The Bitterest Pill

Seventy-two

He listened to Lundquist’s voicemail as he strode to the car. He didn’t say much, but there was something foreboding in Lundquist’s voice.

Jesse sat in the front seat of the cruiser and returned the call.

“You ever think about taking your act on the road or handicapping at the track?” Lundquist asked.

“No riddles, Brian. I’m not in the mood.”

“Boston Homicide is having a busy day. You called it. Millie Lutz and Rajiv Laghari, both murdered. Lutz was shot to death early this morning driving away from Wexler’s house. Pro hitter, all the way. Motorcycle drive-by. Laghari’s death is more interesting. A junkie allegedly stabbed the good doctor to death in the vestibule of his condo. Want to guess what Boston PD Joint Task Force detective was there to arrest the doctor, showed up just two seconds too late to save Laghari, but was Johnny-on-the-spot to shoot the perpetrator to death?”

“Detective Hector.”

“Bingo.”

“Loose ends no more.”

“Looks that way.”

“Any other predictions, Nostradamus?”

“If I worked at Precious Pawn and Loan on Washington Street in the South End, I might watch out. And a guy named Arakel Sarkassian might want to start wearing a Kevlar vest.”

“You’re a little late on the pawn shop.”

“Two victims?” Jesse asked. “Man and a woman?”

“Nice recovery, Kreskin. Yes. A robbery gone wrong.”

“You still believe in the tooth fairy and Santa?”

“Santa. I never believed in the tooth fairy. But I hear what you’re saying. More loose ends taken care of. Who is this Sarkassian guy?”

“Maybe no one, but he had a connection to Chris Grimm. I’ll text you what I have on him.”

Lundquist cleared his throat. “Far as I can tell, Sarkassian is still drawing breath. How’s your boy?”

“I’m headed over to the hospital to pick him up.”

“Good — oh, Jesse, one more thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The white van, we got it on video in Helton and coming out of Helton.”

“You think the Grimm kid was killed in Helton and dumped on the way out of town?”

“Maybe so. That’s how I’m looking at the case, working back from where the body was discovered into Helton.”

Jesse wanted to know. “Any hits on the McDonald’s angle?”

“None in or near Helton.”

“Okay, Brian. Thanks. Can you send me the surveillance camera footage?”

“Will do.”

Before heading to the hospital, Jesse drove into the Swap. Jesse’s Explorer had been flatbed-towed over to Galliano’s Auto Body Shop on Trench Alley. Over the last several years, Jesse and Tony Galliano had become well acquainted. Jesse’s old Explorer, the one he’d had since L.A., had been shot to hell and wrecked during a wild car chase that had ended in a fiery explosion not far from the body shop, and a few months ago his new Explorer was deliberately rammed off the Bluffs and destroyed.

“Hey, Chief, you ever think maybe you might try a surplus tank or something?” Tony said, as he walked to greet Jesse. “You’re freakin’ murder on Explorers.”

“Totaled?”

Tony shrugged. “That’s up to your insurance adjuster. All I know is the replacement airbags alone will cost a fortune, never mind the body work. Jeez, Jesse, you think you can manage not to roll the next one over? That’s two outta three.”

“My son was driving.”

Tony’s cheery face became confused. “Son? You got a son? Runs in the family, then.”

“Long story for another time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You think I can have a look at it?”

“You own it... at least until the adjuster gets here. C’mon with me.”

Tony walked Jesse around behind the shop to the small lot where he kept the cars waiting to be worked on. When Jesse saw his SUV, he knew that totaling the thing would be a formality. It was damaged in a way only a rollover accident can damage a vehicle. But remembering what Cole had said about the van, he stepped to look at the driver’s side of the Explorer.

Tony spoke before Jesse had the chance. “Kid’s lucky. Looks like a vehicle wedged into the driver’s-side rear wheel well. Look how the quarter panel is pushed in. And you see how it’s sitting leaning over like that? That whole side of the suspension is bent up. So you want to take your stuff out of it?”

“I’ll send someone over for that. Thanks. I’ve got to go.”

Tony slapped Jesse on the shoulder. “Okay. In the meantime, I’ll get you some prices on a used Abrams tank.”

But Jesse wasn’t listening. He realized that he’d been meant to be the first loose end to be tied up.