Killing the Blues (15 page)

“It felt good to beat her up,” Julie said. “She was so pathetic.”

“Let me get this straight,” Jesse said. “Lisa was friendless. You thought she was pathetic. You knew her mother was dead, yet instead of showing compassion, you chose to regularly kick the shit out of her. What's wrong with this picture?”

“Well, when you put it that way . . .” Shauna said.

“You bullied and harassed this girl to the point where she was contemplating suicide. Did you know that?”

“Know what,” Julie said.

“That she planned to kill herself,” Jesse said.

“She did,” Bonnie said.

“There was a case in the news recently where a group of schoolgirls, not unlike yourselves, continually harassed another girl. So unrelentingly that the girl finally committed suicide. When it came out that they had been bullying the dead girl, these girls were arrested and indicted, and stood trial for second-degree murder. They all face jail time. Their lives have been ruined. Is that what you want for yourselves?”

The girls looked at one another. A couple of them shook their heads.

“Did you ever think that there might be consequences for your behavior?”

“We were just fucking with her,” Julie said.

“She asked for it,” Lesly said.

“Do you feel any remorse for your behavior,” Jesse said.

“Why should we,” Bonnie said.

The girls all looked at each other.

“How do you think your parents will feel when they find out about this?”

“They won't care,” Julie said.

“What happens between you and your parents is between you and them. What happens between you and me is what I'm interested in,” Jesse said. “Stop harassing Lisa Barry. And anyone else you may have been bullying. Okay? If you don't, there will be consequences. You'll face prosecution. You'll face jail time. And I will personally make each of your lives hell. Do you understand me?”

The girls nodded.

“I will instruct each of you to undergo psychological counseling. It's important that you understand what you brought upon yourselves and why.”

“Psychological counseling,” Bonnie Wilder said.

“With a proper shrink,” Jesse said.

The girls were quiet.

Jesse stood and began to walk around the table, looking directly at each of them.

“I'm going to haunt you,” he said. “One slip, one more incident, and you'll regret it for the rest of your lives. Do I make myself clear?”

No one spoke.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Jesse stared at each girl until she answered.

“You're going to start by apologizing to Lisa Barry. A sincere apology, too. No bullshit. You will regard her as a person. Say hello to her when it's warranted. Treat her as you would want to be treated. Is that clear,” Jesse said.

Under Jesse's gaze, each girl nodded again.

“Good,” Jesse said.

He walked to the door.

“Have a nice day, ladies,” he said, as he left.

 

 

 

O
n his way out, Jesse stopped by Eleanor Nelson's office. She stood as he entered.

“Chief Stone,” she said.

“Mrs. Nelson,” Jesse said. “I want you to know that my response to what I learned yesterday has not been good.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I believe you violated your position and brought shame on your office.”

Mrs. Nelson looked down.

“I'm going to launch an investigation into Mr. Tauber's behavior. If I find that he has been involved in sexual misconduct of any nature, I'll make certain that he is prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”

Mrs. Nelson didn't say anything.

“I want you to think of how your expressed indifference impacted the life of an already unsettled young woman,” Jesse said. “Your priorities are fucked, Mrs. Nelson, if you'll pardon my French. The responsibility you hold for the well-being of the young people in your charge is paramount. Of greater importance than anything else. If there's any possible way that I can separate you from your job, you can bet your ass that I'm going to find it. Shame on you, madam.”

Jesse turned and left. He resisted the impulse to slam the door behind him.

J
esse stood to greet Gino Fish as he was ushered to their table at Il Capriccio.

“Your server will be along shortly to take your drink order,” the maître d' said, and then scurried away.

Gino looked around the restaurant.

“Your first time,” Jesse said.

“Yes. Yours?”

“No,” Jesse said. “I actually learned the identity of John Lombardo here.”

“Ah,” Gino said. “Once we select our wine, we must surely offer a toast to him.”

“May I ask you a dumb question,” Jesse said.

“There's no such thing as a dumb question, Jesse Stone,” Gino said.

“Why are we here,” Jesse said.

“I thought that's what you might ask,” Gino said.

“So?”

“Let's just say that it's in both of our interests to be seen together tonight.”

“May I ask a follow-up question?”

“Not just now,” Gino said, as the server stopped by with the wine list.

 

 

 

I
t was shortly after seven o'clock and raining when Vinnie Morris pulled up to Zenith Enterprises. The streets were empty, and he found a parking space directly in front.

He pressed the admittance button on the security panel.

After a moment, a voice filtered through the electronic system.

“Who's there,” the voice said.

“Vinnie Morris.”

The door opened. A simian-looking creature dressed in a jacket and tie greeted Vinnie.

“Yo, Vinnie,” the man said.

“Vito,” Vinnie said. “Boss wants five minutes with Mr. Lombardo.”

“We was just closin' up. Lemme go tell him.”

Vinnie stepped inside. Vito closed the door behind him.

Vito headed for John Lombardo's office.

