Robert B. Parker’s Damned If You Do

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Jesse thumbed through his messages and saw that Philip Connell had phoned. He returned the call.

“Mr. Connell would like to schedule an appointment with you,” the young man who answered said. “He was wondering if he might meet with you tomorrow morning at Golden Horizons.”

“Okay.”

“May I confirm that you’ll meet with him?”

“You may. But not at Golden Horizons.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not at Golden Horizons.”

“But that’s where Mr. Connell will be.”

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“Chief Stone,” the young man said.

“Yes.”

“What may I say to Mr. Connell?”

“Why don’t you say that I won’t meet with him at Golden Horizons.”

“He might not like that.”

“I don’t really care what he might or might not like.”

The young man was silent.

“Why don’t you say I’d be willing to meet him at Paradise Harbor.”

“Paradise Harbor?”

“I’ll meet Mr. Connell in front of Rocco’s Boardwalk Pizza at eleven-thirty.”

The young man didn’t say anything.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jesse said, and hung up.

He leaned back in his chair. Then he picked up the phone and called Marty Reagan.

“What’s up,” Reagan said.

“A call from Philip Connell. He wants a meeting.”

“You’ll take it, I presume.”

“Of course.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning at eleven-thirty.”

“I’ll tell Aaron.”

“Let me know if he has anything smart to say.”

“Who, Aaron?”

“Come to think of it,” Jesse said. “This could turn out to be half interesting.”

“Be sure to let me know if it is,” Reagan said.