Authors: Robert B. Parker

Split Image (10 page)

BOOK: Split Image

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"Yes," he said. "I do."

She smiled faintly.

"Did it happen more than once?" Jesse said.

"Many," Natalya said.

"But you don't know who?"

"No."

"Could it have been more than one?" Jesse said.

Natalya looked at Nicolas Ognowski.

"Petrov liked women," Ognowski said.

"Doesn't mean it got him killed," Jesse said.

"It is a clue," Ognowski said. "More than you had before we came."

"True," Jesse said.

"You will find him," Ognowski said. "Or I will. If I do, it will save you much trouble."

"And if I warned you to stay out of it?" Jesse said.

Ognowski stared silently at Jesse.

Then he said, "Petrov was my only son."

Jesse nodded.

"Anything else you can tell me?" he said.

"That is all we know," Ognowski said.

"Where can I get in touch with you?" Jesse said.

"I will get in touch with you," Ognowski said.

He stood. Natalya stood as soon as he did.

"You would not let me walk over you," Ognowski said.

"No," Jesse said.

"Many people do."

"You have a lot of presence," Jesse said.

Ognowski nodded.

"It is a good sign that you would not," he said.

When he left, Jesse walked to the front of the station with him and stood in the front door of the station and watched them get into a waiting cab. As it pulled away, Jesse took down the hack number of the cab. Then he looked at Molly.

"Jesus Christ," Molly said, and holstered her gun.

I
T'S FUNNY," Sunny said to Dr. Silverman, as they sat in Dr. Silverman's office. "I have such conflicting emotions when I come to see you."

Dr. Silverman nodded almost imperceptibly. It was one of her nondirective "let's talk about that" signs.

"I mean, I'm hoping to get well," Sunny said. "And I'm eager to find out more about myself. But I also hate to have to face some of what I find out. And I hate to have to admit it to you."

Dr. Silverman nodded and waited.

"But besides all of those kinds of conflicting emotions," Sunny said, "I am always eager to see what you're wearing."

Dr. Silverman tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. It was her "tell me about that" sign.

"You are beautiful, of course," Sunny said. "But you are also the most perfectly pulled-together woman I've ever seen."

" 'Pulled together,' " Dr. Silverman said.

Well,
Sunny thought,
she remains calm in the face of praise.

"I mean, everything fits, and everything matches, and everything is appropriate," Sunny said. "It's not just pulled together. It's . . . You're very complete."

Dr. Silverman nodded and waited again.

"Or is all of that just transference?" Sunny said.

Dr. Silverman smiled.

"I hope not," she said.

Sunny laughed.

"It's not like I run around gushing to women friends about how complete they seem."

" 'Complete,' " Dr. Silverman said.

"You know, everything works. Competent. Contained. In control. The way you look is like a . . . like a symbol of how you are."

Dr. Silverman nodded. Sunny was quiet.

After a time, Dr. Silverman said, "Of course, you have no way of knowing how I am."

Sunny stared at her.

"Well," Sunny said, after a while. "I see you twice a week, and have for some time now."

"And what do we always talk about?" Dr. Silverman said.

Sunny was silent for a moment. Then she smiled slightly.

"Me," Sunny said.

Dr. Silverman nodded.

"So why have I constructed this whole portrait of you based basically on how you look."

"It might be interesting to know," Dr. Silverman said.

They sat quietly.

"Well, you are attractive," Sunny said. "And you're accomplished--you know, Harvard Ph.D. psychotherapist. Successful relationship?"

Dr. Silverman didn't answer.

"Of course," Sunny said. "It's about me, not you."

Dr. Silverman made a faint assenting movement with her head. Sunny sat back a little in her chair and looked at the ceiling while she thought.

"So why do I need you to be the woman I described?"

More silence. Then Dr. Silverman broke it.

"Do you know any women like the one you've described?" Dr. Silverman said.

"No," Sunny said. "Not really."

"Do you know anyone like that?" Dr. Silverman said. "Male or female?"

"My father," Sunny said. "And . . . I guess my ex-husband."

There was more quiet.

"My father," Sunny said. "And my ex-husband. There must be something pretty shrinky there."

Dr. Silverman nodded without exactly agreeing. Sunny never quite knew how she stayed so noncommittal.

"Are you that woman?" Dr. Silverman said.

"Me?"

Dr. Silverman nodded.

"God, no," Sunny said.

"Would you like to be that woman?" Dr. Silverman said.

Sunny looked at the ceiling some more. Then she lowered her eyes and looked at Dr. Silverman.

"Aha!" she said.

I
TALKED to the cab company," Molly told Jesse. "They said the cabbie picked up Mr. Ognowski and his daughter-in-law in front of the Four Seasons Hotel in Boston, took them here, then back to the Four Seasons."

Jesse nodded.

"I called the hotel, and Ognowski's not registered there."