Once there, he pressed three numbers into the security panel beside the door. The latch released, and the door sprang open.

Vito looked back at Vinnie.

“I'll tell the boss,” he said.

Vinnie suddenly drew his pistol and shot Vito twice in the heart. With a look of astonishment on his face, Vito collapsed, already dead.

Vinnie stepped over the body and entered the office.

Lombardo, having heard the shots, was reaching for the pistol inside his desk when Vinnie approached him.

“What the fuck is this,” he said.

“I have a message for you from Gino Fish,” Vinnie said.

Lombardo looked up, his eyes bulging.

“Always look on the bright side of life,” Vinnie said.

He shot Lombardo in the forehead, the aftermath of which permanently altered the painting of himself that hung on the wall behind his desk.

Vinnie quickly left the office and buzzed himself out of the building. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped down the buzzer, both handles of the door, and the admittance button alongside it.

He looked up and down the street.

Seeing no one, he ducked into his car and drove away.

Jesse and Gino had finished their dinners and were enjoying an excellent zabaglione. Two spoons.

The restaurant was full, with the sole exception of the large table in the center of the room, which had been set for seven. A “Reserved” sign was on the table, but no one was seated there.

When the server brought the check, Gino waved Jesse off and reached for it. He barely glanced at it. He pulled out a wad of bills from his pocket. He thumbed a number of them from the wad and handed them to the server.

“Keep the change,” he said. “We had an excellent dinner. Memorable, even.”

“Thank you, sir,” the server said. “We hope you'll return.”

“I fully intend to,” Gino said. “Who's that big table reserved for? Some visiting movie star?”

“Not tonight,” the server said with a chuckle. “It's reserved for one of our regulars.”

The server glanced at his watch.

“That's odd,” he said. “They're late.”

“Probably the traffic,” Gino said.

The server nodded. Then he picked up the empty dessert plate and hurried away.

Gino looked at Jesse.

“Probably the traffic,” he said.

J
esse sat amid a group that included twin standard poodles, a miniature schnauzer, and an overweight pit bull whose attention was riveted on the cat case.

Finally, he was admitted to the inner sanctum of Dr. Mary Ann Kennerly, a bustling African American woman widely regarded as the best veterinarian in Paradise.

“This is a first,” Dr. Kennerly said. “The chief of police in my office. And from the looks of it, accompanied by a cat.”

“It adopted me,” Jesse said.

“A lot of that going around,” Dr. Kennerly said. “Put it on the examining table, Jesse. Let's have a look.”

Jesse opened the top of the carrying case, and the cat gingerly stuck out its head. It looked around, then ducked back in.

“Come on, little one,” Dr. Kennerly said. “Nothing bad's gonna happen.”

She lifted the cat from the case. She put it on her examining table. She placed her hands on it.

“Young,” Dr. Kennerly said. “No more than four or five months. Female.”

“Female,” Jesse said. “You're sure?”

“You got something against females?”

“No. No. I had come to think of it as a male.”

“Think again. Also think about having her spayed.”

“Spayed.”

“Are you gonna repeat everything I say?”

“Spayed,” Jesse said. “As in neutered?”

“Exactly.”

“I don't know how I feel about neutering an animal.”

“How you feel about it?”

“Shouldn't animals have the same reproductive rights as humans?”

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Kennerly said.

“Because?”

“Because the last thing you need are semiannual litters. Too many of these critters are already being euthanized. We don't need to add to that number.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

“I perform surgeries on Wednesdays. Make an appointment.”

Dr. Kennerly continued her examination.

“Forgive me for asking,” she said, “but what's being done about the dog killings?”

“Everything that can be.”

“Any progress?”

“Between you and me, Mary Ann, none that I can cite.”

“How strange it is.”

“Tell me about it.”

“If anyone can put a stop to it, it's most assuredly you, Jesse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I can't help but believe that we're gonna catch a break. People are aware of what's going on. Killer is bound to trip up. Sooner rather than later, I'm hoping.”

“The good news is this little girl appears to be in excellent condition,” the doctor said. “Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. I'll give her a few shots, and when you can, bring her in for the surgery.”

“Little girl,” Jesse said. “And here I was preparing to take him hunting and fishing with me.”

“After the surgery you'll have less trouble keeping the boys away.”

“Every father's dream,” Jesse said.

 

 

 

J
esse took the cat home, then headed for the office. His cell phone rang.

“Jesse,” he said.

“Have you seen the Boston papers,” Healy said.

“I live in Paradise,” Jesse said.

“I always wondered why you were so ill-informed.”

“What am I missing?”

“ ‘Mobster Murdered.' Headline story in both papers,” Healy said.

“Which mobster?”

“Ask that question with a straight face.”

“What do the papers think?”

“They concur.”

“On what?”

“They agree that Mr. Lombardo was the victim of Mob violence.”

“How awful.”

“You wouldn't know anything about this, would you,” Healy asked.

“About what?”

Healy didn't say anything.

“Did the Sox win,” Jesse said.

“I didn't get that far.”