Robert Parker - Death in Paradise

"Sure."

"Don't tell," she said. "Don't swell. Grateful as hell."

"I've heard that," Jesse said.

Dick Pettler had an office over a sandwich shop on Broad Street, across the street from a Japanese restaurant. The sign on his office door read R. J. PETTLER, INQUIRIES. Jesse went in.

Pettler was tall and bony with rimless glasses.

"Mark Hillenbrand called me," Pettler said. "Told me you'd be coming by."

"You did the snoop work on Norman Shaw's divorce from Felicia Feinman," Jesse said.

Pettler smiled, his teeth gleaming.

"I like to call it discreet inquiry," he said.

"But you did it?"

"Sure."

"You got affidavits from several hookers," Jesse said.

"I could have gotten them from a hundred," Pettler said.

"How old were they?"

Pettler rocked back in his swivel chair and looked thoughtfully at Jesse.

"Pretty good question," he said.

Jesse nodded.

"They were babies," Pettler said. "I can't guarantee how old, but they all looked about thirteen."

"He have an MO?" Jesse said.

"Sure. He'd meet them in a motel, sometimes four, five nights a week. Couple times he had more than one in the same night."

"Same motel?"

"Usually."

"Boundary Suites," Jesse said.

"Hey," Pettler said, "pretty good. Yeah. Boundary Suites right there in your neighborhood."

"He take them there?"

Pettler shook his head.

"Nope. When he got there, with me behind him, he'd go straight to the motel room. You know Boundary Suites?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you know it's a lovers' hideaway," Pettler said. "Drive up to the door of the room. Go right in. No lobby to go through. Nobody to see you."

"You know how he set it up?" Jesse said.

"Nope. I assume by phone."

"You know who supplied them?"

"Nope. Not my job."

"The girls always very young?" Jesse said.

"Everyone I saw."

"If I needed you in court, could you prove what you're saying?"

"Sure. I got photos. You want to see?"

Pettler got up and went to the gray metal file cabinet to the left of his window. He took out a folder and brought it back and put it on the front of his desk where Jesse could look through it. There were pictures of a clearly recognizable Norman Shaw and different very young women, in sexually explicit action in a motel room. Shaw looked better than he did now. His belly seemed flat and he had more hair.

"Through the window?" Jesse said.

"Yeah. There's a little hill behind the room. I'd go around there with a telephoto. He never shut the lights off."

"Or pulled the curtains."

"Maybe he liked people to watch," Pettler said.

"Maybe you been doing this too long," Jesse said.

"Maybe I'm right," Pettler said.

"You never saw him pick up these kids?"

"Nope. Never saw him pick up anybody," Pettler said. "Just showed up at the motel. Stayed a couple of hours and went home. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am."

"You never saw anybody deliver them?"

"Nope. Shaw was my job. I was behind him. The broads were already there when he arrived."

"And you don't know anything about his habits after the divorce?"

"Nope. But I'll bet he hasn't changed," Pettler said. "I don't know shit about psychology. But I'd say this is a guy doing something he needs to do, you know? Has to do."

"I'd like to copy these pictures," Jesse said. "I'll see that you get them back."

"Keep 'em," Pettler said. "I still got the negatives."

Jesse stood and put out his hand.

"Thanks," he said.

Pettler shook hands without getting up.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you want to know all this?" he said.

"That's right," Jesse said. "I'm not."

"Not my job, anyway," Pettler said.

"We still can't connect Shaw with Billie Bishop," Jesse said.

He and Kelly were in Kelly's car parked along Day Boulevard near Carson Beach. They had coffee in paper cups. A bag of donuts was on the seat between them.

"Everything but," Kelly said.

"But we still can't connect him specifically to Billie Bishop."

"Or Billie Bishop with Alan Garner," Kelly said.

"Or Shaw with Garner," Jesse said.

"Shaw's the one," Kelly said.

"You think?"

"Yeah. The sonovabitch jumps out at you."

"Nice if we could prove it."

"At least we know where to look," Kelly said.

"What we can prove," Jesse said, "is that Shaw likes young hookers."

"And that he took them to a motel on the North Shore, and Billie Bishop checked into that same hotel."

"Can we prove that he took Billie Bishop there?" Jesse said.

"You tell me," Kelly said.

"No."

"And if we could prove he took her there, can we prove that he killed her?"

"No."

They were silent. Kelly took a cinnamon donut out of the bag and shook it to get rid of the loose cinnamon.

"The only connection we've got is Garner to Shaw through Gino Fish," Jesse said.

Kelly took a bite of the donut, leaning far forward over the steering wheel so as not to get cinnamon on himself.

"Because Billie Bishop called Gino's phone number," he said.

"Yeah. But it might be that she called Garner at Gino's office."

"I don't like Gino for this," Kelly said.

"Because?"

"Not his style," Kelly said. "Why would Gino pimp for a fucking pedophile? Risk is big and money's small."

"Favor for a friend?" Jesse said.

"Gino?"

"He doesn't value friendship?" Jesse said.

"He's never experienced it."

"So you think Garner was working out of Gino's office?"

"And maybe Gino don't know nothing about it."

"Which makes the Shaw connection kind of a problem," Jesse said.

"Big coincidence," Kelly said.

"You can't assume coincidence," Jesse said.

"No you can't," Kelly said. "Garner could know Shaw through Gino."

"So?"

"So we're right where we were," Kelly said.

Jesse broke off a piece of cinnamon donut and popped it in his mouth. He chewed carefully and took a sip of coffee.

"How would Gino feel if he found out Garner was running a prostitution business out of Gino's office?"

"He would be offended," Kelly said.

They were both silent, watching a flatbed tow truck hook up to a Dodge pickup that was parked in a tow zone. A motorcycle cop was supervising.

"You think we're next?" Jesse said.

"Traffic division's a menace," Kelly said.

The tow truck driver squirmed under the pickup and hooked his cable on the frame. Then he stood beside his truck and worked the lever and the pickup began to winch up onto the flatbed.

"So," Jesse said. "If Garner found out we knew about him, and were planning to talk with Gino about it…"

Kelly smiled and said, "Bingo!"

There were two blue-and-white Paradise cruisers, one pulled up onto the sidewalk, nose in, blue rights still flashing, parked in front of the Atlantic Market. Jesse parked on the street behind them and got out. Behind the car that was up on the sidewalk were Anthony DeAngelo and Eddie Cox. Cox had a shotgun.

"Hostage," Anthony DeAngelo told him. "I think it's Snyder and his wife. You know, the one beat her up all the time?"

"Where are they?"

"Back of the store, I think," DeAngelo said. "By the service counter."

"Anybody else?"

"Some customers. Couple of store people. I don't know yet how many."

"Anybody here from the store?"

"We got one of the cashiers," Cox said. "She's the one came running out hollering. Store manager's on his way."

"Got the back covered?"

"Suit and Buddy."

"Anybody made contact?"

"I went to the front door," DeAngelo said. "Guy yells at me from the back. Says he'll kill her and everybody else if I try to come in."