Fool Me Twice (7 page)

Jesse stood.

“We’re done here,” Jesse said. “As we have previously discussed, your position enables you to fire me but not to tell me what to do.”

Hansen looked away.

“Unless you’re firing me, I’m going back to work.”

Hansen didn’t say anything.

“Stay out of it, Carter,” Jesse said. “You don’t need any part of this fur ball.”

Hansen watched as Jesse left his office.

  18  

J
esse pulled into the driveway of the Wilburforce School, where Courtney Cassidy was a student.

After waiting in his outer office for several minutes, Jesse was ushered into the office of the principal, Dr. Rodger Pike.

Pike was a portly, fiftyish man, a pipe smoker who was still fretting over the school policy that prevented him from lighting up indoors. To compensate, he picked up his pipe and placed it in the corner of his mouth.

“What can I do for you, Chief Stone,” he said, sucking on the pipe.

“I’m sorry to disturb you on such short notice, Dr. Pike, but I have a couple of questions regarding one of your students.”

“Of course,” Pike said. “Which student?”

“Courtney Cassidy.”

“Just so you understand, Chief Stone, our student information is confidential.”

“I’ve recently had a couple of run-ins with Ms. Cassidy, and I’m curious about her.”

“‘Run-ins’?”

“Yesterday she was the cause of a rather serious traffic accident. She was driving and texting. Today I cited her for driving while talking on a cell phone. I’m concerned that she might be a danger to herself, as well as to the community.”

“What is it you want from me,” Dr. Pike said.

“Answers to some questions.”

“I’ll try.”

“What kind of student is she?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning are her grades good? Is she well behaved? Does she obey the rules? Is she in any way difficult?”

Dr. Pike removed the pipe from his mouth and returned it to his desk. He carefully wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. He stood up, walked to his office door, and softly closed it. He then returned to the desk.

“Your reputation precedes you, Chief Stone. My understanding is that you have a noble track record when it comes to dealing with delinquent juveniles. For that reason, and not for attribution, I will tell you that the Wilburforce School has had its share of difficulties with Courtney Cassidy. She is resistant to authority. She has issues with her peers. She is frequently sullen and uncooperative.”

“Why do you keep her?”

“Her father is the school’s largest contributor.”

“Aaah,” Jesse said.

“Aaah, indeed,” Dr. Pike said.

“Thank you for your frankness.”

“It’s really a shame.”

“What is?”

“Off the record, she’s generally a pain in the ass. But I somehow believe she’s not a bad girl at heart. Were I a psychiatrist, I might even suggest that she’s acting out a desperate need for attention.”

“Is she a good student?”

“Heavens, no.”

“Does she socialize?”

“Meaning?”

“Does she have many friends? Any boyfriends?”

“Again, I’m not really at liberty to say. Off the record, however, she does get along with a number of the other girls, but not the truly popular ones. No boyfriends that I know of.”

“Thank you again for your candor,” Jesse said, standing.

“I do hope you can help this child,” Dr. Pike said.

“I do hope this child can be helped,” Jesse said.

  19  

M
olly handed Jesse his phone messages as he walked by her desk.

“Frankie Greenberg called,” she said.

He nodded and went into his office.

He returned her call first.

“Help,” she said.

“‘Help’?”

“Marisol Hinton arrives tomorrow. I need a respite.”

“‘A respite’?”

“Stop repeating everything I say. I need relief. I need to feel the wind in my hair. I need to be lifted off the earth and transported to a magical land where nymphs play and angels sing.”

“I know just the place.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“My house,” he said.

“What time?”

—

T
his is just what I’d imagined,” Frankie said as she entered the house. Jesse ushered her into the living room, where she dropped her things on a chair.

She looked around. The kitchen caught her attention.

“You’re cooking?”

“No.”

“You’re kidding, right,” she said, inhaling deeply.

“Vito Rezza did the cooking,” Jesse said.

“Who’s Vito Rezza?”

“The owner of Vito’s Ristorante, of course.”

