Robert B. Parker's Debt to Pay (21 page)

I
t was an hour before the beginning of their shift and Molly showed up at the Gull ten minutes early. It was in her nature to be early. Today her earliness wasn't about her nature. Molly was early because she was burning with curiosity. What could Suit want to discuss with her that they couldn't talk about at work or over the phone?

They had shared a strange relationship over the years. Paradise lifers and colleagues, they weren't exactly friends. They weren't enemies, either, but they were occasionally rivals. Jesse Stone, his opinions and affections, were most often at the center of this rivalry, though not always. They were just very different people.

Molly was long married with a houseful of kids, some soon heading to college. She took her job seriously. It seemed to Suit she took everything seriously, too seriously. Yet she had more leeway with Jesse. She could bust on him, humble him, in a style Suit could never pull off. And it wasn't because she was so good-looking. In his most self-honest moments, Suit knew it was because Jesse thought so highly of Molly. Jesse respected Molly in a way Suit was sure Jesse didn't respect him. Jesse loved him. He never doubted that. But it was painful and painfully obvious to everyone that Jesse thought Molly
could have been a big-city cop and that he thought Suit was right where he belonged. He was a small-town kid and a small-town cop.

Poor, dumb Suit. Jesse never said it. Maybe he never even thought about Suit that way, not in so many words, but sometimes Suit read them in Jesse's eyes. It was never worse than after Peepers shot him in the belly and he'd been forced to work light duty for a few months. Working the desk while Molly took his place on patrol was as serious a wound to his ego as the bullets to his gut.

Molly ordered a coffee, checking her cell phone for the time.
What has Suit gotten himself into now?
He'd never crossed the line, but he was occasionally indiscreet. His affairs with older married women weren't ever front-page news. In fact, she was sure that Suit and Jesse thought they had done a good job of keeping her out of the loop. She wasn't judging Suit. Who was she to judge Suit? She had crossed a line that she swore she would never cross, though only once. She liked Suit. It was hard not to like Suit. For one thing, he tried hard. He was funny and, because of his size and boyishness, there was something teddy bear–ish about him. He could be charming, too. He wanted people to like him. Needed to be liked. Molly, not so much.

“Let's go to a table,” Suit said, stepping up to the bar and flagging down the waitress.

As they were sitting down, Suit ordered two glasses of champagne. When Molly objected, Suit repeated the order and shooed the waitress away.

“Champagne? What's going on, Suit?”

“I need your help.”

“I knew it,” Molly said, exasperated. “What is it this time? You know, champagne isn't going to soften me up, especially before a shift.”

But instead of becoming glum and defensive, Suit laughed.

“I knew you'd think that, Molly. That I screwed up somehow.”

“It's usually why people need help. It's always why you do.”

“Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence. At least Jesse pretends I'm good at my job.”

Molly felt a twinge of guilt. She was being too hard on Suit. He had done plenty of good as a cop. He'd saved people's lives, and when he'd messed up in the past, nobody had suffered very much for his mistakes. Even his getting in the middle of Jesse and Peepers and the mess now following in its wake was done with the best intentions.

“Sorry, Suit. I'm cranky. It's all this stuff going on with Peepers, and I'm worried about my family. And with Jesse out of town . . .”

“That's okay. I guess you'd be right most of the time, but not this time. I didn't screw anything up,” he said, smiling with pride. “I need your help because I did the right thing, Molly. The rightest thing I've ever done.”

Before Molly could ask what that was, the two glasses of champagne arrived and were set out in front of them. Suit thanked the waitress and asked her to bring him the bill. They clinked glasses and sipped. Suit made a face.

“Is it any good?” he asked Molly.

“It's good enough.”

“I hate champagne.”

Molly shook her head. “Then why'd you order it, genius?”

“Because it's what you're supposed to drink when you get engaged.”

It was all Molly could do not to spit out her second sip. “Engaged! To who?”

“You don't know her, I don't think. Elena Wheatley. She used to teach at Paradise High. We've been seeing each other a few months and . . . you know. It just felt right. I asked and she said yes.”

“Why is this the first I'm hearing about it?”

“It's the first anyone's hearing about it. Not even Jesse knows. And please, don't tell anyone. Okay? I want to be the one to tell people when this thing with Peepers blows over.”

“Sure, Suit,” Molly said. “But why tell me, and why do you need my help? Seems to me you're doing just fine.”

“Because I trust you to make sure I do stuff right, to tell me how I'm supposed to go about things. I know you know all that stuff. I really love her, Molly, and I don't want to hurt her feelings or screw this up for her.”

“Stand up,” she said.

“Why?”

She repeated. “Stand up.”

This time he stood. Molly came around the table, kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him.

