Robert Parker - Death in Paradise

They had dinner in Cambridge, at a new restaurant called Oleanna, which Jenn was frantic to try. The restaurant was good, but Jesse knew it meant they probably weren't going to sleep together. When Jenn was prepared to have sex she always came to Paradise and spent the night with Jesse. He rarely spent the night at her place. Someday, when the balance between them wasn't so delicate, maybe he'd ask her why. For now he knew it was an evening that would end when he drove her home.

"Have you been drinking lately?" Jenn said in the car.

"Now and then," Jesse said.

"You didn't drink anything tonight."

"No."

"Why not?" Jenn said.

"Scared to, I guess," Jesse said.

"Scared of what?"

"Scared it will get out."

"It?"

"How I feel. I love you. I'm mad at you. I'm jealous. I'm full of, hell, I don't know, yearning, I guess. I have to keep it in its cage."

"And you're afraid if you drink it will jump out."

"Yeah."

"So you drink alone?"

"Yeah."

"So if it gets out there's no one around."

Jesse nodded. He could feel Jenn looking at him.

"What I don't understand," Jenn said, "is, if you can choose not to drink sometimes, why can't you choose not to drink all the time?"

"I don't know."

They drove over the Longfellow Bridge in silence.

When they reached the Charles Street circle, Jenn said, "You need help with this, Jesse."

Jesse shrugged.

"You don't have to start big," Jenn said. "Maybe just talk to a guy, about drinking."

"You know a guy?" Jesse said.

"Yes."

"How do you know a guy?"

"My shrink told me."

"You been talking about me in therapy?" Jesse said.

Jenn laughed gently. "Of course," she said. "Would you go talk to this guy? I can make you an appointment."

"He a psychiatrist?"

"No. He's not a doctor. He's just somebody that has had some success helping people with drinking."

"You ever meet him?"

"Yes. I went to see him."

"About me?"

"Yes."

It went through him viscerally, shimmering along the nerve traces. Jolting his stomach. He was part of her therapy. She was trying to help him. He was still in her life. He mattered.

"If I go," Jesse said, "I can make the appointment."

Molly was at the front desk when Jesse came into the station carrying coffee in a paper cup.

"We found Dr. Levine," Molly said.

"Billie's dentist."

"Yes. Suit brought the dental chart over that we got off the body."

"And?"

"It's her."

Jesse nodded. There was no satisfaction in it. He sort of wished it wasn't Billie.

"You call that phone number from Sister Mary John?"

"Yes," Molly said, and looked down at her notepad. "Development Associates of Boston. Nobody there ever heard of Billie."

"Or so they say."

Molly smiled. "Or so they say."

"What's the address there?" Jesse said.

Molly gave it to him. "You going to talk with them?"

"Yes."

"Before you go we need to talk about Mr. and Mrs. Snyder," Molly said.

"The Bickersons?"

"She's in the hospital."

"How bad?" Jesse said.

"Nothing fatal-concussion, couple of fractures. The ER called us."

"Her husband put her there?"

"That's what she told the ER doctor."

"Didn't we send her down there the last time we had them in?"

"Yes. They found a lot of old injuries."

"And?"

"She swore they were skiing injuries. Said her husband didn't hit her," Molly said. "DeAngelo talked with an assistant DA who said if she stuck to her story, there wasn't enough of a case."

"I figured that," Jesse said. "I was hoping he might get scared."

"Booze," Molly said.

Jesse nodded.

"So how come she's blowing the whistle this time?"

"Maybe enough is enough," Molly said. "Suit's on his way there to get a statement."

"If she sticks with it," Jesse said, "arrest the husband, read him his rights. Call the DA's office."

"You going to go see the people at-" She looked down at her notebook again. "-Development Associates of Boston?"

"Yeah."

"If this Snyder thing gets complicated, I'll call you."

"Molly, you run this station better than I do," Jesse said.

"I know," Molly said. "But the sexist bastards made you chief."

"Oh," Jesse said. "Yeah."

Development Associates of Boston was in the South End, not far from the Cyclorama, one flight down, with a plate-glass window looking out onto the cement stairway. The room had been recycled from whatever it used to be. The walls were old brick and the beams had been exposed and sandblasted. The young man at the reception desk had curly black hair and big blue eyes. He was very good-looking.

"Hi," Jesse said, "the boss in?"

"Do you have an appointment?" the young man said.

Jesse showed him his badge. The young man looked at it closely.

"What police department is that?" he said.

" Paradise," Jesse said. " North Shore."

"And what was it about?"

"I'll talk to the boss."

"Mr. Fish never sees anyone without an appointment," the young man said.

"And your name is?" Jesse said.

"Alan Garner." The young man widened his eyes and smiled again. "Is your interest personal or professional?"

Jesse put his badge away.

"Alan," Jesse said, "we can do this easy, or we can do it hard. Easy is I go in and sit with your boss and discuss my case. Hard is I go get a Boston cop and we bring your boss in for questioning."

The young man smiled at Jesse again. No hard feelings.

"I'll talk to Mr. Fish," he said, and went through a curtained archway.

Jesse looked around. There were framed prints of sailboats, and a hanging lamp with a dark green shade. The furniture was the kind of bleached oak that was bought secondhand in Europe and refinished and sold at a large profit in the USA. Mr. Fish. The name was familiar. It had come up in a case Jesse had when he first came to Paradise. Not a common name.

The good-looking young man came back into the room and smiled again at Jesse.

"Surprise, surprise," he said.

"Mr. Fish will see me," Jesse said.

"You bet," the young man said, and gestured Jesse in.

A tall, lean man with a shaved head and long, graceful fingers sat behind a big oak table in a room that was just like the anteroom but bigger.

"I'm Gino Fish," he said.

It had to be him , Jesse thought, how many Gino Fishes are there ?

"Jesse Stone."

Against the wall to Gino's left and Jesse's right sat a compact man with an expressionless face. Jesse could almost feel the force of his meaningless stare.

"And you are?" Jesse said.

"My associate," Fish said, "Vinnie Morris."

"I'm looking for a girl," Jesse said, "named Billie Bishop."

"And why are you looking here?" Fish said.

"She told someone she could be reached at this phone number."

Fish stared at Jesse for a long moment before he spoke.

"Vinnie, do we know anyone named Billie Bishop?"

Vinnie shook his head.

"I guess we don't," Fish said.

"You have any explanation for the phone number?"

"None."

"What does Development Associates do?" Jesse asked.

"Development and marketing," Gino said.

"Development and marketing of what?" Jesse said.

"Our best interests," Gino said.

"Do you remember developing and marketing a little something with a guy named JoJo Genest?"

"No."

"Hasty Hathaway?"

"No."

"Gino," Jesse said. "I'm not sure you're leveling with me."

"Why wouldn't I level with you, Jesse?" Gino said. "We've been close personal friends for what, five or six minutes?"

"Of course," Jesse said.

He put a business card on Gino's desk.