64

Jesse didn’t know what to make of it, the feeling that he was being watched. He’d checked his mirrors many times on his way into town. He’d done all the tricks: made unexpected stops, pulled off the road, changed his route, doubled back, but he didn’t see anyone or anything that was out of place. In the end he attributed it to his coming to terms with Tamara’s news and to that little scene Bella Lawton had played out in his kitchen. He was still trying to make sense of that when he strode into Mayor Walker’s office.

At least Bella had heeded his suggestion about bringing Stan White and Bascom along for the meeting. None of them looked very pleased about being summoned to a meeting, and Stan White let everyone know about it.

“Damn it, Stone, what the hell kinda town is this? Yesterday you seemed pissed that Bella, Roger, and I were at the meeting. Today it’s practically a command performance. What’s with that?”

Bella Lawton hung back, almost as if trying to blend into the wainscoting. Jesse guessed she might have been a little bit embarrassed by her showing up at his house and coming on as strong as she had. Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Strangely, it was Bella who would probably be most pleased by what he was about to say, but it was Stan White’s reaction Jesse was most interested in.

“Yesterday, a package was delivered by messenger to Roscoe Niles at WBMB-FM,” Jesse said. “No one got a good look at the messenger.”

Bella Lawton was puzzled. “Roscoe Niles. Who’s he?”

“He’s a fat old drunk, a DJ whose best days were behind him by 1980,” Stan White answered. “He’s a real prick.”

Jesse shook his head. “He loves you, too. But he told me you were once friends.”

White began to speak, but the mayor interrupted.

“I’m sure this is all very fascinating... or not. Someone please tell me why we’re all here.”

Jesse removed several sheets of paper from a brown folder and handed them out. He scanned everyone for their reaction, but focused most intently on White.

Bascom grumbled, not even bothering to look at the sheet. “What’s this?”

There was stunned silence from Mayor Walker and Nita Thompson. Bella Lawton tried hard to hide her smile but couldn’t contain it. Stan White didn’t even try to contain his smile. Still, his reaction seemed far too muted for Jesse’s liking.

“Is this authentic?” Jesse asked White.

White didn’t answer, not directly. “Where is it, the original?”

“I gave it to the state police for analysis before I came here,” Jesse said. “Does this look like the original?”

“It does,” White said. “But the original is on a sheet of old brown paper.”

“What does it mean, Stan, if what was delivered to Roscoe Niles’s station is the genuine article?”

“What does it mean?” White threw up his hands. “It means that whoever had the poem also has the tape. We were told by the police never to divulge that to the public. But both things were stolen at the same time. Terry, God bless him, always kept this poem in the studio for inspiration during the recording sessions. And one day, poof, both went missing.”

Nita asked, “Jesse, why do you think the poem was sent to Roscoe Niles?”

“Because whoever has the tape is frustrated by the lack of coverage he’s received. I suppose he hoped Roscoe Niles would read the poem on the air and blow this whole thing wide open. Let’s be clear, it’s going to come out. He’s got the tape and he wants to auction it off to the highest bidder.”

Bascom didn’t like it. “The guy’s a murderer.”

“Probably,” Jesse said. “But we’d have to catch him and then we’d have to tie the murders to the tape and him to the murders. Sounds simple enough, but all we’ve got at the moment is speculation and circumstantial evidence. We’re going to have to play this thing out or we’ll lose him.”

“Chief, you can’t be serious,” Mayor Walker said.

“Deadly serious. Right now, he’s holding fifty-one of the fifty-two cards in the deck. The only card we have to play is that he seems to want to do this with a big splash of publicity to create a bidding war for the tape. If we play it tough and refuse to negotiate, he’ll take the tape off-shore and sell it to a foreign buyer who lives in a country less concerned about intellectual property rights than we are. He may get a smaller deal that way, but he’ll have his money and disappear, Stan and Terry Jester will be screwed again, and we’ll have two unresolved homicides.”

“Jesse’s right, Mayor Walker,” Stan said. “In places like China, they don’t care too much about copyrights.”

Bascom nodded in agreement.

“If we play it out,” Jesse said, “he may get cocky and overconfident. That breeds sloppiness, and, remember, at some point the tape and the money will have to change hands. That may be our one chance.”

Mayor Walker asked everyone but Jesse and Nita to leave.

“You’re taking an awfully big risk here, Jesse,” Nita said after the other three had gone. “The problem is, the biggest risk isn’t yours to take.”

Walker waved the copy of the sonnet at Jesse. “It’s my neck, pardon the expression, you’ll be putting in the noose if this goes wrong. If this man doesn’t get sloppy and gets away with it, I’ll look like a fool for letting it happen. And firing your ass won’t placate anyone but me.”

“And if we don’t play it out, we’ll have two open murder cases. What do I tell my cops and the people of Paradise about that? That your career is more important than catching the bad guy? Should I tell them justice is a political equation?” Jesse said, pulling a book off a shelf behind the mayor’s desk and placing it on her desk. “My job is to do right by the people of this town, not by your career.”

She didn’t bother looking at the book. “What’s this?”

“It’s a dictionary, Connie. Look up the words public and servant. We’re supposed to serve the citizens of Paradise, not the other way around. You want to fire me, fire me now. Or maybe I’ll resign and lay it all at your doorstep.”

Mayor Walker stepped close to Jesse. “You wouldn’t!”

“He would, Your Honor,” Nita said, stepping between them. “Don’t underestimate him.”

Jesse turned so that they couldn’t see his smile. “Let me know your decision, Connie. Until I hear otherwise, I’ll be doing my job.”

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