Robert B. Parker’s Damned If You Do

31

Jesse entered the unmarked building and approached the desk, behind which sat a strikingly handsome young man, dressed in a full-length white caftan, his yellow hair worn shoulder-length and his large brown eyes agleam with mischief. He appeared to have a mouthful of gum, which he was chewing enthusiastically. He looked up when Jesse approached.

“Hello,” he said, still chewing.

“Hi,” Jesse said.

“In what way may I help you?”

“I’d like to see Mr. Fish,” Jesse said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t.”

“Mr. Fish isn’t in.”

Jesse didn’t say anything. The young man pulled a Kleenex from the box on his desk, turned sideways, and spit his gum into it. He dropped it into a wastebasket. Then he took a tube of lip gloss from his pocket and ran it over his lips. He looked up at Jesse as if he were seeing him for the first time.

“You’re still here,” he said. “I thought I told you that Mr. Fish wasn’t in.”

“You did. And in such a convincing way, too.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Have you a name?”

“A name?”

“Yes. What is it?”

“My name.”

“Exactly.”

“Shenandoah.”

“First or last?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your name’s Shenandoah?”

“Yes.”

“Is that your first name or your last name?”

“Oh, I get it.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“First or last?”

“First.”

“Good. Shenandoah, would you be so kind as to tell Mr. Fish that I’m here.”

“I vaguely remember already telling you that he wasn’t in.”

“We both know that’s an untruth, don’t we, Shenandoah,” Jesse said.

“I don’t believe that I got your name,” Shenandoah said.

“It’s Jesse. Jesse Stone.”

“Ah,” he said. “Jesse Stone. Are you by any chance a lip reader, Jesse Stone?”

“A lip reader?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t rightly say that I am.”

“Well, read my lips anyway,” he said. “Mr. Fish isn’t in.”

“May I tell you something, Shenandoah?”

“Like what?”

“Something just between the two of us.”

Shenandoah nodded.

“Either you reach over and press that little button on the phone there and inform Mr. Fish that I’m here, or I’m going to cite you for obstructing a police officer in the performance of his duty and clap you in irons.”

Shenandoah stared at Jesse.

“Why didn’t you say so,” he said.

Jesse pointed to the phone. Shenandoah picked it up and pressed the intercom button. He announced to whoever answered that Jesse Stone was here to see Mr. Fish. After several seconds, the buzzer on the door that led to Mr. Fish’s office was activated.

“That was great fun, Shenandoah,” Jesse said, winking at him. Then he pushed open the door and went inside.

He crossed to the desk where Gino sat engrossed in The Boston Globe. His familiar bellow erupted.

“Jesse Stone,” he said, lowering the paper.

“Hello, Gino.”

Leaning against the wall behind Gino’s desk was Vinnie Morris, listening to his iPod. Jesse looked at him and signaled his greetings. Vinnie nodded in return.

“Another unexpected visit,” Gino said.

“Couldn’t be helped,” Jesse said.

Gino motioned for Jesse to sit.

“Coffee,” Gino said. “Or if you’d rather, scotch.”

“I’m good,” Jesse said. “Thanks just the same.”

“How may I be of service this time?”

“I’m grateful for the help you provided in arranging for me to meet Clarice Edgerson. And Mr. Walker.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“I need to see them again. Or, rather, I need to see Mr. Walker again.”

“Ah,” Gino said. “I’m sorry to say that I can be of no further assistance regarding Ms. Edgerson or Mr. Walker.”

“Because?”

“Let’s just leave it at that, shall we, Jesse Stone,” Gino said.

“This is about a murdered girl.”

“I’m well aware of what it’s about.”

“And you won’t help?”

“I believe I’ve made myself clear.”

“The state police believe that a territorial struggle between Thomas Walker and Fat Boy Nelly is about to erupt.”

“I’ve heard that rumor,” Gino said.

“My gut tells me that the dead girl is at the root of it.”

“Allow me to recommend milk of magnesia for your gut issues,” Gino said as he stood. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Jesse Stone.”

Gino nodded to Vinnie Morris. Vinnie turned off the iPod and escorted Jesse out of the office. He walked Jesse to his car.

“Beacon Hill,” Vinnie said.

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“Number seventeen. The Edgerson residence.”

Jesse nodded.

“Thanks, Vinnie,” he said.

“De nada,” Vinnie said.

He started to head for the building, then stopped and turned back.

“Jesse,” Vinnie said. “This shit is about to get ugly. I’d keep that in mind if I were you.”

Jesse nodded. The two men smiled briefly.

Then Vinnie went back inside.