Robert B. Parker’s The Devil Wins

76

When he walked into the station, he was surprised to see Molly Crane at the desk.

“What are you still doing here?”

“We’re short cops and I could use the overtime,” she said.

“That’s if I can get any overtime authorized.”

“You’ll figure something out. I have faith in you.”

“Don’t you Catholic girls believe faith is only really rewarded in the next life?”

“I can wait,” she said. “Besides, I would be climbing the walls at home, thinking about... you know.”

“Warren?”

She nodded. “About that. I think I might be able to track down his brother. I made a few calls to old friends. One thinks he might’ve moved to New York and one says at least one of Warren’s parents might be alive and down in Florida.”

“Good. Where’s Millner?”

“Not here,” Molly said.

“What do you mean he’s not here? Did a judge kick him loose?”

“He wasn’t at home. And he hasn’t been to work for two days. Hasn’t called in. He just never showed up.”

Jesse clenched. “Damn! He ran.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Let everyone know,” he said.

“Already done.”

“Healy know?” Jesse asked.

“First call was to him.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

She folded her arms and made a face. “Just one reason?”

“One or two.”

Molly said, “Al Franzen called a little while ago. He’s checking out of the hotel tonight and heading home.”

“Any news on Dragoa or his boat?”

“Still nothing.”

“I’m going to go over to the hotel.”

“I thought you might.”

Ten minutes later, Jesse was at the Whaler Lounge in the hotel with Al Franzen. Franzen ordered a frozen strawberry margarita and Jesse a Black Label neat. Franzen raised his drink to Jesse. They clinked glasses.

“To Maxie,” Jesse said.

“To my Maxie.”

When he sipped the margarita, Franzen made a sour face.

“Feh!” he said. “I hate these froufrou drinks, but my Maxie loved them. She loved drinking. She loved anything with alcohol in it.”

Jesse smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t figure you for a frozen-margarita man.”

Franzen seemed not to hear. “My Maxie... who am I kidding? She was never mine. She wasn’t the type of woman who could ever really belong to any one person. Sometimes I don’t even think she belonged to herself. I hated that about her, but I also loved her for it, too. I’m not making much sense, am I?”

“You’re making perfect sense.”

“She was such a restless woman. It’s funny, Jesse, but I can’t imagine even death could tame her.”

“I only met her once and I know exactly what you mean.”

“But now she has her girl back and the pain is over with.” He gulped the pink drink. “It is a terrible kind of pain, a grinding, gnawing pain that leaves you empty. Maxie tried to fill it up with... I’m repeating myself, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay, Al. It’s okay.”

A slender African American man in his early twenties came into the lounge and called out Al Franzen’s name. Franzen waved to him. “Over here.”

“Mr. Franzen,” he said, “your car to the airport is here. I’ll load your luggage into the trunk, if I may?”

Franzen slipped him a ten-dollar bill and told him to go ahead. When he’d gone, Franzen got off the bar stool and shook Jesse’s hand.

“Thank you, Jesse. You’ve been very good through all of this.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Maxie was something else.”

Franzen took a step, then stopped. “I hope you find out who killed Maxie’s girl and the other girl, too. But if you don’t, I’ll understand. Maxie would understand. She knew what I told you the last time we talked. Sometimes the devil wins. It has always been so, I think.”

Jesse watched Al Franzen make his way through the lobby and vanish behind the night-colored glass of the lobby doors.