“Congratulations, Luther. Best of luck to you and Elena.”

“We're going to need it.”

“Don't worry,” she said. “I'll make sure you keep in line.”

“Thanks, Molly.”

“Shut up and get out of here. You've got to be on patrol in forty-five minutes.”

“But what about the check?”

“It's my treat. Now get!”

As she watched Suit leave, Molly noticed she was smiling. She hadn't done much of that lately.

D
one up in the same Spanish Mission style as the town hall and the Park Mansion complex, Vineland Park Village was a kind of Rodeo Drive turned into a square strip mall. The bulk of the businesses were designer clothing and accessory shops, with a movie theater, restaurants, and a few bars thrown in. It was the sort of place created to burn your cash and melt your credit cards faster than a casino. The cars in the lot were like the cars parked in the driveway at Hale Hunsicker's house: expensive, luxurious, and fast. The place was impeccably landscaped with flower beds carpeted in burnt-orange-, yellow-, and periwinkle-colored Texas wildflowers. Cactus, too. The sidewalks were shaded by rows of acacia trees.

“Right across the street there,” Pruitt said, “that's the Vineland Park Country Club, where the wedding reception will be.”

“You think I can get a look at the place before the wedding?”

“I'm sure Kahan will take care of that for you. Kind of exclusive. Only reason they let me in is 'cause the members think it's smart to keep the chief of police happy.”

“Speaking of Kahan, I haven't seen him lately.”

“Like I said, Jesse, you got to watch out for fellas like him. No telling what he's getting up to. But come on, let's get you an after-barbecue drink.”

“Is that a Texas tradition, too?”

“No, sir, not a Lone Star tradition, but it sure is one of mine.”

“Just one,” Jesse said. “After listening to Belinda Yankton's tale, I could use one.”

Alcoholics were full of such lines. There wasn't a situation where a drinker couldn't come up with a snappy rationalization. Jesse Stone was no exception.

“You'll be upstairs tonight,” Pruitt said, sipping his bourbon and water. They were at Ace's Bar, a notorious local watering hole, at least according to Pruitt. “Vineland natives call the upstairs lounge the Jungle Bar because . . . well, that's where the big cats and kittens prowl. You'll see.”

Jesse was already through most of his Black Label and soda. He was about to ask for more info on the Jungle Bar when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Excuse me,” he said, waving the phone at Pruitt and retreating to a quiet spot near the restrooms.

“Jesse Stone.”

“Jenn Soon-to-be Hunsicker here. Where are you?”

“Ace's Bar with Chief Pruitt.”

“Are you drunk, Jesse?”

“Jenn, we've talked about this. You lost the right to ask me those kinds of questions a long time ago. But no, I'm not. The chief and I have had a long day and we had stuff to talk about.”

“Jed's a good man,” she said, trying to recover. “Do you think you could ask him to leave you there? I want to talk to you, Jesse. Alone.”

“Look, Jenn, I'm not up for any drama. Okay?”

“Does Diana know you're out drinking in the afternoon?”

“What did I just say, Jenn?”

“I'm sorry, Jesse. I'm sorry. Of course what Diana knows or doesn't know isn't any of my business. Please, just ask Jed to leave you there and I'll be over in ten minutes. Please, Jesse. Consider it a wedding gift.”

“A wedding gift is for both the bride and groom. Do you think Hale will see our visit that way?”

“You're impossible, Jesse Stone. I'm coming over. If you want this conversation to happen in front of Jed, that's up to you.”

She hung up.

Jesse went back to his drink and asked Jed Pruitt if he wouldn't mind giving him some time alone.

“I'll be okay. Peepers won't make his move here.”

“You sure about that? Remember what Belinda Yankton said to you today.”

“I'm sure. I'll call Ari to come get me when I'm done. Are you sure you won't come tonight?” Jesse asked. “I feel like I could use an ally.”

“You look like a fella that will hold his own around Hale's crowd. Mention your baseball career and all them master-of-the-universe types will shrivel up. Money may be good for a man's ego, but it don't measure up to really doing something. Remember, most little boys grow up dreaming of being a cop or a professional athlete. I'd say you got that covered.”

“Thanks for the barbecue and the company.”

“Truly my pleasure. I'll catch up with you at tomorrow's festivities.”

When Jed Pruitt's back vanished into the shadows of the bar, Jesse hurried to order a second Black Label. He thought of Jenn and thought of how he could use that second drink. He laughed at himself, because even he realized he would have had a second drink regardless.

J
enn came and sat right next to him at the bar.

“Is this seat taken, handsome?” she said.

“It is now.”

