Robert Parker - Death in Paradise

"Can't win 'em all," Jesse said.

"She might have won this one," Molly said.

"Yeah," Jesse said. "Maybe she did."

"You have anything to do with it?"

"With what?"

"With him not hitting her anymore."

Jesse shrugged.

"You had a talk with him, didn't you," Molly said.

Jesse smiled.

"Nothing official," he said.

"And, let me guess," Molly said. "You told him if he ever touched her unkindly again you would do something really scary to him."

"I'm the chief of police in this town, Moll. I can't go around threatening the very citizens I'm sworn to protect."

"Of course you can't," Molly said. "Cop named Kelly called from Boston. Said he had an address for that phone number, if you want to go visit."

"Good."

"Suit still on surveillance in Boston?" Molly said.

"No."

"Good," Molly said. "It's been mucking up the vacation schedules."

"It has," Jesse said.

"This call from Kelly, is it about Billie?"

"I hope so."

"You getting anywhere?"

"I think so."

"We got an official suspect yet?"

"No."

"Are we planning not to talk about it," Molly said, "until we know what we're talking about?"

"It's an approach I'm experimenting with," Jesse said. "I'm going into Boston. I'll be gone most of the day. We got any police business to talk about before I go?"

"We might want to talk about how come I mostly run the department and you get the chief's salary."

"Sexism," Jesse said, "would be my guess."

Molly smiled and left the office. Jesse finished his coffee and phoned Kelly.

"It's an address in Brighton," Kelly said. "I'll meet you in front of the new Star Market in the shopping center on Western Ave."

"An hour," Jesse said.

They were in Kelly's car, in front of a gray three-decker in Brighton.

"Pollinger's alibi holds up," Kelly said. "Tour company says he was in London when Billie got killed."

Jesse nodded.

"What's this kid's name?" he said.

"Phone listing is D. P. Davis."

"Dawn," Jesse said.

"Maybe."

The building had been painted brown a long time ago. Much of the paint had flaked away and a lot of bare gray clapboard was showing. There was no front yard. The first of the three front steps was hard against the sidewalk. The name Davis and the number 3 A were written with black Magic Marker above one of the doorbells. Jesse rang it. Nothing happened.

"You're a small-town cop," Kelly said. "You don't know how to do it right."

He put his thumb on the bell and kept it there. Nothing happened.

"That how it's done?" Jesse said.

"Could be no one home," Kelly said.

"Or the bell's broken."

"But the front door's unlocked," Kelly said.

"Wow," Jesse said.

"A trained professional," Kelly said.

They went into the dank hallway and up two flights of sagging stairs. The stairwell was dark. There was a burned-out lightbulb in an old porcelain ceiling fixture at each landing. At the dark top of the stairs Jesse knocked on the door.

"It's good practice," he said. "How else do I learn?"

He knocked again. There was the sound of movement. Then silence. Then the door opened on its chain.

A young female voice said, "Come back later."

The door started to shut but Jesse put his foot in the opening.

"Dawn Davis?"

"What do you want?"

"Boston Police," Kelly said.

He held up his badge.

"Police?"

"Yep."

"It's too dark," she said. "I can't see what you're holding up."

Kelly put the badge into the door opening.

"You got a light in there?" he said.

"I guess so."

"Turn it on," he said.

There was silence for a moment, and then a light went on inside the apartment. The girl was a shadow in the narrow door opening. She stared at the badge for a time.

"Whaddya want?" she said.

"We want to come in and talk with you," Kelly said.

"About what?"

"About whether or not to kick in this door and bust you as a material witness in a homicide investigation," Kelly said.

"I didn't kill nobody," the girl said.

"Open the fucking door," Jesse said.

The girl didn't answer for a moment, then she made a shadowy movement that might have been a shrug.

"Okay," she said. "Get your foot out so I can take the chain off."

The shades were down. The room was dark except for a light from the bare bulb of a table lamp on the floor. A cookstove was against the back wall, and a sink. The floor was a brick-pattern linoleum, scuffed away in places to show the narrow floorboards underneath. There was a box spring and mattress with no sheets and a thick down comforter rumpled with sleep. There were clothes piled on the floor. A half-open door revealed a narrow bathroom with tile walls and an old tub.

"You ought to charge more," Kelly said.

"For what?" the girl said.

She was a small girl, with big dark eyes that dominated her face. She was wearing jeans and a pink sweatshirt. The sleeves were too long and concealed her hands. She was barefooted and, except for a hint of bosom under the sweatshirt, looked about nine.

"Dawn," Jesse said. "We've talked with T. P. Pollinger."

"Who?"

Jesse realized that she might not know who Pollinger was. Just a John, at an address. One of many.

"Money manager in the Back Bay," Jesse said. "I followed you there on Monday, after Alan Garner gave you the address."

She bent down and picked up a pack of Virginia Slims, got a cigarette out of the pack, got a butane lighter out of her pocket, and lit the cigarette.

"So?"

"So we got prostitution if we want to arrest you," Kelly said.

"So?"

Jesse looked at Kelly. They both smiled. She was a little girl alone in a run-down apartment with two men, and she was being tough. They both knew that the bravado of young kids was rooted mostly in ignorance. If they just braved it out they could get away with it. She was wrong this time, but both of them admired her a little.

"So," Jesse said. "We don't want to do that if you don't make us. What we want is Garner."

She stared at both of them.

"What do you want Alan for?"

"Do you know a girl named Billie Bishop?" Jesse said.

"No. Why are you after Alan?"

"He might be involved in a homicide we're investigating," Kelly said.

"Alan wouldn't kill anybody."

Kelly sighed and took his handcuffs from his belt.

"Dawn Davis," Kelly said. "You are under arrest for prostitution. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney to assist you during questioning…"

"Hey, come on," Dawn said.

"Turn around," Kelly said. "Put your hands together behind your back."

"Hey. No. Wait a minute, what do you want to know?"

"Is Alan Garner your pimp?" Jesse said.

"Well, he's not really a pimp. I mean, you know. He's nice."

"Does he arrange for you to meet men, and does he take a portion of the money you receive for sexual favors?" Jesse said.

"Yes."

"How'd you meet him?"

"Alan?"

"Un-huh."

"Around," she said.

"He pick you up?" Kelly said.

"Yes. He bought me lunch, and we talked. He was really nice."

"Were you soliciting?"

"No."

"Did he pick you up near the shelter?"

"Yes. It's like we were going along in the same direction and we started talking."

"He initiate?" Kelly said.

"What?"

"He start talking first?" Jesse said.

"I don't know. I guess so. I wouldn't have just started talking to some guy."

"Unless you'd become a working girl," Kelly said.

"I wasn't then, honest to God."

"That start with Garner?" Jesse said.

"I guess so."

Both men were quiet. Kelly put the cuffs back on his belt at the small of his back.