Robert B. Parker’s The Devil Wins

44

Silent tears poured out of Al Franzen’s eyes as he stared at the photos. Seeing his late wife’s possessions like that had the effect of bringing Maxie back to life for him while once again forcing him to experience the pain of her death.

“Are these her things?” Jesse asked.

Franzen nodded.

“Is that a yes, Mr. Franzen?”

“Yes.”

“Please look at the photo of her wallet and the contents. Is anything missing?”

“All of her credit cards are gone,” Franzen said, choking down his tears.

“Did she carry cash with her?”

Franzen smiled sadly. “Did she carry cash with her? My God, she didn’t go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without bringing cash. She had at least five hundred dollars with her always. She said it was a scar from how she was raised. I grew up poor. I understood. I was glad to give her money. I have enough of it. Why, was there no cash in her wallet?”

“There was only some spare change in the bottom of the bag. See?” Jesse pointed at one of the photos. “But that was it. No bills.”

Franzen’s mood changed from grief to confusion. “But I don’t understand. Where did you get these things from?”

“We found them in the apartment of the cabdriver who took Maxie up to the Bluffs.”

“Why would he have them? Are you telling me he killed Maxie?”

“That’s not what I’m telling you.”

Franzen became agitated, rising up out of his seat, his face turning bright red. “Then what are you telling me, for chrissakes? Why did this man have my wife’s underwear? Did he rape her? Oh my God, he raped her and robbed her.”

Jesse put a hand on Franzen’s shoulder and gently urged him back into his seat. “Relax, Mr. Franzen. He didn’t rape her. We know she didn’t have intercourse the night she died. It might be that he came back up to the Bluffs after Maxie committed suicide and took the things she left behind. Or he took her up to the Bluffs and robbed her. We don’t know.”

“But her underthings! How did he get them?”

“We don’t know that, either.”

Franzen was out of his seat again. “Why don’t you know that? Won’t he tell you? Let me talk to that bastard. I’ll get him—”

“We don’t know the answer because the cabbie’s gone,” Jesse said.

“Gone where?”

Jesse ignored the question. “We’ll find him.”

“Can I please go now, Chief Stone? I’m not feeling very well.”

“Sure. I’ll have someone drive you back to the hotel.”

He watched Suit walk Franzen slowly to his office door. Jesse thought about how particularly unfair the end of a long life could often be. How to a man like Al Franzen it might feel like punishment. He wondered if Franzen would go to his grave asking himself what he had done to deserve it. Then, as Franzen reached the office door, he stopped. He turned back to Jesse.

“You know what I think, Chief Stone?”

“What’s that?”

“Most of the time he loses, but sometimes the devil wins.”

Jesse couldn’t disagree. He had been a cop for too long, worked too many homicides, seen too much of the pain and damage humans can inflict on one another, often over insignificant things. He had his doubts about the devil, but he had no doubt there was evil in the world. And he didn’t have to look beyond the borders of Paradise to find it. There was another thought in Jesse’s head, one he didn’t want to share yet, certainly not with Al Franzen. After Suit led the old man out of his office, Jesse called Tamara Elkin.