesse said.

“And Felix?” I said.

“Up to you, he’s your ex-uncle-in-law,” Jesse said.

“Perhaps we’ll hold him in reserve,” I said.

We were quiet for a time, concentrating on our mediocre chef salads. When I had enough, I put my fork down and blotted my lips with my napkin, and took out my lip gloss.

“I hope you don’t mind,” I said.

“I like it,” Jesse said. “I’ll take all the womanliness I can get.”

I finished with my lip gloss and looked at him.

“How are you?” I said.

“Lousy,” Jesse said.

“Your ex-wife?” I said.

“Yes.”

I was quiet. I decided to let it sit. He’d talk when he was ready. I would, too.

“Well,” I said after a time, “you’re still drinking iced tea at lunch.”

“So far,” Jesse said.

W
HEN FELIX
called me with Moon Monaghan’s address in Chestnut Hill, he said, “That cop you’re going to see Moon with—he any good?”

“Yes,” I said. “I think he is.”

“Small-town cop?”

“Used to be a homicide detective in Los Angeles,” I said.

“Cops don’t scare Moon much,” Felix said.

“Do you?”

“Not enough,” Felix said.

“We’ll have a couple of state troopers with us,” I said to Felix, “giving us jurisdiction, sort of.”

“Good,” Felix said. “I’ll let Moon know you’re with me.”

“Don’t warn him we’re coming,” I said.

Felix made his laugh noise again.

“I’ll just let him know, like generally, that you’re with me and Desmond.”

“Thank you, Felix.”

“Be careful of Moon,” Felix said. “I don’t even scare him very much.”

“You’re too modest,” I said.

“Just be careful,” Felix said.

And we hung up.

Moon Monaghan lived in a big brick house with a view of the reservoir. I went with Jesse in a Paradise police cruiser, which Jesse drove.

A state police cruiser followed us. Moon’s house was close to the road, with a short, wide driveway leading to a two-car garage. Jesse parked in the driveway, next to a BMW sports car. The state police cruiser U-turned and parked on the street in front of Moon’s house.

“What did you tell him?” I said.

“Moon? I didn’t talk with Moon. I talked with his lawyer. I said we needed to talk with Moon about a crime we were investigating. I said we had no evidence that he was involved but that we hoped he could clear up some things for us. And I said, out of respect, we would come to him and not ask him to come out to Paradise and sit in the interrogation room.”

“Do you actually have an interrogation room?” I said.

“No.”

A housekeeper let us in and led us to the living room. Moon was there with his lawyer. The lawyer was bulky and red-faced with a lot of silver-gray hair brushed straight back. He had on a double-breasted gray glen plaid suit, a red tie, and a blue shirt with a white collar. He had a briefcase with him, so we’d know he was a lawyer. Moon was something else again. He was very tall, maybe 6'5" or 6'6". He was angular with big hands, long fingers, and prominent knuckles. His skin was very pale, as if he never went out. His hair was long and white-blond and combed back smooth and tight against his long skull. The lawyer rose when we came in. Moon didn’t.

“I’m Francis Clough,” he said. “I represent Mr. Monaghan.”

“Jesse Stone,” Jesse said. “Sunny Randall.”

Moon looked at us with eyes so pale it was hard to tell they were blue.

“Please sit down,” Clough said.

Jesse ignored him.

‘“Mind if I call you Moon?” he said.

“I don’t give a fuck what you call me,” Moon said.

His voice was flat and whispery, with no inflection, as if he had a mechanical throat.

“So, Moon,” Jesse said. “Have you ever been involved in the movie business.”

“No.”

“Ever invest in any movie projects?”

“No.”

“Do you know a man named Buddy Bollen?”

“No.”

“Moon, Moon,” Jesse said. “We have pretty good information that you invested in a film project with Buddy Bollen.”

“Yeah?”

Jesse nodded.

“Prove it,” Moon said.

“If you have any allegations against my client…” Clough said.

“Francis,” Moon said. “I talk. You listen. You hear one of my rights being violated, speak up. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.”

“Sure, Moon.”

“You got anything else to ask me?” Moon said.

“Do you know anyone named Arlo Delaney?” Jesse said.

He stood in front of Moon as he spoke, and looked down at him. I stood in the open doorway and leaned on the jamb.

“No.”

“Moon,” I said from the doorway. “He’s your cousin.”

“Never heard of him.”

“And a fella named Newton, Greg Newton?” Jesse said.

“Probably shortened from Nootangian,” I said.

“Don’t know him,” Moon said.

“Do you know what time it is?” Jesse said.

“No.”

“Nice to find consistency,” Jesse said. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m retired.”

“From what?” I said.

“Nothing.”

“And for income?” I said.

Moon almost smiled.

“Social security,” he said. “Plus, I got an IRA, couple mutual funds.”

“Waste not, want not,” I said.

“And I know about you, too, little girl,” Moon said. “I know you’re with the Burkes. Just don’t think it buys you anything with me.”

“You have nothing I’d want to buy,” I said.

He stared at me. Jesse moved slightly to his left and met Moon’s stare as if he were intercepting it. Neither blinked for a time.

Then Moon said, “And being the fucking police chief in some hick fucking town don’t buy much from me, either.”

Jesse kept his gaze on Moon for a little bit longer, then he smiled.

“Damn,” Jesse said. “I was hoping it would.”

I
WORKED OUT
with Erin Flint in the private gym at SeaChase where Misty had died. Erin was wearing a cropped black tank top and shorts. I had on sweatpants and a loose gray T-shirt. Working out with Erin was not a good time to be showing off my body. Two security guards stood at the far end of the gym on either side of the door.

“Do you know a man named Moon Monaghan?” I said.

