Robert B. Parker’s The Devil Wins

17

The minute Maxie Connolly came through his office door, Jesse understood why Healy had rolled his eyes at the mention of her name. She didn’t just come through the door. She blew in like a force of nature. Watching her walk toward him, Jesse half expected to hear the blare of trumpets. It didn’t take a trained detective to get that Maxie was all about herself. But persistent narcissism catches up to the best of them. It had definitely caught up to Maxie Connolly and had started taking its toll. Time, too. The skin of her face was too tanned and taut. Her hair, too blond and brassy. Her sunglasses were too big, her full-length mink too outrageous, and her jewelry too tasteless. All the knobs on her were turned up to ten. Jesse expected to see Molly trailing behind, but Molly was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re cute,” Maxie Connolly said in her two-pack-a-day voice. She threw herself in the chair facing Jesse’s desk.

“Thank you. Where’s Officer Crane?”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Officer Crane? Who’s Officer— Oh, Molly. Jeez, little Molly Burke turned out to be some piece of ass, huh? Who woulda figured that? I mean, she was a cute girl, but I never figured she’d fill out like that. I bet you have trouble keeping your hands off that ass of hers.”

Jesse stood up and came around the desk. He held out his right hand.

“I’m Chief Stone, but I’d like it if you’d call me Jesse.”

She took his hand.

“I’d like it if you would call me yours.”

He laughed, but not at her. He’d been around grief and its many forms long enough to give Maxie Connolly a break.

“I’m too old for you,” he said. “I’d never be able to keep up.”

She bowed her head and smiled.

“Where is Molly?”

“She’s dropping Al at the hotel.”

“Al?”

“Husband number three. Traveling’s rough on him. Molly said she’d be here as soon as she got him settled in. Hey, Jesse, you got anything to drink in here?”

“I can get Officer Simpson to get you a glass of water.”

“That the big fella out by the desk?”

“That’s him,” Jesse said.

“Hunky as he is, I was hoping for something a little stronger than water.”

Jesse reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out the bottle of Jameson that someone had given him as a gift last Christmas. He didn’t prefer it. Bourbon was usually his backup after Johnnie Walker, but Healy liked it and Healy was the one he most often shared a drink with in the office. He took out a red plastic cup and poured a finger or two for Maxie Connolly. After pouring, he put the bottle away.

She raised the glass to him. “Slainte.” Maxie took it in a single gulp. “Thank you, Jesse.”

He nodded.

They sat there like that for a few seconds, in silence. Cracks were starting to show in her armor. They both knew what was coming next.

“Maxie — may I call you Maxie?”

Now it was her turn to nod.

“I’m going to ask Officer Simpson to come and sit with us.”

“Does he have to be in here?” she asked, her raspy voice quivering, her hands shaking.

“I think he does, Maxie. Usually I’d have Molly in here with us. It’s that I want someone to take notes when we’re talking. I need to pay careful attention to you, and if Officer Simpson is in here with us, I can do that more effectively.”

That wasn’t it at all. Jesse wasn’t comfortable being alone in his office with women he wasn’t acquainted with: not suspects, not women he was interviewing. These days it was just too easy for people to make accusations that were impossible to contain or disprove. He had already taken a big risk by giving Maxie a drink and he had no intention of taking any risks beyond that one.

“Can’t we wait till Molly gets back?”

“Let me check something.”

Jesse went to his door, poked his head through, and asked Suit to see where Molly was at. Just as Suit pressed the button on the mic, Molly walked into the station.