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Authors: Michael Brandman

BOOK: Killing the Blues
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“I shall.”
“And my altogether best wishes to you, Jesse Stone,” Gino said.
“I kind of figured that, too,” Jesse said.
54
A
lthough Jesse ordered a neighborhood dragnet, it turned up no sign of Rollo Nurse. He seemed to have vanished.
No animal killings were reported. There were no more fires. Outwardly, Paradise regained its sense of normalcy. The police department, however, was on the highest level of alert.
Jesse returned home, weary, prepared to spend the next several days restoring the contents of his house. When he parked at the entrance to the footbridge, he discovered the Striar Brothers delivery van. The driver and his assistant were just leaving.
“The bed's as good as new, Jesse,” the driver said. Jesse looked at him.
“Mr. Striar made certain we got it on the truck today.”
The two men waved to Jesse as they pulled away.
Jesse crossed the footbridge and went inside. He was astonished by what he saw.
The house had been completely restored. The broken, vandalized pieces were gone. New furniture had replaced the old.
In the center of the refurbished living room stood Molly, with an enormous grin on her face.
Jesse stared at her.
“I'll be expecting something extra in my paycheck,” she said.
Jesse was quiet.
“I don't provide this kind of service to just any bozo, you know,” she said.
Jesse still didn't say anything.
“Shame you can't be silent more often,” Molly said.
“This is incredible.”
“You have a lot of friends in this town, Jesse.”
“But . . .”
“I wish I had videotaped what went on here today.”
“Do you want to tell me about it,” he said.
“Can I use big words?”
Jesse didn't say anything.
“Rennie's Cleaning was here first. They salvaged what they could and carted off the rest. The merchants tripped all over themselves in an effort to replace what had been destroyed. There were so many trucks, the drivers were forced to line up and wait their turn for delivery.”
“How can I afford this,” he said.
“You won't have to,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“The items were all deeply discounted. Tokens of how much people around here appreciate you, Jesse. Don't ask me why.”
“I can't accept them. I can't take gifts,” he said.
“Board of selectmen paid for them.”
“What?”
“The board of selectmen went into emergency session, and after consulting with each merchant, they agreed to create a special fund to pay for it all. It was a unanimous vote, by the way.”
Jesse didn't say anything.
He looked around. There was a new love seat on the porch, new leather armchairs in the living room. A new TV. New dishware and glasses were in the kitchen, along with a new table, new chairs, and a new refrigerator.
Upstairs there was a new bed, new mattress, and new linens. The bedside tables and the bureau had been repaired.
Asleep on the bed was Mildred Memory.
“I'm gonna go home now,” Molly said.
“What can I say,” Jesse said.
“There aren't words enough to thank me.”
“I'm speechless,” Jesse said.
“Take two aspirin and call me in the morning,” Molly said, as she went downstairs.
Jesse followed.
She gathered her things and headed for the newly repaired door. She turned to find Jesse standing next to her. He hugged her.
“Arghhh,” she said. “Don't go getting all gooey on me, Jesse.”
She smiled to herself as she walked away from the house.
55
F
ollowing an uneventful night, one in which a patrol car was a constant presence at the entrance to the footbridge, Jesse made a stop at the Town Hall.
He found Carter Hansen at his desk.
“May I come in,” Jesse said.
“I have no way of stopping you,” Hansen said.
“Thank you, Carter,” Jesse said.
“No thanks are necessary,” Hansen said.
“I'm grateful nonetheless.”
“People here like you, Jesse,” Hansen said. “The outpouring of generosity is testament to that.”
“I'm speechless,” Jesse said.
“Then I'll understand when you don't say good-bye,” Hansen said.
Jesse smiled.
Rather than leave the building, however, he stopped by Alexis Richardson's office and stuck his head in.
“I heard,” Alexis said, motioning for him to come in.
“An unusual series of events,” Jesse said.
“Try not to overreact,” Alexis said.
“I had a thought, in case you're interested,” Jesse said.
“And you wish to share it?”
“Only if you're interested.”
“Okay. I'm interested.”
“Will there be any acoustic acts?”
“I'm sorry?”
“Acoustic acts? Softer music,” Jesse said.
“Why do you ask?”
“It's not polite to answer a question with another question,” Jesse said.
“I didn't realize you placed such stock in grammatical formalities.”
“We're drifting off point,” Jesse said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, there will be acoustic acts. Why?”
“If you were to schedule those acts for the end of the concert, and as a result, greatly reduce the levels of the amplification system, you might just have a viable argument for a time extension.”
“You mean if the speaker system was turned way down, we could play past eleven o'clock?”
“It's possible.”
“How?”
“Because the eleven o'clock curfew rule was put in place so that the neighborhood would be spared the discomfort of loudly amplified music.”
“And if the music was minimally amplified, we could play it beyond the curfew.”
“It would need to be closely monitored, of course. The noise levels in the adjoining neighborhoods would have to be negligible.”
“And who would do the monitoring?”
“The police department.”
“And you thought of this?”
“An epiphany.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm the police chief. I take everyone's interests into consideration.”
“Even mine?”
“Even yours.”
Alexis looked at him.
“Thank you, Jesse,” she said.
“All in a day's work,” he said.
56
S
o then what happened,” Jesse said.
“She actually said hello to me,” Lisa Barry said.
They were strolling in Paradise Park, where Jesse had brought her after picking her up at school.
“Did she say anything else?”
“She acted kind of sheepish,” Lisa said. “She walked a ways with me and tried to be friendly.”
“Julie's a complicated young woman,” Jesse said.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means that although she's a person of privilege, she still harbors a great deal of anger. She acts on instinct, without really understanding why.”
“That sounds like shrink talk.”
“It is shrink talk.”
“You place a lot of stock in analysis, don't you, Jesse?”
“If gone about correctly, it can be an invaluable tool for self-realization.”
“Which means?”
“Analysis can provide the foundation for a healthy life,” Jesse said.
“Is that why you think my speaking with Dr. Canter is so important ?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I am speaking with her.”
“And?”
“I like it.”
“Because?”
“Because we talk about things which I wouldn't talk about otherwise.”
“Which is a good thing?”
“Yes.”
“And school?”
“Everyone's still talking about how you arrested Mr. Tauber.”
“He deserved to be arrested.”
After a while Lisa said, “Mrs. Nelson came to see me.”
Jesse didn't say anything.
“She said she was sorry for what she did. She forgave me for holding her. She said I should come to her if I ever have issues.”
“How did you feel about that?”
“I felt good. She was different. She seemed genuine,” Lisa said.
“Sometimes people lose sight of right and wrong.”
“You think Mrs. Nelson lost sight of right and wrong?”
“I do. But when she realized that she had, she took steps to rectify it. She deserves credit for that,” Jesse said.
“Is that why you're not mad at her anymore?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know the difference between right and wrong, Jesse?”
“I try to know it, Lisa.”
“And sometimes you don't?”
“Nobody's perfect,” Jesse said.
They walked in silence for a while.
 
