Robert B. Parker’s The Devil Wins

28

Rod Wiethop lived in a crappy two-room apartment above a deli in the Swap. He wasn’t happy about being woken up by the pounding at his door and he was even less thrilled when he pulled back the door to see who had been doing the pounding. He sneered at the badge on Jesse Stone’s jacket.

“Yeah, what?” he asked, a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“I’m Jesse Stone, chief of the Paradise PD. Can I come in, Mr. Wiethop?” Jesse pronounced the th in Wiethop’s name like the th in Thursday.

“It’s Wiethop, like Wee-top,” he said, his voice all gravelly from smoke and sleep. “And no, you can’t come in. What’s this about?”

Jesse didn’t react, not immediately.

“You drive the six-to-six shift for Paradise Taxi?” he asked.

“What of it?”

Jesse gave Wiethop the cold stare and asked, “Is that yes or no in asshole-speak?”

Wiethop shook his head. “Jeez, cops. It’s too early for this crap. Come on in.”

Jesse stepped into what passed for the living room. It had all the charm of a holding cell. Jesse guessed Wiethop had probably spent a fair amount of time in holding cells.

“What can I do you for, Chief?”

“You had a fare last night. A blond woman wearing—”

“A fake fur coat. Yeah, I’m not likely to forget her. She was a pretty hot piece of skirt for an old working girl. Something to drink, Chief?” Wiethop asked, holding up a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka.

“No, thanks. Little early in the day for vodka.”

“You mind if I do? It’s the only thing I can drink.”

Jesse said, “Knock yourself out.”

Wiethop filled a dirty coffee mug and took a gulp, blowing cigarette smoke out his nose as he did.

“About this woman you’re not likely to forget.”

“What about her?”

“Where’d you pick her up and where’d you drop her off?”

“Easy.” He took another gulp followed by a deep drag on the cigarette. “Paradise Plaza at about eleven-thirty and dropped her at the Gray Gull maybe five minutes later.”

Jesse was already shaking his head before Wiethop was halfway done with his answer.

“Try again.”

“Check my trip sheet if you don’t believe me,” Wiethop said, lighting another cigarette with the one he was still smoking. Jesse had already rattled him.

“Did that. Checked your trip sheet. Been to the Gray Gull. You’re full of it.”

Jesse could see the wheels turning in the cabbie’s head. Wiethop poured himself some more vodka, took all of it at once, and winced.

“Okay, all right.” He crushed the second cigarette out without even taking a hit. “The old babe gave me fifty bucks on the arm if I said I took her to the Gull.”

“That’s a start. Where’d you really take her?”

“The Bluffs, over by the old Salter place. I told her she could wait in the car until her trick showed up. She didn’t like that too well. Threw the fifty and a ten at me and told me to shove it.”

“You thought she was a hooker?”

“C’mon, Chief. Made sense, right? Getting picked up at a hotel and then asking to get driven up to some deserted place on the Bluffs. Shit, you knew she was gonna get in somebody’s car after that. She’s wearing that big fake fur and she was all made up and smelled like a million bucks’ worth of perfume, too.”

“That was no fake fur, Wiethop, and she was no hooker.”

“You’re kidding me.” He shrugged. “I didn’t figure that. But I’m telling you she was meeting somebody. I’d stake my ass on it. She could hardly sit still in her seat. I thought she was going to make a big score.”

“You’re sure you left her by the Salter place and not further up the Bluffs?”

Wiethop held his hands out at Jesse. “Why would I lie to you about something as stupid as that?”

“All right. Thanks.” Jesse turned to go.

“Listen, Chief, you ain’t gonna tell my boss about—”

“About the extra fifty and lying on your trip sheet? Not unless I find out you were lying to me. I find that out and it won’t be your boss you’ll have to worry about answering to.”

“I wasn’t lying to you. I swear.”

Jesse wasn’t sure he believed him.