Robert B. Parker’s Fallout

Seventy-Seven

He valet-parked his car at the Four Seasons, walked up Boylston and around the corner and then up the stairs of her building. They had still been together when she had moved into this office, the first she’d ever had. Jesse had even helped move things around, including the desk behind which she was sitting when he walked in.

As always in her presence, he felt something contract inside him, like his air passage had suddenly narrowed, or there simply wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.

She wore what he once would have called a fisherman-knit sweater, maybe a peach color. Somehow she still looked glamorous enough for a photo shoot. Boston’s hottest female private eye. But part of Sunny’s beauty, at least for him, was that she never appeared to have tried too hard to look the way she did.

Spike was on the couch.

Jesse sat down in a client chair.

“I’m happy to see you both,” he said to Sunny. “But you could have told me whatever you want to tell me on the phone.”

“True,” she said.

“Or you could have told Spike and Spike could have told me.”

She was still smiling. It did hardly anything to calm Jesse’s breathing, as relaxed as he tried to look and sound.

“Or,” Sunny said, “I could have passed Spike a note and he could have passed it to you before Chem class.”

“Always goes back to high school,” Jesse said. “Got a high school case still ongoing up in Paradise.”

“I heard,” Sunny said.

“Is this a meet-cute,” Spike said, “or reacquainted-cute? I’m confused.”

“Spike is why we’re here,” Sunny said.

“Just so you don’t get the idea that it was destiny that brought you two together,” Spike said.

Spike looked as if he’d just come from the gym. All in black, head to toe, even his Bruins cap.

“Before we get started,” Sunny said, “how’s the girl reporter?”

Now Jesse smiled. “How’s the boy reporter?”

“He’s hardly a boy,” she said.

“Nellie would likely be resistant at still being classified as a girl,” Jesse said.

“Oh, no,” Spike said. “Mom and Dad are fighting again.”

Jesse told them they needed to get to it.

“Richie told me that you had managed to get yourself sideways with Liam Roarke,” Sunny said. “Spike, being my man on the ground in Paradise, told me the same thing.”

Jesse said, “I don’t recall mentioning that to Spike.”

“You didn’t,” Spike said. “But let’s move on.”

Sunny asked Spike to tell it. He did, getting up off the couch and walking around the room, describing a phone call he’d gotten from a friend of his. Jared. Jared had gone to work for an escort service after COVID, when he lost his job as a software engineer, and was making such good money now he’d stayed with it.

You had to let Spike tell his stories his way.

“Jared’s roommate also works at the same service,” Spike said. “Exclusively male clients for him. Tayshawn Leonard is his name. Part-time model, part-time escort. Had a drink one time with him and started to feel light-headed. That kind of gorgeous.”

“Focus,” Sunny said.

“Right,” Spike said. “Anyway, Tayshawn didn’t come back from his last date a few nights ago, and Jared is worried as shit.”

“Are we talking about a date where money changed hands?” Jesse asked.

“Jared says that sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t,” Spike said. “Lately the john hasn’t been going through the service, and is dealing with Tayshawn directly. So it does feel more like a date.”

“Did Jared try to find him on his phone?”

“According to him, the phone is gone, goodbye,” Spike said. “Something else that’s worrying him.”

“Why hasn’t Jared called the police?” Jesse said.

“And tell them that he’s managed to misplace a missing male-escort-type guy?” Spike said. “You see them dropping everything to get right on that? Because I don’t.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about your friend’s missing friend,” Jesse said. “But what does this have to do with me? Or Liam Roarke?”

Spike sat back down.

“You want to tell him, or should I?” he said to Sunny.

“You’re doing so well,” she said, “though I might have tightened the presentation in the middle.”

He made a face at her.

“Tayshawn’s last date, his last several dates, were with Mr. Liam Roarke himself,” Spike said to Jesse.

No one in Sunny’s office spoke.

“Roarke is gay,” Jesse said.

“Or at least bi,” Sunny said.

“Everything’s supposed to be anonymous, as you can imagine,” Spike said. “At the service, I mean. All sorts of NDAs the boys have to sign. Lots of layers to it. But very high-end. But it was definitely Roarke. And his preference, according to Jared, is definitely for young African American men. Prettier the better. Another thing bothering Jared is that the last time they spoke, Tayshawn said that he might have messed up.”

“How?”

“Jared says it was something vague about how he’d said something he shouldn’t have,” Spike said.

He sat back down on the couch.

“Roarke makes people disappear,” Jesse said. “You know that, right? It’s practically part of his job description.”

“You think Tayshawn might have tried to squeeze more money out of him?” Sunny asked.

“Hoping not,” Spike said. “Thinking maybe.”

“Jared still could file a Missing Persons,” Jesse said.

“He won’t out him that way, like I said,” Spike said. “And by the way? Jared doesn’t think Tayshawn is just missing. Jared thinks that Roarke did make him disappear. He’s worried that Tayshawn might have said something about the two of them being together, as much as they’re together, and somehow it got back to Roarke.”

Jesse quickly caught Sunny up on as much as he could. He told her about the phone call from More Chocolate to Emma Cleary, about Roarke and More Chocolate, about Sam Waterfield and Steve Marin and what he was sure had happened to Charlie Farrell.

Spike had already told her about the fire last night. What Spike didn’t know, until now, was that Hillary More believed Roarke had been the one to set it.

“So you believe it all goes back to Roarke?” Sunny said.

“Very much so.”

“You going to nail his ass?” Spike asked.

“Very much so,” Jesse said again.

He thanked Spike and Sunny, telling them he had work to do. Lot of it. He came around the desk and leaned down close to Sunny, into the scent of her, and kissed her softly on the cheek.

When he got to the door, he turned back around.

“Take care of yourself,” he said.

“That’s my line,” Sunny said.