 
 
R
ollo Nurse stepped cautiously from his sanctuary in the woods. It was late afternoon, and he was restless. He was anxious to finish the job.
He could see it all in his mind. He could visualize everything the voices had instructed. He hadn't experienced such clear-headedness in ages. He felt strong. Like the old Rollo. Things were going his way.
But it was too early, he determined. Darkness was still some time away. The last thing he wanted was to be seen in daylight. His picture was everywhere. People would recognize him.
He slipped back into the glade. He would wait. He had come this far.
 
 
 
O
n his way back to the station, Jesse stopped off at Hathaway's Previously Owned Quality Vehicles. He knocked on Hasty's door, which was open.
“It's open,” he said.
Jesse went inside.
“You're too late, Officer,” Hasty said. “I'm already lawyered up.”
“Are you feeling civic-minded, Hasty,” Jesse said, as he sat down.
“I'm always feeling civic-minded,” Hasty said.
“Are you a forgiving person,” Jesse said.
“Cut the crap, Jesse. What do you want?”
“I want you to give someone a job.”
“Who? What kind of job?”
“A former mobster.”
“You want me to give a job to a former mobster? What are you, crazy?”
“You're a former mobster,” Jesse said.
“I am not. At least not technically. Assisting a mobster and actually being one are two different things,” Hasty said.
“Nitpicking,” Jesse said.
“Who is this former mobster?”
“One of John Lombardo's chop-shop mechanics.”
“A mechanic?”
“A very good mechanic.”
“Why do you want me to hire this mechanic?”
“Because I believe he's seeking legitimacy,” Jesse said.
“Why?”
“So he can feel good about his life.”
At first Hasty didn't say anything.
“That's why you want me to hire him,” he said.
“Also because, as an ex-convict, you can be a role model for him.”
“I'm not a good role model for anyone,” Hasty said.
“Don't be so sure, Hasty. You've done a very impressive job of resurrecting your life and your career.”
“My wife still won't talk to me.”
“Ex-wife, Hasty. You need to get past that. Redemption, remember?”
“I know. I know,” Hasty said. “Maybe I could use a good mechanic.”
“Will you talk to him?”
“What's his name?”
“Robert Lopresti. Can I have him call you?”
“Okay. All right.”
“Thank you, Hasty.” Jesse stood up. “And thank you for what you did on the board.”
“No thanks necessary.”
“But tendered just the same.”
57
J
esse rode around town for a while. He wrote a few parking tickets. He took a moment to catch his breath.
He was certain that the Rollo Nurse scenario was heading toward the finish line. Although he had managed to elude capture so far, Rollo had been flushed from his hideout and was essentially on the run. People were looking for him. He wouldn't go unnoticed much longer.
Jesse was certain that he was the final target. Even though there was now twenty-four-hour surveillance on his house, he wasn't taking Rollo for granted. He knew he was vulnerable.
He was satisfied that the car theft adventure was finished and had cost a dangerous criminal his life. He still remembered the look in Nancy Lytell's eyes. He took some small measure of satisfaction at having avenged her husband's killing.
Assistant DA Marty Reagan was about to indict Mr. Tauber, who would be facing some serious jail time. Jesse was certain that further investigation would reveal other incidents of abuse. He fully expected more youngsters to come forward. Men like Tauber were toxic.
He'd relished the look in Alexis Richardson's eyes when he had suggested a way out of her dilemma. He liked her. He admired her resolute manner. He wished her success.
He wrote a few more tickets, then went to the station.
 
 
 
M
olly was there to greet him.
“Can I get you some coffee,” she said.

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