Robert B. Parker’s Fallout

Fifty

Jesse had called Crow the night before to find out as much as he could about Liam Roarke, his version of getting a second opinion after getting one from Richie Burke. Crow said he had found out as much as he could.

“And after I did,” he said, “I decided that the best thing was to come straight up here.”

He grinned.

“You’re welcome.”

They were in Jesse’s living room. Jesse and Crow had driven Nellie to the hospital in Marshport to have her jaw x-rayed. It turned out there were no broken bones. Now they were back, one side of Nellie’s face both bruised and swollen. She was holding an icepack to it, seated in the easy chair under Jesse’s Ozzie Smith poster.

“Guy could pick it,” Crow said, nodding at the poster.

“None better,” Jesse said.

Crow sat next to Molly on the couch. Jesse had known enough to call her on their way back from Marshport. If he didn’t call, he knew he was only opening himself up to heartbreak in the morning.

Especially with Crow back in town.

“Jesse told me about this Roarke guy at dinner,” Nellie said. “That was right before the afterparty.”

Jesse had offered to make coffee. Nobody wanted any, especially not Nellie, who said she didn’t know if she was going to get much sleep tonight, even with the pain pill she’d taken, but she was going to give it her very best shot.

“Wish we could have met under better circumstances,” Nellie said to Crow.

“Now you got a story to last a lifetime,” he said. “Look at it that way.”

He wore a black Western shirt with gleaming pearl buttons. Black jeans. Black cowboy boots. Jesse knew it was an expensive brand of boot, he just couldn’t remember which brand. Lucchese maybe? Even if it was a nice brand, Crow could afford it. He had a lot of money, almost all of which he’d once stolen from rich people in Paradise, Mass. Crow now said that was all from another lifetime. Every time he did, Jesse would remind him that it didn’t work that way.

“After you called me the other night,” Crow said, “I talked to a guy I knew who knows about where the bodies are buried, and who did the burying. Turns out this guy had come up with Roarke before Roarke pulled off his hostile takeover on Jackie DeMarco. Says that even though Roarke comes across like some kind of gentleman pirate, he’s as badass as anybody my guy has ever come across. Crazy as Whitey Bulger. Just dresses better. And is taller.”

“With all that,” Jesse said, “Richie told me his father doesn’t see Roarke as an imminent threat to his interests.”

Crow shook his head. “If Desmond Burke believes that Liam Roarke isn’t a threat to him,” he said, “then his brain has turned to oatmeal. Roarke is a threat to everybody. Maybe even himself.

“By the way?” Crow said to Molly. “Nice for us to be working together again.”

“Nice for whom?” Molly said.

At least she smiled when she said it, as a way of taking the edge off. The last time they’d all worked together, things had at least been civilized between Molly and Crow after a rough beginning. Jesse was hoping things were still good.

He’d have to wait to find out just how good.

If he actually wanted to find out.

“Either way,” Crow said to Jesse, “here I am. When I was driving up from the Cape, I decided to surprise you. Glad I did.”

“You, Wilson Cromartie, at Cape Cod?” Molly asked.

“Fishing,” Crow said. “I brought my boat up from Florida last month. Striped bass come up in April.”

Nellie spoke up then, from across the room.

“Would it be all right if we talked about what just happened to me, for fuck’s sake?” she said, pointing her icepack at the rest of them.

Crow explained that it was pure luck that he’d just parked his rental car when he saw the van pull up and the guy jump out. Crow had no idea what the guy planned to do with Nellie. He didn’t wait to find out, just fired a shot in the air, ran in their direction, gun pointed at the guy who’d hit Nellie, right before the mystery guy dove into the back and the driver took off before the sliding door was closed.

“This wasn’t about taking Nellie,” Jesse said. “This was about sending a message to me. In front of my home. Like they put up a goddamn billboard.”

“You think these were Roarke’s goons?” Molly asked.

“Put it this way,” Jesse said. “I don’t think they weren’t. I go see Roarke, get under his skin.”

“A gift you seem to have,” Molly said.

“Now this happens,” Jesse continued. “Anybody got a better theory?”

Molly grinned and shook her head and turned to Nellie.

Molly said to Nellie, “The chief’s theories on the fallacy of coincidence are well established.”

“Tell me about it,” Nellie said.

“Somehow Roarke did some intel on me in a pretty short amount of time,” Jesse said. “He was either watching you, Nellie, or watching me. Doesn’t really matter. These guys were here and ready to move on you when you came out alone. If I’d walked you to your car, they probably would have followed you home. But I think they liked doing it here once I didn’t walk you to your car.”

“If they did want to send a message, what was it?” Nellie said.

“How easy it was for them to get to you,” Jesse said. “And me.”