Stranger in Paradise

51.

“Another guy from Miami,” Suit said.

He handed Mongo’s driver’s license to Jesse.

“Carrying a forty-caliber semiautomatic,” Suit said. “Full magazine. Got a room key, too. Marshport Lodge.”

“Molly,” Jesse said. “Get the Marshport cops. Give them the room-key info, see what they can find.”

“Armed and dangerous?” Molly said.

“You might mention that,” Jesse said.

Molly went to one of the cruisers.

“Witnesses?” Jesse said to Suit.

“Lot of them,” Suit said. “Nobody knows what happened. Three guys came in, sat down, ordered lunch. They’re eating lunch, there’s a shot. Nobody knows from where. Nobody saw the shooter. The other two guys hit the floor, they have guns. After a minute they get up and run from the restaurant.”

“Car?” Jesse said.

“Nobody dared look,” Suit said.

Jesse stood looking down at Mongo’s body sprawled across the table.

“Shot had to come from the wharf,” Jesse said. “No place else a guy could stand and hit him in the back of the head.”

“Unless it was another long rifle shot,” Suit said.

“Most people on a long shot don’t aim for the head,” Jesse said.

“Unless it was a lousy shot that worked out,” Suit said.

“ME will tell us what kind of bullet,” Jesse said. “Meanwhile, I’m sticking with the wharf.”

Suit nodded. Jesse went out the restaurant and across the little gangway to the wharf and walked over so he was standing where he figured the shooter had stood. Suit walked with him.

“You think it was Crow?” Suit said.

“Yes.”

“Can we prove it?”

“Not yet,” Jesse said.

Suit was silent. They both looked at the corpse on the deck. It was an easy shot.

“You told me Crow could really shoot,” Suit said.

“He’s as good as I am,” Jesse said.

“Wow!” Suit said.

Jesse smiled slightly.

“Right answer,” he said.

“So a good shot,” Suit said. “Standing here. Probably using a semiautomatic with ten, fifteen rounds in it. Why didn’t he kill them all?”

“I don’t know,” Jesse said.

They stood again in silence, looking at the crime scene. The ME’s truck had arrived. Peter Perkins had finished taking his pictures and was packing up his equipment. Arthur Angstrom was keeping the sightseers at bay behind some yellow tape. Molly and Eddie Cox were still talking to a huddle of restaurant workers and patrons and learning nothing.

“It wouldn’t be conscience,” Suit said.

Jesse smiled.

“No,” he said. “It wouldn’t be conscience.”