Роберт Паркер - The Bitterest Pill

She didn’t fool herself that this would be her final act of debasement or treachery, but she had learned not to think too far ahead or to assume there was a bottom to hit or how low it would be. She would do this thing, and when everyone was sure they had who they were looking for, she would vanish. She had done things like this before and didn’t think this would be especially hard to pull off. A careless whisper, a note, and it would be done.

Jesse stopped the pounding. It was no good. He would never get used to this style of glove. He was an old dog who had learned some new tricks, but there were some he didn’t choose to learn. He put the glove down and booted up his computer. He spotted the email from Lundquist that came with an attachment. Jesse clicked open the attachment. It was a series of time- and date-stamped still shots gleaned from Helton CCTV footage. The white van that had shown up on footage from Kennedy Park was prominently featured in these shots from Helton. They showed the van both entering and leaving town. It had also appeared on street cameras. The one shot that got Jesse’s attention was a photo taken by a red-light camera. The license plate was obscured, but the face of the driver was clear. It was a face Jesse recognized, a brutal one. It was the face of the man who had guarded the door at the storefront clinic in Roxbury.

By the time Jesse emerged from his office, Gabe Weathers had replaced Suit at the desk. Molly was off the desk for the day, as she was going to accompany Jesse to the high school. It was a sad commentary on the state of things, but Jesse made sure to have a female officer with him whenever questioning a female subject or suspect. With Alisha fired, that duty always fell to Molly.

“You ready, Molly?”

She nodded. “The files are in the car.”

“Gabe, anything comes up...”

“I know where to find you, Jesse.”

At first, they made small talk. It didn’t last. Jesse reiterated that the people to be interviewed had the right to refuse or to be accompanied by a union rep or lawyer.

“Just remind them that if they refuse this interview, we’ll do what we did with Petra North. We’ll make it formal and do it in the interview room at the station.”

“I know, Jesse.” Molly then broached the inevitable question. “So, did you discuss it with her?”

Jesse understood who Molly was talking about. “I did.”

“Anything? Did Maryglenn explain herself at all?”

“No.”

Seeing the look on Jesse’s face, Molly dropped it. Even aside from interrogating Maryglenn, neither of them looked forward to this exercise. While there was a chance more than one teacher was involved in the drug supply chain or that their intel was wrong, they both thought either unlikely. And this sort of mass interview was a clunky way to go about it, but until there was more specific information or until they caught a break, it seemed like their only option. When they got to the school, Molly reminded Jesse of something that had almost slipped her mind.

“Chris Grimm’s burial is this afternoon, but we won’t have time.”

“We’ll make time. We need to be there.”

With that, they got out of the car and headed to Principal Wester’s office.

Virginia Wester was no happier about this approach to finding the suspect than Jesse and Molly were, nor any more enthused than she had been when it was proposed.

“Jesse, this is causing real turmoil. The school board is furious, and all the union reps... you can imagine.”

“If another student dies,” he said, “that will be real turmoil.”

Wester had Freda walk Molly and Jesse to an empty office in the administrative suite, in which there was a desk and several chairs.

Freda said, “Virginia has instructed me to help you any way I can.”

Jesse smiled. “Thank you, Freda. You will escort Molly to get each person we want to interview, and you can escort them back here. Between interviews, you can do your work. We want to interfere as little as possible.” He pulled a file out of the stack. “Let’s start with Joan Grace.”

The interviews with Joan Grace, Tricia Allen, Ellen Schare, Marla Bayles, Jaqueline Goodwin, and Ming Parson were all of a type. They were unsettled to begin with, and when they sat across from a silent, blank-faced Jesse Stone, their levels of anxiety rose considerably. They all babbled nervously at first, just like their male counterparts would have. Most expressed a dislike of being suspected and claimed no knowledge of the drug problem in school. They all denied any involvement. Jesse believed them. He thanked them for their time, apologized for upsetting them, and wished them well.

It wasn’t until Molly and Freda escorted Wendy Sherman into the office that things changed.

Wendy, a history teacher, was in her mid-thirties, with shoulder-length dark auburn hair, bright brown eyes, and a normally white and cheery smile. She wasn’t smiling when she sat down across from Jesse and seemed much edgier than the other women had been. She kept looking over her shoulder at Freda, as if she was more unnerved by the principal’s administrative assistant than she was by Jesse and Molly.

Jesse picked up on the cue, and while still standing to greet Wendy, said, “Thank you, Freda.”

Even after Freda had left, Wendy kept checking over her shoulder. Molly had noticed, too, and said, “What is it, Wendy? What’s wrong?”

“I swear someone just left this for me on my desk.” The teacher reached into her bag and handed Jesse a computer-generated note.

Jesse, holding the paper at the edge between the nails of his left thumb and index finger, read the note. He wagged his finger at Molly to come read the note as well. Without having to be told, Molly left the office.

“How many people have seen this note and how many people have touched it?” Jesse asked.

“Just me.”

But Jesse sensed Wendy had more to say.

“Wendy, if you have more to add, I need to hear it.”

“But... I like — she’s a friend, Jesse. We all like her.”

Thinking of Gino Fish and Vinnie Morris, Jesse said, “I like people who’ve done bad things, too.”

“There have been rumors about her... you know.”

“Please don’t make this harder for both of us, Wendy.”

“Just this morning, at the Keurig machine, I heard people talking about how they’d seen her spending a lot of time with Chris Grimm and Petra North.”

“People? What people?”

“I don’t remember, people, the other teachers who were standing around the machine behind me,” Wendy said. She was on the verge of tears.

Jesse didn’t believe Wendy couldn’t remember, but it was always the same. It didn’t matter if it was the police department, a school faculty, or a baseball team. No one wants to be a rat. And while she could justify passing the note on to Jesse, it would be harder for Wendy to justify naming names not mentioned in the note.

“That’s okay, Wendy.”

Molly reentered the office. She held an evidence bag and two pairs of gloves. Both of them gloved up and placed the note inside the evidence bag. That done, Jesse removed his gloves, stood up, and took the note.

“Wendy,” he said, “Molly will take a full statement from you about the note. We need that on the record. Thank you. I’m sorry if this has been stressful.”

First, he had to get Principal Wester. Then he had to search the supply closet in the art room, where he was sure he would find drugs.

Maryglenn took the cuffs being clicked about her wrists by Molly without incident. They had escorted her outside and had moved the cruiser to a side entrance, out of sight of the students, before they cuffed her. There had been no protestations of innocence or of a setup, though she and Jesse knew that both of those things were true. Well, he was sure that Maryglenn had been set up. He was less certain of her innocence as a state of being. No one hiding their past is innocent, but of her innocence concerning the drugs, Jesse was sure. Jesse’s certainty, however, would not stand up in court, not against what they had found in a box at the back of the art supply closet.