Death in Paradise

Chapter Twenty-six

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.

"You think of anything, give me a ringy dingy," Jesse said.

"You bet," Gino said. "Nice of you to stop by."

Vinnie had been looking at Jesse with nothing in his eyes since Jesse had entered.

Jesse turned and shot Vinnie with his forefinger. Vinnie had no reaction as Jesse walked back out through the draped arch.