"Call around," Jesse said.

"Could be there under another name," Molly said.

Jesse nodded.

"Or he could be elsewhere and picked up a cab there because it was handy, or to confuse us."

Jesse nodded.

"I'll call around," Molly said.

"Good idea," Jesse said.

Molly started to leave. Then she stopped and closed the door and turned back to Jesse.

"How are you?" she said.

"That's not entirely clear," Jesse said.

"You talk to that shrink?"

"Dix," Jesse said. "Yes."

"What does he say?"

"He nods and says, 'Um-hm.' "

"Which means?" Molly said.

Jesse smiled.

"I think it means, 'We'll talk about it some more,' " Jesse said.

"You believe in that stuff?" Molly said.

"Shrinkage?" Jesse said. "I'm hopeful."

"You think it's helped you?"

"I'm better than I was," Jesse said.

Molly nodded.

"Ever hear from your ex?" Molly said.

"No."

Molly was silent for a moment. Jesse waited.

"How about you and Sunny," Molly said.

"We're fine," Jesse said.

"What's 'fine' mean?" Molly said.

"Means I don't want to talk about it."

Molly nodded.

"That's what I thought it meant," she said. "Sunny's a nice woman."

"So are you," Jesse said.

Molly smiled.

"True," she said. "But I'm married."

"And Sunny isn't," Jesse said.

"Exactly."

"She's divorced," Jesse said. "But she's not out of it yet."

"And you are?"

"Yes."

"Which," Molly said, "is why you drank yourself into a coma last week?"

"That was regret," Jesse said. "I am done with Jenn."

Molly nodded.

"I appreciate what you did to cover for me while I was in the coma," Jesse said.

"Suit, too," Molly said.

"I know," Jesse said. "You went further out on a limb for me than you had any good reason to."

"You're a good cop, Jesse. We didn't want one excess to end your career."

"There's been more than one," Jesse said. "But I thank you. Being a cop is what I've got right now."

"You have us," Molly said.

" 'Us'? "

"The Paradise police department, all of us, like your family."

"Some family," Jesse said.

"Just remember that we love you, Jesse," Molly said. "All of us."

"You, too?" Jesse said.

"Me especially," Molly said.

"Does that mean that you and I could. . . ?"

"No," Molly said. "It doesn't."

She grinned at him.

"But you could maybe promote me to sergeant instead," Molly said. "You know, as a gesture of gratitude?"

"Absolutely not," Jesse said.

Molly sighed loudly and spoke.

"Maybe I should have said yes."

T
HEY WERE on the Southeast Expressway, with Suit driving. "Why are we going to Hempstead?" Suit said.

"See what we can find out about Rebecca and Roberta Bangston," Jesse said.

"They're from Hempstead?"

"Yep."

"Who we gonna talk with?" Suit said.

"Start with the Hempstead chief of police."

"Wow," Suit said. "Two in the same room. What am I doing there?"

Jesse grinned.

"We may need coffee," he said.

Suit nodded.

"It's good to be useful," he said.

Hempstead was the most affluent town in the southern commuter suburbs. The police station was white clapboard with green shutters.

"Slick," Suit said, as he got out of the car.

"What's wrong with red brick?" Jesse said.

"You see an awful lot of it," Suit said.

"I suppose," Jesse said.

The chief's office was big. It had a big desk, and a big American flag, and big windows, which overlooked a golf course. The chief was dark-haired and overweight, but his uniform was tailored to fit.

"Howard Parrott," he said, when Jesse came in.

"Jesse Stone," Jesse said. "And Luther Simpson."

They all shook hands.

"We're down here looking into a couple of former residents," Jesse said. "Twins, who, when they lived here, were Roberta and Rebecca Bangston."

"The Bangstons are a well-known family here," Parrott said.

"You know them?"

"I knew Mr. and Mrs. Bangston," Parrott said. "Had a big place on the water. Had a huge picnic every year, raised a lot of money for Catholic charities."

"The twins would be about forty-one," Jesse said.

"So they graduated high school in 1986," Parrott said.

He grinned.

"I'm not that quick at math," he said. "One of my nephews graduated that year. My sister's kid. I was a patrolman then, kids had a huge beer party, and we had to break it up. I hadn't been there, he'da been tossed in the clink."

"What's an uncle for," Jesse said.

"You got that right," Parrott said. "To serve and protect, and get your nephew off."

Parrott grinned again and leaned back in his chair.

"Now he's a cop, too," Parrott said. "Works for me."

"Probably grateful," Jesse said.

"Sure," Parrott said. "He was a kid, you know. You guys ever drink too much?"

Suit nodded.

Jesse said, "Now and then."

"Sure," Parrott said. "Me, too. Why are you interested in the Bangston girls?"

"Roberta's husband was murdered," Jesse said.

"Really? What a shame. You suspect the girls?"

"Nope."