Robert B. Parker’s Fallout

Fifty-Four

Jesse was having dinner with Crow at the Scupper later when Liam Roarke came walking in, big as life.

The place was crowded, customers half a dozen deep at the bar, just about every table in both the front and back rooms occupied. Jesse and Crow had a round table that could have seated four in a corner of the front room. Crow was facing the door. “Force of habit,” he’d said to Jesse when he sat down.

Jesse saw something change in Crow’s eyes as he looked across the room.

Jesse turned his head and there was Roarke, his own eyes searching the front room until he saw them. He had his muscle guy with him. The guy’s suit looked as if it had shrunk even more since the Capital Grille, Jesse wondering how the button of the jacket remained in place.

“Of all the gin joints,” Jesse said.

“Pretty sure you stole that,” Crow said.

Roarke was in a three-piece suit that fit him so well it must have been made for him. A dark one. Blood-red tie. White shirt. He and his guy made their way through the bar crowd until they were standing over Jesse and Crow, Roarke’s blue eyes fixed on Jesse as if he thought he was about to make a sudden move.

“We need to talk, just the two of us,” Roarke said.

“Call my office and make an appointment,” Jesse said.

“Don’t get stupid with me again,” Roarke said. “I came all the way up here to talk to you, not him.”

Now he acknowledged Crow.

“My trusty companion stays,” Jesse said.

“I know who he is,” Roarke said.

“I’m impressed,” Jesse said. “You impressed, Crow?”

Crow didn’t respond. Just kept his eyes fixed on Roarke.

Jesse waited. So did Liam Roarke, until Jesse said, “So what’s it going to be?”

Roarke turned to the muscle guy. “Wait in the car.”

“You sure, Mr. Roarke?” the guy said. His voice was raspy. His nose had clearly been broken a few times. Jesse thought he might have been a boxer, or just somebody who’d been punched in the throat a few times. Jesse was sure it wasn’t the man who’d put Nellie on the ground the other night. Wrong body type. The man the other night was taller, leaner.

If it had been the bruiser from the other night, Jesse or Crow would have already put him on the ground.

“If I wasn’t sure,” Roarke said to him, “I wouldn’t have mentioned that I wanted you to go wait in the fucking car, Dennis.”

No hesitation now from the guy, who turned and got out of the Scupper fast enough that it was like he thought Roarke was timing him.

Roarke sat down, Jesse to his left, Crow to his right.

“Are you here to apologize for beating up women?” Jesse asked evenly. “Asking for a friend.”

Roarke’s expression didn’t change. But by now, Jesse knew it rarely did.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“My ass,” Crow said now.

They knew he’d heard. He just didn’t act as if he did. His eyes were still on Jesse. And Jesse’s on him.

“So you hang out with the Burkes and Crow,” Roarke said. “I thought your job was to enforce the law.”

“As I’ve gotten older,” Jesse said, “I’ve tried to open myself to differing points of view.”

A waiter showed up and asked if Roarke wanted to order a drink. Roarke dismissed him with wave of a big hand.

“Why are you here?” Jesse asked.

“I told you. We need to talk and I decided to have it face-to-face and I knew you were here.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“Don’t worry about how.”

“You have people watching me?” Jesse said.

“I made a couple calls and got a call, put it that way,” Roarke said. “Irrelevant.”

“Not to me it isn’t,” Jesse said.

“We’re wasting time here,” Roarke said.

“Yours maybe, not mine,” Jesse said. “And to be clear? You didn’t seem to enjoy our previous encounter all that much.”

“I don’t like surprises, especially from cops.”

“I’ll bet,” Jesse said.

Crow had a scotch in front of him, neat. Jesse could taste it. Feel it going down. Sometimes he was sure he could smell it.

“I did some looking into you,” Roarke said.

“You must have,” Jesse said. “You sent somebody to take a swing at my lady friend and do who knows what else before Crow showed up.”

“Luck,” Crow said.

“Residue of design,” Jesse said.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Roarke said.

“Old baseball expression,” Jesse said.

The air at the table was suddenly thick and heavy, the way air gets before a storm is about to hit, like water vapor condensing to form the storm’s energy.

“I had nothing to do with what happened to Miss Shofner.”

Jesse said, “But you know her name.”

“I told you, I looked into you, Stone. It’s why I came up here tonight, to tell you I don’t want trouble from you any more than you should want to make trouble for yourself with me.”

“Should I be flattered?”

Roarke closed his eyes. Kept them closed for a couple beats. When he opened them he said, “I have enough cops, local, federal, you name it, already trying to get into my business. I don’t need one more. So I’m telling you, straight up, man to man, that I have no business going on in your town. I have no knowledge about the guy in the wheelchair ending up in the water. I have no idea where Steve Marin might be.” He sighed. “And I only wish I was the king of goddamn crypto, because I could retire and no longer have to worry about small-timers like you.”

“So, wait, I shouldn’t be flattered?” Jesse said.

His head swiveled slightly, as if taking in the bar scene at the Scupper, almost like one of those scanning shots in the movies. For a moment Jesse thought Roarke might have recognized somebody up there.

Crow remained still.

“Here’s how this should go,” Roarke said to Jesse. “You stay out of my business, I stay out of yours.”

“You just told me you had no business in Paradise.”

“Going forward,” Roarke said. “It’s a good deal for both of us. You should take it.”

Jesse studied his face more closely. There was something about him. Something Jesse thought he might be missing. Something familiar? He wasn’t sure.

“What if I don’t accept the deal?” Jesse said.

Roarke finally smiled. “Do you and your trusty companion really want to find that out?”

It was like a threat he’d absently tossed on the table like a tip.

“So do we have a deal?” Roarke said.

“Sure,” Jesse said. “Should we shake on it?”

“No need.”

Roarke stood up then and turned and walked out of the Scupper.

When he was out of earshot Crow said, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

He drank some scotch and toasted Jesse with his glass. “Old Injun expression, kemo sabe,” he said.

“I might point out that you didn’t seem particularly frightened of the bad man,” Jesse said.

“Nope,” Crow said.

He held his glass up to the light now, and studied it, drank again.

“But he’s sure as shit scared of you,” Crow said to Jesse.