Killing the Blues (21 page)

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Authors: Michael Brandman

BOOK: Killing the Blues
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“What's wrong,” Jesse said.
“Wrong?”
“Why would you offer to get me coffee?”
“I don't know. What difference does it make?”
“A big one. You have frequently used coffee as a tool to bust my chops.”
“You noticed?”
“I did.”
“Well, maybe today is an off day.”
“An off day?”
“The once-a-year ‘don't bust Jesse's chops' day,” Molly said.
Jesse didn't say anything.
“You should be grateful,” she said.
Jesse watched her leave.
He phoned Robert Lopresti.
“Have you got a pencil handy,” he said, when Robert answered.
“Jesse?”
“Yep.”
“I just got one.”
“Paper?”
“That, too.”
Jesse gave him Hasty's number.
“When you meet with him, try to be impressive,” Jesse said.
“I'm always impressive,” Robert said.
“Not that anyone would notice.”
“You noticed.”
Jesse didn't say anything.
“Enough to put me up for the job.”
“I hope you get it, Robert.”
“I'll let you know.”
“Please do.”
“Thanks for this, Jesse.”
“Don't mention it.”
58
T
he first thing Rollo saw was the patrol car with two officers inside. It was parked near the entrance to the footbridge, which made it impossible for him to gain easy access to Jesse's house.
The only way to bypass the car unnoticed was to swim. He thought about that for a while. He had his shoulder bag with him, in which he had placed several cans of lighter fluid. He was carrying a throwaway lighter in his pocket. He would have to keep them dry. His duffel wasn't waterproof, and he hadn't thought to bring any plastic bags.
He could attack the occupants of the patrol car, but he didn't like his odds. He decided to swim.
He walked away from the footbridge, crossed a rocky promontory, and made his way to the water's edge, which was out of sight of the patrol car. Once there, he took off his clothes, folded them and placed them inside the duffel. He would try to hug the shoreline as much as possible, holding the bag high above his head in order to prevent it from getting wet.
He entered the water. It was startlingly cold.
The floor of the bay was rocky. There was very little sand. Walking was difficult. He submerged and, holding the duffel above the water, he started to paddle.
He made his way into deeper water. The cold rattled his bones. He swam as best he could while holding the bag out of the water. The going was slow, but he made steady progress, and he soon rounded the curve in the shoreline and was approaching the far side of the house.
He inched his way to the water's edge and, stepping over the stones, came ashore.
He was frozen. He shook the water off as best he could. He had no towel. He put his clothes on. They absorbed the wet but didn't dry him. Cold and miserable, he headed for the back of the house. The only consolation for his discomfort was the knowledge that he would soon be triumphant.
J
esse lay down on the bed and turned on the old-movie channel. He had grown to like the oldies better than the new ones. He was settling in to watch Henry Fonda and Barbara Stanwyck in the Preston Sturges classic
The Lady Eve
when he heard a loud knocking on his door.
Has to be one of the patrol-car cops wanting to use the bathroom,
he surmised.
He put the TV on mute and went downstairs. He stopped in the kitchen to grab his Colt and walked to the door.
When he opened it, he discovered Alexis Richardson standing there. She looked at him demurely and held up a sack of Chinese takeout.
“Déjà vu all over again,” Jesse said.
“You gonna invite me in,” Alexis said.
“I'm thinking about it,” he said.
“What's with the gun,” she said.
“I'm a cop,” Jesse said.
She looked at him.
Then he stepped aside, and she swept past him into the house. He accompanied her to the kitchen, where he took the food from her and placed it on the counter, along with his Colt.
“To what do I owe the honor,” he said.
“I wanted to properly thank you for rescuing me.”
“Rescuing you?”
“From the clutches of the rabid mob.”
“What rabid mob?”
“The disappointed concertgoing mob.”
Jesse didn't say anything.
They looked at each other for a long moment.
“I'm thinking vodka,” she said.
“With tonic, right?”
She smiled at him.
He fixed the drink for her, then excused himself for a moment in order to go upstairs to turn off the TV.
She wandered into the living room.
 
 
 
F
rom the dark corner of the porch, Rollo had witnessed Alexis's arrival. When Jesse left her alone in the living room, Rollo contemplated both his good fortune and how best to take advantage of it.
When she strolled to the French doors, opened them, and stepped outside, he knew that the voices had once again steered him correctly.
 
 
 
A
lexis took a deep breath of sea air and gazed in the direction of the bay. The rising moon cast shadows on the landscape. She was happy to be here, she thought. She felt comfortable in Jesse's environment.
She was completely unprepared for the ferocious attack that came from out of the dark.
A seeming giant of a man flew at her from the shadows. She lost her balance and fell awkwardly to the deck. The man jumped on top of her, knocking the wind out of her.
He straddled her legs with his, which prevented her from moving. Trying to catch her breath, she looked at his distorted face just in time to see him raise his fist and slam it heavily into her jaw. She fought to remain conscious but failed.
Rollo dragged her inside. He took a length of rope from his duffel and tied her arms behind her.
Then he went to the kitchen and picked up the pistol he had seen Jesse place on the counter.
He walked back to Alexis, took a can of lighter fluid from his bag, and emptied it on her.
 
