Chapter Forty-six

"Maybe it was his niece," Kelly said.

Jesse rang the bell.

"We can ask him," Jesse said.

Over the intercom a voice said, "This is Pollinger."

"This is Brian Kelly. I'm with the Boston Police Department."

"Police?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll come down," Pollinger said.

The intercom fell silent. Jesse took his badge out and put it on his belt so it would show. In about a minute a man opened the door as far as the chain bolt would allow.

"There are two of you," the man said.

Kelly showed his badge.

"Yes sir. I'm Kelly, this is Jesse Stone."

The man looked hard at Kelly's badge.

"Could you hold it a bit closer to the door?" the man said. Kelly held it right up to the small opening. The man took a long time examining it.

"Will you need to come in?" he said.

"You T. P. Pollinger?" Kelly said.

"Yes."

"It would be better if we came in," Kelly said.

"Excuse me, I have to close the door to take the chain off."

"Sure," Kelly said.

The door closed. The chain slid back, and the door opened.

"I'm Trip Pollinger," the man said. "What is this about?"

He was slender and white-haired. His face was young and evenly tanned. He wore a dark brown silk tweed jacket over a light tan silk tee shirt, tan linen trousers and coffee-colored loafers and no socks. On a Tuesday morning? Jesse thought. At home? I normally sit around the house in sweatpants.

"Perhaps we shouldn't talk in the hall," Kelly said.

"Oh, excuse me. Where are my manners," Pollinger said. "Please come this way."

The room was long and narrow and brightened by a floor-to-ceiling window at the far end. There were two skylights in the ceiling. It was furnished with the kind of angular modern furniture that Jesse had seen in showroom windows, but never in a home. A Picasso hung over the sofa. It showed a man/bull having his way with a woman. Jesse assumed it was a reproduction copy. Pollinger didn't look that affluent.

"Would you like coffee?" Pollinger said. "Something to drink? A Coke? Perrier? I assume I can't offer you anything hard while you're on duty."

Kelly said, "No thank you," and nodded at Jesse.

"Mr. Pollinger," Jesse said. "Yesterday afternoon I followed a very young woman to your apartment and waited outside for an hour and twenty minutes until she came out. She then walked over to Copley Square and caught a cab and I lost her."

"A young woman?"

"A girl," Jesse said. "Maybe fifteen."

"You followed her?"

"Yes, sir. She rang your bell, and went in, and stayed for eighty minutes."

"I don't know anything about it," Pollinger said.

"I want to find that girl," Jesse said.

"There wasn't any girl," Pollinger said.

"She was sent by Alan Garner."

"Did he tell you that?"

"I'm not after you, Mr. Pollinger, I'm after the girl."

"I don't know anything about a girl," Pollinger said.

Jesse sighed. He looked at Kelly. Kelly shrugged.

"Easy or hard," Kelly said. "Doesn't matter to me."

"What do you mean?" Pollinger said.

He looked at Jesse.

"What does he mean by that?"

Jesse didn't answer for a time, letting the question hang in the quiet.

"Here's what I think," Jesse said finally. "I think that the girl, who is almost certainly underage, came here to have sex with you. I assume for money."

"Could be charm," Kelly said. "He's very charming."

"I don't think he's charming," Jesse said.

Kelly shrugged. "No accounting for taste," he said.

"And," Jesse said to Pollinger, "I bet it's not the first time. And I bet if we start asking all your neighbors, and everybody where you work, if you are having paid sex with underage girls, sooner or later I bet we'll prove it."

"No," Pollinger said.

Kelly pulled a straight-backed chrome chair from the dining table and pushed it toward Pollinger.

"You wanna sit down?" he said.

Pollinger sat.

"I don't want you asking around about me. I haven't done anything wrong."

"So tell us about the girl?" Jesse said.

"Maybe I should have a lawyer," Pollinger said.

"If you think you need one," Jesse said.

"No… I… if I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

"Sure," Jesse said.

"I'm a financial manager," Pollinger said. "I have fiscal responsibility. I can't…"

"Mum's the word," Kelly said.

"Her name's Dawn," Pollinger said. "I don't think she's underage."

"And I know you would care," Jesse said. "What's her last name?"

"I don't know. But I have a phone number."

"Garner's?"

"No."

Pollinger stood and went to a sideboard and took a piece of notepaper from a drawer. He handed it to Jesse. There was a phone number written on it in black ink. The hand was childish. The zero had a smiley face.

"I don't think she was supposed to give it to me," Pollinger said. "She made me promise not to tell Alan."

"Cut out the middle man," Kelly said. "Enterprising girl."

"You get other girls from Alan?" Jesse said.

Pollinger nodded. He was looking hard at the texture of his subtle gray wall-to-wall carpeting.

"They all teenyboppers?" Kelly said.

"They are young women," Pollinger said.

"I'll bet," Kelly said.

"Ever spend time in Paradise?" Jesse said.

"I've been up there. They have a nice restaurant on the town wharf."

Jesse nodded.

"Ever know a girl named Billie Bishop?" he said.

"There was a girl named Billie," Pollinger said. "Nice girl. They're not really whores."

"Of course they're not," Kelly said. "Except that they fuck for money."

Pollinger didn't look up from the carpet.

"Where were you, the beginning of July?"

"July?"

"Yeah. First week, after the Fourth?"

"I was in London. We went on a theater tour."

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes. It was a package, Worldwide Theater Tours. They would have a record."

"We'll check," Kelly said.

"Why? Why does it matter?"

"Just routine inquiry," Jesse said. "You know any of Billie's other clients?"

"No."

"She never mentioned any, even in passing?"

"No. She was, we were, ah, very businesslike."

"Wham bam, thank you ma'am," Kelly said.

"No. It wasn't like that. They are very nice girls. It's just that we only talked about… each other."

"You romantic fool," Kelly said.

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