Frankie looked at him questioningly. “On tonight’s menu, we have a Caprese salad, along with freshly baked garlic bread. Our entrée is veal piccata served on a bed of linguini
aglio e olio
. And for dessert we have Vito’s legendary tiramisu.”

“Wow,” she said. Jesse grabbed a pair of wineglasses and poured an already decanted Lungarotti Rubesco.

“This is fabulous,” she said, after tasting it.

“Respite enough?”

“Pinch me, I’m dreaming.”

Jesse took her wineglass and put it down on the counter. Then he put his arms around her and kissed her.

“Wow again,” she said.

“And we haven’t even gotten to the appetizers.”

He kissed her again, then paused.

“We have a dilemma,” Jesse said, leaning back slightly.

“Oh?”

“Although we have an amazing dinner simmering on the stove, in point of fact, it could benefit from simmering a bit longer.”

“How much longer?”

“If I showed you around upstairs, it’s entirely possible we might become distracted long enough to allow it to simmer to maturity.”

“By all means.”

“By all means what?”

“Take me upstairs.”

“With pleasure,” he said.

—

F
rankie was swimming in Jesse’s extra-large white cotton bathrobe, which she wore with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. Jesse had on a gray PPD sweatshirt and a pair of blue-and-green-checked pajama bottoms.

Having finished the salad, they now eagerly worked on the veal and the pasta. Frankie was sipping the Rubesco. Jesse had switched to Sam Adams Winter Lager.

Saving the tiramisu for later, they retired to the living room, where Jesse settled himself into one of his armchairs. Frankie made herself comfortable on his lap.

Mildred Memory was camped out on the adjacent chair, watching them through half-closed eyes.

Frankie put her arms around Jesse’s neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I think I’ve just discovered the meaning of life,” she said.

Jesse kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him and raised her face to his.

“I could get used to this,” she said.

She kissed him once, then again with urgency.

She adjusted herself on the chair until she was straddling him. They stayed that way for some time.

  20  

J
esse saw Courtney’s Lexus pull into the Wilburforce School parking lot from his spot across the street. She negotiated the left turn while holding her cell phone to her ear.

Jesse stepped out of his cruiser and walked to the lot. Courtney was slowly circling it, looking for a parking space. When she spotted him, she slammed on her brakes and dropped the phone.

Jesse approached the car, and when he was beside it, he motioned for her to get out. She opened the door and stepped out.

“What,” she said.

“Pick up the phone and hand it to me.”

“Pick it up yourself.”

Jesse noticed that they had attracted the attention of a number of students, who milled around, watching.

“Please hand me your driver’s license and your car keys.”

“Why?”

“Because you have now officially lost your right to operate a motor vehicle.”

“What are you talking about?”

“License and keys,” Jesse said.

“No,” she said.

Jesse took out his cell phone and punched in a number. When Molly answered, he asked her which officer was closest to the Wilburforce School. When she named Rich Bauer, Jesse instructed her to have him get to the school parking lot as quickly as possible.

Then he stood silently, staring at Courtney.

She became uneasy. She was the centerpiece of a spectacle that was now appearing before nearly half the student body.

“What’s going on,” she said.

Jesse didn’t respond.

Within moments, Bauer’s cruiser entered the lot, siren blaring. He pulled to within inches of where Jesse was standing and got out of the car.

“What’s up, Skipper?”

“Please take Ms. Cassidy into custody, read her her rights and then escort her to jail.”

“You can’t do that,” Courtney said. “I’m at school.”

“Do it, Rich,” Jesse said.

Bauer approached Courtney, who backed away. He was forced to follow her until she finally stood still. Then he took his handcuffs from his service belt and cuffed her.

She started to cry.

After he read Courtney her rights, he walked her to his cruiser and placed her in the backseat. Then he got in and drove away.

Jesse phoned the station.

When Molly answered, he said, “Have Smitty come and impound Courtney’s Lexus, which is in the parking lot of the Wilburforce School.”