 
 
J
esse heard a strange noise coming from downstairs, but he dismissed it when he realized that Alexis had probably gone onto the porch.
Still,
he thought,
you can't be too careful.
Realizing he had left his pistol downstairs, he reached inside the bureau drawer for his backup, a Smith & Wesson automatic. He put it in his pocket and went downstairs.
 
 
 
T
he smell of lighter fluid greeted him as he entered the living room. Alexis was awkwardly slumped on one of his armchairs, her hands tied behind her. She appeared to be unconscious.
In the darkness behind her stood Rollo Nurse, the Colt Commander trained on Jesse.
“Jesse Stone,” he said. “Remember me?”
Jesse didn't say anything.
“A lot of years. Too many to count. All of them spent in prison, dreaming of this moment,” Rollo said. “I imagined every conceivable possibility, but this is a whole lot better than anything I could've thunk up.”
“Tell me that when it's over,” Jesse said.
“For you it's already over,” Rollo said.
Alexis stirred. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Look at me, Stone,” Rollo said. “Look at my face. This is what you did to me. This is how you left me. Now it's my turn.”
Jesse watched as Alexis came fully awake. He saw her realize that her arms were bound. She smelled the lighter fluid. She became terrified.
Rollo stepped forward.
“Back up, Stone,” he said to Jesse, gesturing with the Colt.
Jesse held his ground.
“Back up, I said.”
Jesse took a step toward Rollo, who shied for an instant, then regained himself. With a wave of the gun, he again urged Jesse to step backward.
He took the throwaway lighter from his pocket. He flicked it into flame a couple of times to make certain it was working.
“Conflagration,” he said to Jesse. “Death by fire. Just like in the Bible. You get to watch your girlfriend burn to death.”
Rollo looked at Alexis, who was now wide awake.
“Nice of you to join us,” he said. “It's much better to experience death with your eyes open, don't you think? Being awake so enriches the event. Stand up.”
Alexis stared at him.
“I said stand up.”
As if to emphasize his point, he flicked the lighter. He made certain she could see the flame. Reluctantly, she stood.
“She's not part of this, Rollo.”
“Wrong, Stone. She is. So she dies. You get to watch.”
Jesse had begun to inch closer to Rollo.
When he realized what Jesse was doing, Rollo fired the Colt in his direction. The bullet missed Jesse and slammed into the wall.
“Looking to be a hero, Stone,” Rollo said. “Try that again and the girlfriend here will get to watch you die. Next time I won't miss.”
Rollo began to nervously flick the lighter on and off.
“All those years,” he said. “Alone in a cell. The best years of my life. Gone to hell. And the headaches. The sickness. All because of what you did to me, Stone. I can't remember things no more. You didn't have to hit me like that. You were drunk. You were out of control. And it was me paid the price.”
Rollo took a step in Jesse's direction, waving the pistol at him.
“Now I'm out of control,” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Now it's you gonna pay the price.”
He looked back at Alexis and approached her. He flicked the lighter, and it leapt into flame. He pointed it at her. She gasped and recoiled. He let it go out.
“Don't be scared, girlfriend,” he said. “After the initial charring, you won't feel a thing.”
With Rollo's attention focused on Alexis, Jesse turned slightly and placed his right hand in the pocket that held the Smith & Wesson. He gripped it.
Rollo fired up the lighter again and this time, he held it closer to Alexis. He moved it toward her clothing. Just as he was about to touch it to her dress, he extinguished the flame.
Alexis screamed.
Rollo laughed.
He fired up the lighter again.
“Stop it,” Jesse said.
When Rollo continued to ignore him, Jesse began to slowly withdraw the pistol from his pocket.
Rollo once again pointed the lighter in Alexis's direction.
She turned away from him.
He was near her, the flame inching closer and closer to her lighter-fluid-drenched clothing.
Suddenly she shifted her hips and kicked her left leg high in the air behind her. She caught Rollo full force in the throat.
He dropped the lighter and the pistol, and grabbed for his neck. Alexis knew she had delivered a lethal blow. She knew she had collapsed his windpipe.
There was terror in Rollo's eyes as he struggled for breath. How could this have happened? The voices were silent. He dropped to his knees.
He noticed the lighter on the floor beside him. Gasping for breath, he picked it up, flicked it into flame, and set Alexis on fire.
The pistol was out of Jesse's pocket. As soon as he saw Rollo extend the lighter, he fired.
The shot ripped into Rollo's head, shattering his skull, killing him instantly.
Alexis's clothing was ablaze. She was screaming.
Jesse leapt at her, knocking her to the ground. He fell on top of her, covering her with his body, attempting to smother the flames.
He ripped the smoldering clothes from her, leaving her naked and trembling on the floor. She moaned in pain.
He grabbed some ice packs from the refrigerator and placed them on her burns.
He reached for his cell phone and called the patrol car that was parked outside. He instructed them to immediately summon an ambulance.
He then untied her arms. He reached for the knitted afghan that was on one of the armchairs. He gently covered her with it.
He knelt down, lifted her up, and cradled her in his arms. She raised her head and looked at him.
“The ice packs are kind of kinky,” she said.
He smiled at her. He held her until the medics knocked on his door.
 
 
 
D
r. Lifland had insisted that Alexis spend the night in the hospital. Although her burns proved not to be life threatening, they were burns nonetheless, and the doctor wanted to keep her under observation for at least twenty-four hours. He was concerned about the possibility of infection, as well as pain management.

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