Jenn was dressed in a red spaghetti-strap tee and a gauzy white shoulder wrap splashed with vaguely floral shapes of sky blue and pale yellow. Her slacks were white and tight. Her high, wedged shoes were a few hundred bucks' worth of casual. One thing Jesse had noticed in his brief time in the Lone Star State was that Dallas women had a different sense of casual than women did almost anywhere else he'd been. It included perfect makeup and expensive, if not necessarily fancy, clothing.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Jesse asked, shaking his glass so that the ice cubes rattled about.

“For goodness' sakes, Jesse, you have to go out with Hale in a few hours.”

Jesse stared at Jenn in the bar mirror as he had stared at Vinnie Morris in a bar mirror the month before. He couldn't believe how his life had been hijacked. Between the wedding and Peepers, he had thought of little else. He realized that even Diana hadn't gotten his
full attention and that maybe he had missed some cues and signs. The whole marriage thing had caught him totally off guard, not that he wasn't excited at the prospect. A little worried, too.

Mirrors sometimes reveal things to you that eye contact just can't. That's what Jesse thought as he took in the sight of his ex-wife's face. She had aged well, growing gracefully into her good looks. The myth is that only men grow into their looks with age. Jenn put the lie to that. The small lines around her still-sparkling blue eyes and around her full mouth added to her beauty. She looked like she had lived a little and learned a lot. It was easy to see what Hale saw in her. But he sensed that she still hadn't fully shed her hungry insecurity, the thing that had been at the center of their inevitable divorce and, paradoxically, the thing that had tied them together for so many years afterward.

Jesse knew he was as much at fault as she was. It was a dance and they both knew their steps, who led and who followed. Jenn had a problem. She came to Jesse to fix it. He fixed it. He liked fixing it. It made him feel good to fix it. But once things were fixed, she went AWOL. Well, until the next time. And then the music played and the dance began again. Dix was the man who helped Jesse lift the needle off the record and stop the music. Maybe Hale found Jenn's needs charming. Maybe he liked coming to her rescue. Maybe with him she didn't disappear after things were fixed.

“This is my last one, Jenn. I'll be fine later.”

“Jesse Stone is always fine. That's what the rest of the world thinks, but we know better, don't we?”

“Did you come here to give me a hard time and make me regret coming to your wedding, Jenn? Because if you did, you're doing a good job of it.”

“That's just it, Jesse. Why did you come?”

He didn't like where this was going.

“In the end,” he said, “I thought it was the right thing to do. You know about me and doing the right thing. I want you to be happy and I wanted to see for myself that you were.”

She laughed without joy and ordered a glass of Australian chardonnay. “Not as oaky as American chardonnay,” she said to Jesse.

“I'll have to remember that.”

“Like you remembered that answer you just gave me about why you're here. You recited it like it was written on a cue card and you practiced it on the plane down here.” She lifted her glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers. Okay, Jenn, I wasn't lying, but the truth is I wanted some closure for myself. It's one thing for me to say I'm completely over you. It's another to test it. And maybe I wanted you to have a close look at Diana.”

“That's better,” she said, dabbing a drop of wine off her lip with a bar napkin. “Especially that last part about Diana. She is ungodly beautiful and she's definitely a match for you. She can talk shop with you and seems like she can handle herself like Sunny could. No need to come to her rescue, huh, Jesse? Probably the other way around. Still . . . I'm not buying it. We're not what we once were to each other, but I know you, Jesse Stone. Once you've made up your mind, no one's going to change it. So what changed your mind about coming?”

He swirled his drink and polished off the rest. “Asked and answered.”

Jenn turned to Jesse, grabbing his forearm. “Stop it. Just stop it. I know something's going on. I saw the looks between you and Hale and then between you and Jed. Remember, I was an investigative reporter for a while.”

That was sort of accurate. Jenn had worked on a short-lived show
that wasn't exactly fluff, but wasn't exactly
Frontline
or
60 Minutes,
either.

“It's nerves, Jenn. It's pre-wedding jitters. You're imagining things.”

“And you're lying. You want to tell me I'm imagining looks between you and Hale and Jed. Okay. Maybe. But why do we suddenly have twice the number of security people around than we had a month ago. Why did I have to wait upstairs last night before the party until Hale gave me the all-clear?”

“Why ask me? Ask Hale.”

“Don't you think I have?” Jenn said, her voice strained with emotion. “He just says it's nothing. I know he's lying. He's not as good at it as you. He's a tough guy in his way. Big and strong and ruthless in business, but he's not as to himself as you are. He doesn't have the walls around himself you have, and the ones he has aren't as tall or sturdy. It's one of the reasons I love him so much. I can reach him in a way I could never reach you, Jesse. Please, I'm begging you to tell me the truth. I can't have the both of you lying to me, not during my wedding celebrations.”

Jesse swallowed hard, took her hand in his, and lied some more.