37.

Miriam Fiedler invited Jesse for lunch at the Paradise Yacht Club. In honor of the occasion Jesse wore a blue blazer.

“Well,” Miriam said when he joined her at a table on the veranda with a view across the harbor to the town. “You dressed up, I’m flattered.”

“The blazer covers up my gun,” Jesse said.

Miriam continued to smile brightly.

“I love this view of the town,” she said, “don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jesse said.

A young waitress came to the table. Miriam ordered a Manhattan. Jesse had iced tea.

“You don’t drink, Chief Stone?” Miriam said.

“I do,” Jesse said. “But generally not at lunch.”

“Oh, no one would even notice,” Miriam said. “All of the members have a drink at lunch.”

Jesse nodded.

“Well, I see that I have my work cut out for me,” Miriam said.

“How so?” Jesse said.

“You’re not much of a talker.”

“As soon as I know the topic,” Jesse said, “I’ll jump right in.”

“Why are you so sure there’s a topic?”

“Last week you were rooting for my death,” Jesse said. “Now lunch. There’s a topic.”

“Oh, Chief Stone,” Miriam said. “Of course there is. I don’t know why I pretended there wasn’t. May I call you Jesse. Everyone seems to.”

“You may,” Jesse said.

“Please call me Miriam.”

“Okay,” Jesse said.

“Because I’m passionate about the issue,” Miriam said. “I realize I’ve been far too strident in the matter of the Crowne estate, and I wish first to apologize.”

“Good,” Jesse said.

Miriam drank some of her Manhattan. Not like someone who needed it, Jesse noticed, merely like someone who liked it.

“And I wondered if we could find a way to join forces, as it were, to confront a problem which is now a mutual one.”

She wasn’t that bad-looking, Jesse thought. Probably fifty-something. Skin good. Slim, well-dressed, well-groomed, and her teeth were very white. She wore quite a bit of makeup and was quite artful with it. Jesse remembered how clever Jenn had been with makeup. He always paid attention to it in women.

“What would that problem be?” Jesse said.

“The murder,” Miriam said, her voice full of surprise. “Murder on the very front lawn of that lovely estate.”

Jesse waited.

“Well, surely you see the connection,” Miriam said. “Once that element penetrates a town, then inevitably the crime rate soars, and the fundamental value of a beautiful residential town simply disappears.”

“Obviously,” Jesse said, “you’re not claiming that one of those preschool kids shot Fiona Francisco.”

“No, no, of course not. But once it starts, like the tiny trickle that overwhelms the dike…it’s a tragedy,” she said.

“Why do you think Fiona Francisco was killed by a Latino person?” Jesse said.

“Well, she was there on the front lawn, and obviously she wasn’t killed by someone in Paradise.”

“But you have no actual evidence,” Jesse said.

“It’s as plain as the nose on your face,” she said.

Jesse nodded thoughtfully.

“That plain,” he said. “What do you think I should do?”

“Well, first of all, close down that school. It will send them a message,” Miriam said.

“I really have no right to close down a school,” Jesse said.

“You have an obligation to protect us,” Miriam said.

“I do,” Jesse said.

He picked up the menu.

“What’s good here,” Jesse said.

Miriam stared at him.

“I’m not through talking,” she said.

“I’m not surprised,” Jesse said.

“Well, what are you going to do about this?”

Jesse put down the menu.

“I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do,” Jesse said. “I’m not going to sit here and talk ragtime with you. You have your reasons for wanting that school closed. But we both know they have little to do with the murder of Fiona Francisco.”

“That’s insulting,” Miriam said.

“Yeah, I thought it might be,” Jesse said. “Thanks for the iced tea.”

He stood and walked through the open French doors, through the dining room, and out of the Yacht Club.


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