Robert B. Parker’s Fallout

Sixty-Three

The Paradise High baseball team had lost in the first round of the state tournament the day before, with a team meeting scheduled for today. Jesse told Suit to make another run at Coach Hal Fortin, if for no other reason than to piss him off. Molly’d said she was going to make a run at Ainsley Walsh, just not in a rousty way.

“If we’re going to jam somebody up, let’s make it the coach,” Jesse said.

“It will be both an honor, and a pleasure,” Suit said.

“Suit?” Jesse said before he left. “I promise you we’ll find out what happened to that kid.”

“You’re the one always telling me that cops should never make promises they can’t keep,” Suit said.

“Not planning to start now, Luther,” Jesse said. “No matter what we find out. Wherever the evidence takes us.”

Suit grinned. “If we ever get any evidence.”

After that Jesse walked the town for an hour or so. He did that sometimes. Wondering how many secrets there were behind all these doors, inside all these buildings, even in a small town like this. Wondering how well he really knew the people he was hired to protect. Molly he knew. Suit he knew. And Nellie. And Crow, for better or worse. He knew what Crow was capable of, all the trouble Jesse knew he still carried around inside him. But he knew where he stood with Crow. It mattered.

Charlie he had known. And he knew as much about Dix as Dix wanted him to know.

He had spent a lot of time over the last week wondering how well anybody knew Jack Carlisle, including his own uncle.

He walked to the ballfield and back, thinking that the next games to be played there would be in Paradise Men’s Softball, Jesse still having not decided if he wanted to play one more year. If he wanted to still be a shortstop.

He looked into the window at Rocky’s Ace Hardware when he was back on Main Street, and saw himself smiling.

As if you ever stopped being a shortstop.

It was nearly five o’clock by now. He walked up to More Chocolate. Closing time. People started to come through the front door. Jesse had thought about going inside, but decided to wait out here.

Hillary More came out about ten minutes later, phone to her ear, chattering away.

She put it away when she saw Jesse.

“Well,” she said, “isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”

“Is it?”

She sat down next to him on the bench. Another day when she looked like a million damn dollars. The woman who had done so much to build up the town’s economy after COVID. Saying she was going to make More Chocolate the main plaza of Paradise.

“Something tells me that to my everlasting regret, this isn’t a social visit.”

“You know the scam calls I’ve told you about with Charlie Farrell?” Jesse said.

“You thought they might somehow have been connected to Charlie’s death.”

“Well, it turns out that Emma Cleary, Charlie’s lady friend, right before Charlie died, never got off their list.”

“I’m sorry for her; those calls are particularly cruel for the elderly,” she said. “But what does any of this have to do with me?”

“One of those calls was placed from your office,” Jesse said.