Robert B. Parker’s Fallout

Forty-Three

Molly told herself that if Jesse could go have dinner with Richie Burke, she could have dinner with Nellie Shofner.

“I accept,” Nellie had said when Molly called to make the offer. “Can I call you partner?”

“Only because it’s better than that Aunt Molly crap.”

“I take that back.”

“Too late,” Molly said.

They met at the Gull. Spike was once again working as his own host tonight. He didn’t have to do it. He owned the place. But Molly knew he did it because he liked it. She had never encountered anybody who enjoyed being in the restaurant business more than Spike did. He clearly never saw what he did as a job. More a performance. Like it was a role he was born to play.

When he saw Molly and Nellie come in together he said, “One of you lose a bet?”

“Girls’ night,” Molly said.

“And neither one of you called me?” Spike said, and showed them to a corner booth.

They both ordered white wine. When their drinks came Nellie asked, “What should we drink to?”

“Jesse.”

“Who brings people together, even when he’s not around.”

“Yeah,” Molly said, “he is a giver.”

They sipped wine and talked about how neither of them had much to report from Paradise High even as they kept canvassing more students and teachers. The only real news of the day had come from Jesse, because of what he’d found out about Hillary More’s son. And how it was Jesse’s firm belief that he hadn’t been there looking for a note he’d written, but what Paul Connolly, the English teacher, had described as an autobiographical play Jack had written.

“And whatever secrets it might contain,” Nellie said. “Or truths.”

“Promises to keep,” Molly said.

“Theirs,” Nellie said, “or ours?”

Molly watched as Nellie’s eyes swept across the rest of the room. Molly knew how old she was. She couldn’t escape the fact that Nellie looked younger than that. She just did. Molly wondered if it might have something to do with Molly’s own age, and how the whole world, male and female, was starting to look younger to her. Jesse often said the same thing.

Nellie’s hair was shorter than it had been a couple days ago.

A younger version of Sunny.

Hundred percent.

The waiter came over and asked if they were ready to order. Molly told him they were going to need a few minutes.

“Say the boy did kill himself,” she said, “even though Suit doesn’t want to hear that and none of us really want to believe it. You ever think that if he wanted people to know why, he would have left a note?”

“I’d still like to know that,” Nellie said.

“So would my boss.”

“You don’t?”

“It would solve the mystery, no doubt,” Molly said. “But what does that get us?”

“Closure?”

“For us,” Molly said. “The boy already has his. I’ve actually always thought the whole notion of closure, at least for the living, is a bunch of shit.”

They sat in silence. The dining room began to fill up. The bar area was already full of people and noise. The Gull had been the most popular restaurant in Paradise for as long as Molly could remember. Spike had just made it better, and even more popular than it had been before. Maybe because he was its face, and up-front star. And the food had gotten a whole hell of a lot better on his watch.

“What I can’t figure out,” Nellie said, “is why these boys on the team, even now, are so fearful of pissing off their asshat of a coach.”

“And pissing him off royally by talking to you.”

“He called me a bitch,” Nellie said, “if I’m not mistaken.”

“Were I you,” Molly said, “I’d wear that one like a merit badge.”

They both ordered lobster rolls, with fries. The plates came out of the kitchen at warp speed. Spike brought them to the table himself, and asked if they wanted more wine.

“Nellie’s parents told her to be home by eleven,” Molly said, “or she loses her car privileges.”

“I had that coming,” Nellie said.

“Where’s the chief tonight?” Spike asked.

“He is dining in Boston tonight with Mr. Richie Burke himself,” Molly said.

“Sure he is.”

“I’m serious.”

“Care to explain how such a thing came to be?”

“No,” Molly said, “I do not.”

“I thought the policeman was supposed to be my friend,” Spike said.

“Live and learn, pal,” Molly said.

They happily ate the best lobster rolls in town, maybe the entire North Shore. Every time Molly felt an urge to ask Nellie about Jesse, she stopped herself, telling herself it was none of her business. Even knowing in her heart that Jesse’s business would always be hers as well.

“The tox screen said no drugs,” Molly said. “But none of us really expected there to be.”

“So maybe somebody pushed Jack into the water,” Nellie said.

“A good-sized kid.”

“Maybe the other guy was bigger.”

“But who would do something like that? And why?”

Molly drank wine.

“Shit,” she said.

“My sentiment exactly,” Nellie said.

“A truly shitty sentiment at this point.”

“We need to catch a break here.”

Molly had the better view of the front door, so she was the one who saw Hal Fortin come walking into the Gull before Nellie did.

“Check it out,” Molly said.

Nellie smiled. “Coach Asshat himself.”

Spike showed Fortin to a window table on the other side of the crowded room.

“My friend Sunny Randall has a saying,” Molly said.

“I think I’ve heard most of them by now, sadly enough.”

Molly said, “When all else fails, annoy someone.”

“Yup,” Nellie said. “Definitely heard that one from the chief.”

“Shall we?” Molly said.

Nellie told her to lead the way.