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6

PETER PERKINS CAME INTO Jesse's office, carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and a manila folder in the other. He put the coffee on the edge of Jesse's desk, sat down in one of the visitors' chairs, and opened the folder.

"ME's report?" Jesse said.

"Yep, on Petrov Ognowski."

"So it was his car," Jesse said.

"Yep. ID'ed him with his fingerprints. Got a big record. Shot once in the back of the head with a.22 slug, probably a Magnum load, the way it churned around inside his skull."

"Identifiable?" Jesse said.

"Nope, too beat up. ME says they could barely tell it was a.22, the way it was twisted out of shape." "Happens," Jesse said. "Got a time of death?" "Tuesday night between midnight and six." "Anything else?" "Not much. Petrov might have gone happy, though. He had sex earlier Tuesday evening." "You ever wonder how they know that?" Jesse said.

Perkins looked startled.

"You don't know?"

"Not a clue," Jesse said.

Perkins looked even more startled.

He said, "Some kind of science, I guess."

"Probably is," Jesse said. "What else do we know about Mr. Ognowski?"

"He's a soldier with a mob headed by a guy named Reggie Galen. Strong-arm mostly. Arrested six times for assault. Served some time for extortion."

"Where'd he do time," Jesse said.

"Garrison."

"See what they can tell you about him," Jesse said.

Perkins made a note in his folder.

"You know where Reggie lives?" Jesse said.

"Here."

"On the Neck," Jesse said.

"In the old Stackpole house," Perkins said, "next door to Knocko Moynihan."

"Who bought the old Winthrop house," Jesse said.

"There goes the neighborhood," Perkins said.

"Unless you're a thug," Jesse said.

"Why do you suppose they did that?" Perkins said. "Moved in next door to one another."

"My dick is bigger than yours, I suppose," Jesse said.

"They don't get along, do they?"

"I don't believe so," Jesse said.

"Well," Perkins said. "Gives us a nice passel of suspects to talk with."

"None of whom will be able to shed any light on the unfortunate crime."

"Yeah," Perkins said. "Trouble with gang murders is nobody sees anything, knows anything. All of them got lawyers."

Jesse smiled. Perkins was a good kid, but Jesse wondered just how many gang murders he'd worked on. Perkins saw the smile.

"Don't you think?" he said.

"I do," Jesse said. "He have a gun on him?"

"Ognowski? No."

"In the car?" Jesse said.

"No."

"Any kind of weapon?" Jesse said.

"No," Perkins said. "That mean something?"

"Guys in his profession," Jesse said, "usually like to be carrying something."

"So, what's it mean that he wasn't?"

"Don't know," Jesse said. "It's a little odd, so we mark it, you know?"

"Yessir," Perkins said. "You gonna talk with Reggie Galen?"

"I'll talk to Healy first, see what the staties know."

"And I'll get hold of somebody at Garrison," Perkins said.

"Good," Jesse said.

"We got a theory of the case yet?" Perkins said.

"Somebody shot Petrov and put him in his trunk," Jesse said.

"Wow," Perkins said. "It's great to work with a professional."

"I know," Jesse said. "I know."