“Oh, baby,” Molly said.

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“I’m on it,” she said.

Jesse looked around at the gawkers.

“Break it up,” he shouted. “It’s over.”

The students began to disperse.

Jesse retrieved an evidence bag from his cruiser. He put on a rubber glove and picked up Courtney’s cell phone. He placed it in the evidence bag.

He called the DA’s office.

Smitty’s flatbed was just pulling into the parking lot as Jesse was leaving. He handed the car keys to the driver. Then he walked back across the street, got into his cruiser, and drove away.

—

T
hird offense,” Jesse said to DA Aaron Silver.

They were sitting in Silver’s office, accompanied by Marty Reagan.

“I thought Marty asked you to drop this,” Silver said.

“I’ll ignore that remark,” Jesse said.

Silver sighed.

“I’ll settle for a one-year suspension of her driving privileges, which is state law,” Jesse said. “Also, the largest fine allowable.”

Silver didn’t say anything.

“Probation would also be good. It would keep her in the system and place her under our supervision.”

“Meaning,” Reagan said.

“Community service might prove invaluable to this child. Give her the opportunity to see how things really are.”

“No judge would sanction it,” Silver said.

“I’d like a hearing just the same,” Jesse said. “Perhaps I could convince him. Or her.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Silver said.

Jesse sat for a while.

“What,” Reagan said.

“It’s as if she can’t control herself,” Jesse said. “She appears to be demanding attention and doing it in a way that can’t be ignored.”

“I said I’d see what I can do,” Aaron Silver said.

“Just do the right thing,” Jesse said. “We’ve got a troubled kid on our hands.”

  21  

R
ichard and Portia Cassidy were waiting for Jesse at the station. They exuded money and breeding and a kind of arrogance that Jesse found offensive. He asked them to join him in his office.

Richard wore his black pin-striped Brooks Brothers suit well, but Jesse wondered why not even a single strand of his abundant salt-and-pepper hair was out of place. Had to be some kind of spray, he figured.

Portia was a handsome woman who might once have been beautiful. But Jesse saw that her looks had been augmented by plastic surgery. Her lips were drawn tight, and her skin appeared as if it had been ironed.

“May I offer you anything,” Jesse said as he stepped behind his desk.

“I’d like some coffee,” Mr. Cassidy said.

“Mrs. Cassidy?”

“I’d like your head on a platter,” she said.

Jesse looked at her.

Then he called for Molly, who appeared in the office doorway.

“Will you bring Mr. Cassidy a coffee, please,” he said.

“How do you take it,” she said.

“Black would be fine.” Molly left.

“We’re out of platters,” Jesse said to Portia.

“Don’t be impudent with me, Chief Stone,” she said.

“Jesse,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Jesse.”

“Can you believe this guy,” Portia said to her husband.

“What brings you here,” Jesse said.

“You know damned well what brings us here,” Portia said.

Molly entered with the coffee and handed it to Richard.

“Thank you,” Richard said to her.

To Jesse he said, “I understand you’ve arrested Courtney again. Isn’t this all a bit much?”

“Your daughter seems to delight in breaking the law and then flaunting it. Within a matter of days she’s become a three-time offender and appears to be either oblivious of that fact or proud of it.”

“You’re harassing her,” Portia said. “You’re purposely singling her out.”

Jesse looked at her.

“You do know that she narrowly escaped with her life in a traffic accident that she caused,” he said.

“Says you,” Portia said.

“Please, Portia,” Richard said. “This won’t get us anywhere. What is it you want, Chief Stone?”

“Your daughter needs some serious discipline.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Richard said.

“You’ve already lost that privilege,” Jesse said. “She’ll be judged by the court now.”

“She’s seventeen years old,” Richard said. “She’s a minor. Nothing will come of this, I can assure you.”

“The law is clear about the penalties attached to cell-phone usage while driving.”

“And?”

“At the very least, your daughter’s right to drive is going to be suspended.”