The Bitterest Pill

Fifty-three

Jesse got to the Walters house before Lundquist. As Lundquist had pointed out, it was his case, so Jesse waited in his Explorer for the state homicide man to arrive. Jesse had already called Molly and given her a heads-up about Chris Grimm’s body.

“No official ID yet,” he’d said. “But you can alert everyone to stop looking and asking. Until we notify the mother, nobody says a word.”

“I got it, Jesse. Remember you told me to check for cases like Heather’s?”

“I do.”

“Well, I’ve come across several in and around Boston. I made a few calls and found two doctors whose names came up more times than made me comfortable.”

“Good work, Molly. I’ll have a look when I get back to the station.”

Jesse decided to finally Google Swingline Sue’s while he killed time waiting for Lundquist to show. He typed it into his phone, hit enter, and it popped right up. The first entry didn’t show anything unusual. It was a bar restaurant in Tipton, a few towns north of Paradise. It had a pretty run-of-the-mill menu: wings, salads, burgers, cheesecake. The place featured live music, karaoke, dancing, and cabaret. Jesse didn’t get the point until the next entry.

Every night is ladies’ night at this Tipton, Massachusetts, club. The 1940s-inspired décor is to die for and the place rocks. Rosie the Riveter, hang on to your hard hat. Whether it’s karaoke, disco with tunes spun by DJ Femmebot, or a campy cabaret experience you’re looking for, this is the venue. It’s mostly a girls’-night-out kind of place, but all are welcome. Cover charge after 11:00.

Although Jesse wasn’t getting the full picture of what the issue was between Maryglenn and Daisy, he had some idea of where whatever it was between them had its roots. But before he could get too invested in figuring it out, Lundquist rapped his knuckles against the glass of the driver’s-side window. Jesse rolled the window down.

“Let’s get this over with,” Lundquist said.

“Let’s.”

It had been Jesse’s experience that people understood what was going on even before a single syllable was uttered. When someone is missing and the police come to your door, there are a limited number of reasons for their presence. Although Jesse could not step outside himself to see the looks on his face and on Lundquist’s, he knew what their expressions must’ve telegraphed to Kathy Walters. And he was right.

While she didn’t collapse to the front hallway floor in hysterics, she took one look at Lundquist and Jesse and fell against the wall.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she said, hoping to be contradicted.

No one delivered on her hope.

“Kathy, this is Captain Brian Lundquist of the state police,” Jesse said. “It’s his case now.”

“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, Mrs. Walters, but we believe your son has been murdered.”

Kathy Walters gasped and fell to her knees. There were no tears, not yet. Jesse got on his knees beside her. “Captain Lundquist has some important things to say to you. Try to listen.”

“I know you have questions, Mrs. Walters, but I won’t be able to answer them until the body has been officially identified. Are you up to it, or is there someone else, your husband—”

She glared at Lundquist. “Never!”

Jesse put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, but I have to warn you, he’s in rough shape. Do you have anyone else?”

She was indignant. “I wasn’t there for him much when he was alive. I’m not going to leave this to nobody else now.”

Jesse helped stand her up. “Can I call anyone for you? Someone to be here for you when you get back?”

She shook her head.

Jesse handed her his card. “Captain Lundquist will take you. He’ll explain everything on the way. If you need anything from me, all of my numbers are there.”

She took the card, robotically, as if her arm was not a part of her. “Give me a minute, Captain.”

Kathy Walters zombie-walked down the hall and up the stairs.

Lundquist stared at Jesse and said, “Never gets easier, does it, Jesse?”

Jesse nodded. “Hasn’t yet. Doubt it ever will.”