Fool Me Twice

45

Jesse arrived at the station a little before six. He dropped his things on his desk, poured himself a mug of black coffee, and headed for the squad room.

The entire police force was there. Jesse took his seat at the head of the table.

“Good morning,” he said. “Sorry to drag you in here so early. As you already know, this one’s a bitch. One dead. One seriously wounded. Killer or killers still at large.”

He looked at Suitcase.

“What’s new from your end, Suit,” he said.

“Movie’s temporarily shut down. I spoke with Buddy Keller, the lead producer. He says they’re waiting on a meeting between the studio production wonks and the insurance adjusters.”

“When will he know?”

“Know what?”

“Whether or not the movie will resume production.”

“He said probably today.”

Jesse nodded.

He turned to Rich Bauer.

“Any luck with the photo?”

“A few people recognized Ryan Rooney,” Bauer said. “But no one had seen him. I left copies of the picture at all of the motels and hotels.”

“We need to expand the search so that it encompasses every rental unit in Paradise. Even those that aren’t listed. If there’s a room for rent, canvass it. I don’t care where or what it is.”

“I’m on it, Skipper.”

“I also want you to hit every restaurant, bar, fast-food joint, supermarket, mini-mall, and big box store. By the time you’re through, I want everyone in Paradise to be on the lookout for Mr. Ryan Rooney. Divvy it up. I want as many bodies on this as possible.

“Pete, I want you and Arthur to scour the Fisherman’s Road neighborhood. A lot of the cottages are boarded up. Investigate them all. See if there have been any break-ins.

“We’re looking for an armed and dangerous killer, people. If you should find this person, make every possible effort to apprehend him. But if that’s not possible, if you’re met with resistance of any kind, do everything in your power to protect yourself. Including shooting the son of a bitch, if it’s necessary. Am I clear?”

Jesse looked around the table and made eye contact with his officers, all of whom nodded their assent.

“Captain Healy thinks we might be usurped by the FBI. Regardless of whether or not that happens, I want you to undertake as thorough an investigation as is humanly possible.”

Jesse stood.

“Give Molly a list of who’s in what vehicle. And I want each vehicle to check in with her every half hour. Good luck.”

As the officers pushed back their chairs, Jesse motioned to Suitcase.

“Suit,” he said. “Come see me when you have a moment. You, too, Dave.”

He went back to his office.

He phoned Paradise General and got through to Dr. Lafferty.

“I’ve got nothing new to report, Jesse.”

“No improvement?”

“No. She’s still unconscious.”

“Is that a good sign or a bad sign?”

“I wouldn’t take it as any kind of sign. She experienced significant trauma. As I told you last night, she’s stabilized, which is a good thing. But she’s still not out of the woods. We’re doing everything we can.”

“You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do?”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Jim,” Jesse said, and put down the phone.

He looked up and saw Molly standing in his doorway. “‘Anything,’” she said.

“No.”

“Try not to obsess. It’s gonna turn out okay. I know it.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.”

—

Suitcase stuck his head into Jesse’s office.

“You wanted to see me,” he said.

“I did.”

“What’s up?”

“Special assignment.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the assignment?”

“I want you to make three arrests.”

“Arrests?”

“Correct,” Jesse said.

“You want me to arrest three people?”

“William J. Goodwin. Oscar LaBrea. Ida Fearnley.”

“From the Department of Water and Power?”

“Exactly.”

“On what charges?”

“Extortion. Grand theft. Threatening the life of a police officer.”

“Wow,” Suitcase said.

“Indeed,” Jesse said.

“When do you want these arrests made?”

“This morning.”

“Wow,” Suitcase said.

“You’ll need backup.”

“Okay.”

“Bring Steve Dickler and Bobby Harmon.”

“Okay.”

“Read them their rights and place them in separate cells in the tombs.”

Suitcase didn’t say anything.

“One more thing,” Jesse said.

“What’s that?”

“Oscar LaBrea may have suffered a recent facial accident. Take him down anyway. Cuffs and shackles. And add assault with a deadly weapon to his charges.”

Both men were silent for a while.

“May I ask you a question, Jesse?”

“Shoot.”

“What in the fuck happened?”

“Nothing good.”

“What did they do?”

“Everything as charged.”

“To you?”

“To me.”

“Yikes.”

“Exactly.”

Suitcase stood up.

“Oscar LaBrea threatened you with a weapon?”

“He did.”

“And you didn’t kill him?”

“Astonishing, isn’t it?”

“Is that why he suffered this so-called accident?”

“Possibly.”

Suitcase stared at him for several moments.

“What did you do to him?”

“Let’s just say his nose got out of joint.”

Suitcase looked at him, then he turned and headed for the door.

“Suit,” Jesse said.

Suitcase looked back at him.

“Let me know when it’s done.”

—

No sooner had Suitcase gone than Dave Muntz appeared.

“What’s up,” he said.

“Research,” Jesse said.

“What kind of research?”

“I want you to scour the Internet. Check Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Craigslist. Everything. I know it’s a long shot, but anything’s possible.”

“You want me to look for information regarding Ryan Rooney?”

“I want you to hunt for the anomaly. Anything that seems out of the ordinary. It’s probably a wild-goose chase, but I don’t think we should overlook anything.”

Muntz nodded. He headed for the door. Then he turned back.

“I’m impressed,” he said.

“Because I know about the Internet?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m a barrelful of surprises,” Jesse said. “You can’t afford to ignore this stuff. Everyone seems to be tuned in. Maybe the killer was, too.”

“Worth a try, I suppose.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”