Robert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets

Twenty-Six

Jesse gathered his officers the next day for an all-hands meeting in the conference room. He brought donuts.

He looked around. Gabe Weathers sat at the table next to Jimmy Alonso and Barry Stanton. Stanton and Alonso had become friends, since they came on the job at about the same time. Molly had a spot closest to the donuts. She hadn’t chosen it. Jesse had put the box by her on purpose. Her look said she’d make him pay for it. Peter Perkins was late, so there was no room for him at the conference table. He stood, leaning on the doorframe. Tate wore sweats, since he was technically off-duty today. He managed to sit apart from everyone even when he was right next to the others.

Suit was uncharacteristically late. Probably sleeping. Jesse decided to start anyway.

“We have trouble coming our way,” Jesse said.

“This about Daisy?” Jimmy asked.

“I can’t go on without her potpie, Jesse,” Barry said. “Just do whatever she tells you.”

Everyone laughed. Except Tate.

“It is not about that,” Jesse said. “Daisy has a difference of opinion with me about something. I’m sorry it’s spilled over to affect all of you, but as far as I’m concerned, it is between me and her. It is not official department business. Until it gets settled, I want you to respect Daisy’s wishes, but continue to respond to any calls to her address like you would anyone else’s.”

Jesse tried to get them back on track.

“This is about the Burton house. I’ve been told that there are people who are still interested in the evidence we managed to gather from the house. We will have bad men coming to town.”

“How reliable is this information?” Tate asked.

All the other cops at the table looked at him. It wasn’t that Jesse didn’t allow questions. It was that the others had already learned that Jesse didn’t say anything if he wasn’t sure.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s one hundred percent,” Jesse said. “There are people who want the secrets in that house to stay buried. Our job is to dig them up. That’s going to make them angry. So on patrol, I want you on point. You are the first line. You see something, you call it in immediately. If you’re worried you’re wasting my time, don’t. I want to know about it.”

“At last, a little action,” Tate said.

“No, Derek,” Jesse said. “This isn’t good news. This means people could get hurt. I want to avoid that at all costs. Your job is not to fight these guys. Your job is to watch and monitor and report back. Please do not take this the wrong way, but you are not qualified to take these guys on. These are serious people. And I do not want to go to any of your funerals. Keep your heads on a swivel, starting now. You see something, you keep your distance, you call for backup. That is an order. Understand?”

They all looked at Tate again. They couldn’t help it. He flushed red. His jaw clenched.

“Right. Understood. Sorry, Chief.”

“I keep telling you, it’s Jesse—”

Suit rushed into the conference room then.

“Jesse, you should probably come see this.”

Over the years, Jesse had learned to recognize the different degrees of worry on Suit’s face. He was a terrible poker player because he could not help broadcasting exactly what he felt. Right now, this looked like a four on a scale of one to ten — nobody was bleeding, but something bad was going down. More than anything, Suit loved to keep the peace, and his face said this was something public and messy.

Jesse followed Suit out the front door after putting on his ball cap and attaching his holster to his belt. The rest of the crew trailed after them.

He didn’t bother to ask what was happening. He’d see it soon enough.

Actually, he heard it first.

As he and Suit walked down the street toward Daisy’s, Jesse heard shouts and chants — not too loud, but shrill and angry, like a small murder of crows fighting over a discarded bag of fast food.

When they rounded the corner, he saw the source.

A mob of people screaming at each other were on opposite sides of Daisy’s front door.

“What the hell?” was all Jesse could think to say.

“They both showed up at about the same time,” Suit said, head down, as if he was apologizing. “They’re fighting over the sign.”

“Well, yeah, Suit, I got that.”

“I tried talking to them, to keep them apart.”

“How’d that go?”

“Apparently I’m both a fascist and a liberal cuck.”

“That’s a neat trick.”

“My mom always said I was versatile.”

Jesse took a deep breath and walked across the street to take a position just in front of the door.

There were, of course, two opposing groups, each lined up on either side of the entrance to Daisy’s. One was in front of the window with the sign, and seemed to be broadly in favor of it and its message. Jesse saw several people he knew, including Margaret Pye, Paradise’s head librarian, and a few of Daisy’s friends. There were also a couple of strangers who seemed to be there for the protest alone.

They were trying to get a chant going, but it’s tough to chant with barely more than a half-dozen people, Jesse noticed. “ONE TWO THREE FOUR...” they began, and then trailed off in search of a rhyme that worked for the occasion. Paradise wasn’t really a town for people who made a lot of noise, anyway. Jesse nodded to a couple he knew. They looked vaguely embarrassed, but didn’t flinch from his gaze.

On the other side of the door, crowding the sidewalk, was a group that was louder and angrier. Jesse saw only a couple of familiar faces among them. They were yelling. Well, mostly one guy was yelling. A heavy, middle-aged man in a SWAT ball cap and what looked like a bulletproof vest riding up on his gut stood at the front of the group. Jesse had never seen him before. He didn’t live in Paradise.

Jesse just stood there, still and silent.

It took them a moment, but eventually everyone noticed him, standing there with his badge and gun, waiting patiently.

The chanting and shouting stopped. They quieted down and turned to him, waiting for him to say something.

“Hi,” he said, smiling at all of them.

“Hi,” a few of the protesters on both sides said back, looking confused, as if they were expecting more yelling.

“I’m Jesse. I’m the police chief here,” he said.

“You can’t arrest all of us,” someone in the pro-sign crowd said.

“Why aren’t you arresting those dirty—” the man in the black tactical vest began.

Jesse put up his hand, and the man shut up.

“I am not here to arrest anyone,” Jesse said. “We support the right to protest here in Paradise. A couple of you seem to be new to our town, so I just wanted to let you know that despite what you may have seen on the news, you can say pretty much whatever you want. Just keep the sidewalk clear and let people get in and out of Daisy’s so they can get their coffee and breakfast, okay?”