“Moon? Sure. He produced my first picture, him and Buddy.”

“Really?” I said. “Very tall? Phony-looking platinum blond hair?”

“Yeah. He used to date Misty.”

“She like him?”

“No. She thought he was creepy.”

“Why did she go out with him?”

“Buddy made her,” Erin said.

“How?” I said.

“How did he make her?”

I nodded.

“He just did. He told her Moon was important to the project.”

Erin was doing one of those hideous butt exercises where you are on all fours and push up a weight backward with one leg, then the other. She paused and looked up at me from her hands and knees.

“Besides, we used to be whores,” she said. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”

I nodded. She remained on her hands and knees.

“Actually,” she said after a moment, “I fucked him a couple of times, too.”

“How was that?” I said.

The thought of it was chilling, and I didn’t really want to know how it was. But I wanted to keep on the topic of Moon Monaghan, and I couldn’t think of anything else.

“Like a trip to the gyno,” Erin said.

“Clinical?” I said.

“Yeah, that’s a good word,” Erin said. “He was clinical.”

“And you had sex with him because he was important to the project?”

“Of course,” Erin said.

She began another set of butt shapers. It seemed effortless, and she showed no sign of strain.

“Certainly not for fun,” she said.

“Who do you sleep with for fun?” I said. “Buddy?”

I didn’t know where I was going, but it was better than going nowhere.

“Buddy? Do you think it would be fun to fuck Buddy?”

“Can’t say that I do,” I said. “So who’s fun?”

She came out of her hands-and-knees stance and sat on the floor with her back against one of the exercise machines and her amazing legs spraddled out in front of her.

“Who do I fuck for fun?”

I nodded.

“And what makes that your business?”

“I’m detecting,” I said.

She sat on the floor and thought about it.

“You know,” she said after a while, “I can’t think of anybody. How ’bout you?”

“They’ve all been fun,” I said.

“All?”

“Not actually that many,” I said. “I was married for a while.”

“But not now,” Erin said.

“No.”

“Now you’re just giving it away when you can.”

I was having an actual conversation with Erin. I hated to lose it. On the other hand, I didn’t feel like explaining my sex life to her.

“I have met some men I liked,” I said. “We have had some fun. Part of the fun is sex. But it’s not the only part.”

“Isn’t that…cute,” Erin said.

“It’s never been fun for you?” I said.

“Honey,” she said. “I been a working girl since my mother died.”

Sitting on the floor with her legs splayed, she opened her arms wide.

“And this,” she said, “is what I’ve got to work with.”

I smiled at her. “Well, it’s a wonderful instrument,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “It is.”

“Does Moon Monaghan know much about producing pictures?” I said.

“God no,” Erin said. “He’s just a money guy.”

She laughed.

“Wants to be in show business,” she said. “When we were shooting
Woman Warrior,
the first one, he was on the set every day, hanging around, trying to score any actress he could get near. Drove Buddy crazy. Drove everybody crazy. In the way. Stupid. He was like a fucking tourist.”

“So he invested in the show.”

“Yeah. And insisted on a producing credit,” Erin said.

“Do you know how much he put in?”

She shrugged.

“Nope,” she said. “You’ll have to ask Buddy.”

“But that was why he was important,” I said. “Money.”

“Yep.”

She stood and arched her back a bit to stretch it, and walked toward the gravitron machine. She laughed without any amusement.

“The Boverini sisters,” she said. “Right back where we started, fucking for money.”

“And Buddy got the money,” I said.

“Naturally,” Erin said.

“So, to extend the analogy,” I said, “Buddy would be the pimp.”

“I don’t know what an analogy is,” Erin said. “But Buddy would make a good pimp.”

“Better than Gerard?”

“Gerard,” she said. “Compared to Buddy, Gerard was…ah…what?…human…you know?…he was like a person. Buddy’s a windup piggy bank.”

“Do you see Moon Monaghan anymore?” I said.

“No, not since a little after the first picture.”

“
Woman Warrior
?” I said.

“Yes. He financed the first
Woman Warrior
picture, and used to come around after, for a while, bang one of the Boverini girls, or both of them. He liked a doubleheader now and then. Then he stopped showing up. Buddy never said anything about him.”

“Did
Woman Warrior
make money?”

“Sure. It was a big hit.”

“You know how much it made?”

“No, I just know Buddy said it did really well.”

“Have you heard from Gerard since you went with Buddy?”

“He sent me flowers the day after
Woman Warrior
opened.”

“All right, Gerard,” I said. “So he knew how to find you.”

“He knew I was with Buddy,” she said. “Why you asking me all this stuff?”

“Investigating,” I said. “You never know what information will be useful.”

“Here’s some information,” Erin said. “They don’t want me to play ball and they killed my sister by mistake.”

“Is that why there’s so much security?” I said. “Because of you?”

“Well, my God,” Erin said. “They killed my sister.”

“I mean before that. I understand that you’re a star and he’s famous for his wealth. But the amount of security at his house and everywhere even before Misty was killed…I just wondered?”

Erin shrugged her shoulders and stepped up onto the gravitron and began to do dips.

She said, “I’m a damned movie star, you know.”

“Did the security increase after
Woman Warrior
?”

“I don’t know. I guess so. There were a couple guys around. Buddy’s driver. Couple guys at the house.”

“But after
Woman Warrior
?”

“More guys came aboard,” she said.

“Fame has its price,” I said.

“Wait’ll I play in the big leagues this summer,” she said.

“You’re not scared?” I said.

“Fuck them,” Erin said, “I’m going to do it. I’m going to do it.”

“Them?”

“All of them,” she said.

“Men?” I said.

“Every fucking one of them,” she said.