Robert B. Parker’s Fallout

Four

They found Jack Carlisle’s body in the rocks and shallow water below Bluff Lookout, the most northern piece of oceanfront property in Paradise. It was a mile up the coast, maybe a little less, from The Throw, the oceanfront property that had gotten five people killed last year, Jesse nearly making it six before an old acquaintance named Wilson Cromartie, known as Crow, had saved him.

A guy jogging with his dog had found the kid’s body. Had his phone with him, called 911. Suit had gotten there first, then Molly. When Jesse arrived, Molly told him that Suit was operating in a functioning state of shock, adding that she had told him it would be better for everybody for him to go home now, before he fell apart in front of everybody.

“How’d that go?” Jesse said.

“He didn’t,” Molly said. “Go, I mean.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s not,” Molly said.

Jesse looked over. “He seems to be holding it together.”

“For now,” Molly said.

Jesse had a total of twelve people in his department. He counted ten down on the narrow beach now, and in the water. One kid, one with potential named Jimmy Alonso, was back at the office. Another new guy, Barry Stanton, was out on patrol. Jesse knew why the rest of them were here. This was a death in the family, not just Luther (Suitcase) Simpson’s.

“The kids had a party last night up on the campground,” Molly said.

She pointed up at the Bluff. Highest point in Paradise. Jesse’s eyes took him from up there to down here.

Dev Chadha, the medical examiner, was up the beach as the bag with Jack Carlisle’s body inside it was being lifted into the off-road ambulance they sometimes used, one able to make it down the dirt path from the Bluff to the narrow beach. Jesse walked up there now. Suit tried to reach down and help the EMTs. Jesse gently put a hand on Suit’s arm.

“Let them,” he said to Suit.

“I need to help,” Suit said.

“Let him go,” Jesse said, and got between him and the ambulance as the doors closed. Suitcase Simpson. A nickname from an old-time ballplayer. Watching them load the body bag with his ballplaying nephew in it.

“He looked like he was asleep,” Suit said, his voice hoarse.

Jesse nodded.

“Dev said there was bruising, other than what the fall did, that made it look like he’d been punched in the face,” Suit said. “Maybe more than once.”

“If he was,” Jesse said, “we’ll find out who did it.”

They both watched the ambulance slowly grind its way up the dirt road.

“Somebody had to have done this to him,” Suit said.

“Maybe it was an accident,” Jesse said. “Maybe he stumbled and fell somehow.”

“He said he didn’t drink,” Suit said.

“I used to say the same thing when I was his age,” Jesse said. “And so did you.”

Now Suit was the one staring up at the Bluff.

“Does your sister know?” Jesse asked.

Suit said, “I called her. Soon as I got here and saw it was him.”

“Where’s her husband these days?” Jesse said.

“Who gives a shit?” Suit said.

“You need to go be with her,” Jesse said.

“I wanted to help,” Suit said.

“I know,” Jesse said.

“I’m on my way to her now,” Suit said.

“You want Molly to go with you?” Jesse said.

“I’m a grown-ass man, Jesse,” Suit said.

Jesse put a hand on his shoulder.

“No one in this world knows that better than me,” he said.

Suit took in some ocean air, let it out slowly. Jesse watched as he gathered himself now, imagining him like a boxer getting to one knee after having just gotten tagged and knocked down. Then Suit began walking toward the dirt road. Doing the only thing you could. One foot in front of another.

Jesse and Molly began to follow him as Jesse felt his phone buzzing in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I’m sorry about Suit’s nephew,” she said.

She already knew. Of course she did. She was Nellie.

Before Jesse could respond she added, “There was a fight at the party.”

Jesse stopped to let Molly go ahead.

“Why are you giving that up?” he said.

“Because it’s Suit’s nephew,” she said.