Jesse looked at both sides. They stared back, uncertain of what to say.

“And do not threaten or try to hurt each other. I’m sure none of you need to be reminded of that, right?”

All the protesters stared at him.

“Thanks,” Jesse said. “Appreciate you listening.”

He turned to go.

“Wait, that’s it?” someone yelled.

Jesse turned. It was the middle-aged man in tactical gear. He held his sign like a club. His face was beet-red under the cap.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?” he said.

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “You should try the turnovers if you go in. They’re great.”

He turned again, but Tactical Dude was already shouting.

“You’re really not going to arrest anyone?”

“Not unless you give me a reason,” Jesse said.

“They’re the ones who hate cops,” Tactical Dude muttered.

“No, we don’t!” Margaret shouted back at him. For a librarian, she had quite a set of lungs. “We know what that guy did!” she said, pointing across the narrow street at Tate, who stood there scowling. “And, Jesse,” she said, wheeling on him, “you ought to be ashamed! Daisy is your friend! That you would let that animal work for you—”

“See! They hate you!” Tactical Dude shouted.

“Daisy has the right to keep anyone she wants out of her place!” Margaret shot back.

“Fascists!” Tactical Dude screamed.

“You’re the fascist!” a gray-haired woman on the opposite side screamed back at him. She looked like someone’s grandmother, wrapped in tie-dye.

Jesse felt a headache coming on. He stepped forward again, trying to project calm.

“You see! You see!” Tactical Dude said. “They’re violent and dangerous! They threatened me! Arrest them!” Little flecks of spit formed at the corners of the man’s mouth.

“Oh, you want to see violent?” Margaret began, taking a step forward, fists clenched.

Jesse took a step closer. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, warning Margaret to stay put.

That’s as far as he got when the front door opened and Daisy stepped out.

“Jesus Christ,” she said. “Don’t any of you have anything better to do?”

“Oh, there she is,” Tactical Dude said. “The agitator herself.”

“Hey,” Jesse said sharply. “Watch your mouth.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “ ‘Agitator’? That’s a new one.”

She turned her back on him and addressed the pro-sign crowd. “Will you all just go home? Please? I didn’t ask any of you to do this. Can you just let my customers get some goddamn breakfast without all this shouting?”

Tactical Dude shoved his way closer to Daisy.

“You should’ve thought of that” — here Tactical Dude pointed at the sign — “before you put that bullshit in your window!”

Jesse took another step closer. “Sir,” he said. “Please step back.”

“I can handle this, Jesse,” Daisy snapped.

Jesse didn’t care. He moved directly in front of Tactical Dude, blocking Daisy.

Tactical Dude did not recognize danger when it was staring him in the face. Everyone else on the sidewalk did, including Molly, Suit, and Gabe. They were all looking at Jesse. He could feel their eyes on him.

Daisy was still in the doorway, trying to hold it open so her customers could get out. Barry, Jimmy, Tate, and Suit all stood to one side. Peter stood a little farther back. They looked torn.

Jesse opened his mouth to tell Tactical Dude to step back again, to give everyone a little space. He was sure this didn’t have to get worse.

Then three things happened.

First, Tactical Dude pivoted from Jesse to face Daisy. His mouth opened and he began screaming another slur. It began with the letter c and he seemed to be aiming it at both Daisy and Margaret. Or maybe the grandmother. Or maybe everyone within earshot.

As he turned, he swung his sign around.

Daisy ducked to avoid it. The crowd pushed forward and into her. She lost her balance, stumbled into Tactical Dude.

And that’s when Tactical Dude dropped his sign and went for something underneath his jacket, stuck in his utility belt, screaming, “I FEEL THREATENED!”

Something in Jesse snapped. He threw the punch without thinking. Pure reflex. His right fist knocked the man off his feet and put him flat on his back.

Everyone on the street went silent, like someone had suddenly turned the volume way down.

Jesse was already on top of Tactical Dude, turning him over, pulling the black object from his hand.

It was a can of bear spray. Tear gas.

Not a gun.

Jesse felt the tension flood out of him. He got up off the man, who was now cuffed, face down on the sidewalk.

But at that point, Jesse became the new focus of everyone’s rage. Some of the pro-sign protesters were aghast. “Jesus Christ, Jesse,” Margaret said. “You didn’t have to kill him!”

Meanwhile, the anti-sign protesters began shouting about lawsuits and lawyers.

Tactical Dude was still struggling to stay awake. “What jush happen?” he slurred. His jaw was not quite aligned with his skull anymore. His cap had been lost somewhere along the way on his short trip to the sidewalk.

Jesse looked at Daisy, who’d regained her feet. She looked like she wanted to take a swing at him herself.

“Damn it, Jesse,” she said. “Do you think that helped?”

“I am trying to do my job,” he said, maybe a little angrier than he intended.

“Are you?” she said, and moved past him, toward the fallen man.

She kneeled down and helped Tactical Dude into the recovery position. His eyes were still unfocused and a long string of drool dripped from his mouth. “That really hurt,” he said slowly, in the voice of a toddler who’d stepped on something sharp.

“I’m sure it did,” Daisy said. “Just take it easy. We’ll get you to a doctor.” She helped him to his feet. He took her hand gratefully.

Molly and Suit and Gabe gently moved Daisy aside to take the man into custody. Daisy stepped away, still looking daggers at Jesse.

All the protesters had gone quiet, glaring at Jesse, taking videos with their phones.

Well, Jesse thought. At least I brought everyone together.

It absolutely did not help that Tate chose that moment to let out a war whoop of victory and shout, “Damn, Chief, you kicked that guy’s ass!”