Robert B. Parker’s The Devil Wins

30

Suit had gotten back to Jesse even before he had finished going through the surveillance footage. The incoming call to Maxie’s room had come from one of the four remaining pay phones in Paradise. At that time of night, there wouldn’t have been any open businesses, nor much street traffic in the vicinity of the phone. The incoming call was a dead end. The other thing Suit had to say was even less encouraging. Word about Maxie Connolly’s “suicide” was out and the phones were ringing off the hook.

“What should I tell them, Jesse?”

“Confirm the death. Tell them that pending the ME’s report we have no comment and that we don’t speculate. As soon as we have the ME’s findings, we will release a statement to the press.”

“Will do, Jesse.”

After the call, Jesse rode the elevator up to Al Franzen’s room. During his conversation with Suit, it had occurred to him that Maxie Connolly must’ve had a cell phone. Yet the call had come to her room and she had used the room phone to call Paradise Taxi. Was it significant? He didn’t know. Might be, might not. He was also curious about her handbag. Like her coat, Maxie’s bag had been expensive but too much. He noticed it the second she blew into his office. It was by some Italian designer. Jesse knew that because it was fairly covered in the designer’s name. The thing was huge and had all sorts of gold studs and diamond accents on it. But it hadn’t been found on the beach below the Bluffs or at the place where Maxie had gone over. His best guess was that when he found the cell phone, he’d also find the bag. And it was a good bet he’d find them both in the hotel room.

He knocked at Al Franzen’s door. When there was no response, Jesse worried that things were going to go from terrible to worse. That he was going to have to call Connor Cavanaugh upstairs and use his passkey to get in. That they would find Al Franzen dead, a victim of his own frail health or with the aid of an outside party. But Jesse relaxed when he heard stirring from inside the room.

“Coming,” he said. “Coming.”

Franzen’s already sad face fell to the floor at the sight of Jesse Stone. He couldn’t imagine that the police chief at his door meant anything good. He gestured for Jesse to come in.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Franzen.”

The old man seemed not to hear. “I’ve made arrangements for Maxie and Ginny’s burial for when they release Maxie’s body. I think they should both stay here, together.”

Jesse said, “I can make sure the ME holds on to Ginny’s remains until she releases Maxie to you. Please let me know when the service happens. I’d like to be there.”

Franzen nodded his appreciation.

“You know, Chief, people thought Maxie didn’t care about Ginny, but she did. She told me what people here thought of her. Sometimes I would catch her holding her girl’s picture and crying. Old men know grief. I have buried a wife and a daughter myself. Now two wives.”

“Sorry.”

“We all grieve in different ways. Maxie, I think, has been grieving her whole life, even before Ginny. I don’t claim to understand it. I don’t know what the pain was in her life before what happened to Ginny. Maxie would never talk about it. But there was a hurt there. Deep-as-a-mountain-is-high kind of hurt. And Maxie would go from man to man to ease the pain. I knew she did, maybe even the day after we were married, but it wasn’t about cheating. It was about escaping.”

“You’re a wise man, Mr. Franzen.”

“I’m an old man. Sometimes those are the same things. What can I do for you?”

“We didn’t find Maxie’s handbag with her,” Jesse said. “Is it here, do you know?”

“That silly thing,” Franzen said, shaking his head. A sad smile on his face. “So big and showy. If Maxie could have gotten neon on it, she would have. That was my Maxie. But no, Chief, it’s not here. I looked.”

“Did she have a cell phone?”

“Sure. She kept it in that bag of hers. Why, you didn’t find that, either?”

“You should have been a cop.”

Franzen shook his head. “No money in it.”

Jesse laughed.

“Can you give me her cell number?”

Al Franzen recited the number, which Jesse entered directly into his cell.

“Did Maxie ever talk about the people she knew in town? Did she mention old friends?”

“You mean old boyfriends?” Franzen asked.

“I mean anyone.”

“Not really. She used to talk only about how people here didn’t like her very much, but she never talked about anyone in particular, though...”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just my old mind playing tricks on me or my mistaking it for her missing Ginny,” Franzen said.

“It might help.”

“I got the sense that there was always somebody here for her. You know, like the one true love that got away.”

“But she never said anything or mentioned a name?” Jesse asked. He had thought about mentioning Dragoa’s name, but decided against it. Once a name got out there, he wouldn’t be able to take it back. And if there was a name even an old man might remember, Dragoa was one that would stick.

Franzen didn’t hesitate. “No, I’m sorry. Like I said, it was just a sense that I got. When Paradise would come up occasionally, Maxie would get a faraway look in her eyes. I’m not so old or feeble that I don’t remember what that kind of look means.”

Jesse shook Al Franzen’s hand and left. Again, with more questions than answers.