Fool Me Twice Page 8
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“Look, I didn’t come here to get into another argument with you. Courtney’s in some kind of trouble. And I don’t just mean that she broke a few laws. I’d like to see if there’s any way I can help her.”
“How about you help her by returning to your police station and finding something better to pursue than the harassment of an innocent child.”
“You don’t really get it, do you?”
“Oh, I get it, all right. I get just what you’re about.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“You’ve got your hand out just like they all do.”
“You think this is about extortion?”
Cassidy didn’t say anything.
“That’s what you think?”
“How much do you want,” Cassidy said.
Jesse glared at him.
“Your daughter appears to be careening into some serious trouble,” he said. “I’m not altogether convinced that either you or Mrs. Cassidy actually grasps that fact.”
Richard Cassidy stood.
“Thank you for your concern, Chief Stone,” he said. “Duly noted and appreciated. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are matters that require my immediate attention.”
Jesse stood.
He looked at Richard Cassidy for a few moments.
Then he left.
28
Jesse was sitting at his desk, silently staring out the window, when Molly came in and sat down.
“What’s wrong,” she said.
“Nothing.”
“Come on. Out with it.”
Jesse swiveled his chair around and looked at her.
“There’s nothing wrong.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“Sometimes I think it’s not worth it.”
“What’s not worth it?”
“The job. It’s not worth it.”
“Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?”
“Here I’m trying to figure out what can be done to assist this young woman . . . this child, really . . . who might just as well be standing in the middle of the street screaming ‘Help me,’ and all I get is resistance.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“Carter Hansen tells me to leave the girl alone because it’s bad for business. Aaron Silver says to lay off because her father is his biggest contributor. And the father tells me to name my price.”
“You mean he offered you a bribe?”
“Yes.”
“He actually told you to name your price?”
“He did.”
“How much did you ask for?”
Jesse looked at her.
“She nearly killed herself,” he said.
“What else?”
“That’s not enough?”
“There’s something else. I know it.”
“The water commissioner is accusing me of persecuting him and now won’t talk to me.”
“William Goodwin thinks you’re persecuting him?”
“Yes.”
“The little midget?”
“‘Little midget’ is redundant.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“And it’s escalating. For the life of me I can’t understand why. I’m telling you, Molly, it’s not worth it.”
“So you are feeling sorry for yourself.”
“It’s a thankless job.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“Exhausting, too.”
“Why don’t you do what you always do when you’re feeling sorry for yourself?”
“What’s that?”
“Go home and drink half a bottle of scotch.”
“I don’t do that anymore.”
“So then it’s not so bad.”
Jesse looked at her.
“Time was all kinds of stuff set you off,” she said. “The job. Jenn. Yourself. You’re better now.”
Jesse shrugged.
“Don’t shrug. You are.”
“It still makes me crazy.”
“This job would make anybody crazy. But you’re good at it. You’re graced with the rare gift of compassion. You actually care. Which is admirable. And people care about you, Jesse.”
“Including you?”
“Especially me.”
Jesse smiled.
Molly stood.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home and feed my family.”
“Thanks, Molly.”
“You’re a good man, Jesse,” she said.
She sauntered out of the office only to turn around in the doorway.
“I knew it,” she said.
“Knew what?”
“That it was redundant. Sometimes I just like to amuse myself.”
29
It was late afternoon when Jesse parked in front of Ida Fearnley’s Craftsman bungalow in the north end of Paradise. Lush mountain laurel and rhododendrons, still green, gave the property an air of seclusion. Elm and maple trees, yellow and red, cast shadows on the lawn.
Jesse lowered the windows of his cruiser and breathed the cool afternoon air. Above, large cirrus clouds hung heavy with the promise of rain.
Ida’s Lincoln pulled into her driveway. It took her a few moments to extricate herself from behind the wheel.
She noticed Jesse leaning against his cruiser.
“I think it’s time we had a little chat, Ida,” Jesse said.
“On or off the record?”
“However you’d like it.”
“Off. I suppose you’ll be wanting coffee.”
“Coffee would be good.”
She climbed the steps to her porch and motioned for him to follow as she unlocked the door and opened it.
Inside, they were greeted by two oversized tortoiseshell cats, who wove between Ida’s legs as she walked down the hall.
“Sadie. Cybill. Enough,” Ida said.
It was only after she poured some dry food into their bowls that they settled down.
Ida fired up the coffeemaker. She took out a box of ladyfingers and placed several on a plate in front of Jesse, who sat at her kitchen table.
“I can’t say I’m surprised by your visit,” Ida said as she waited for the coffee to brew. “You’ve certainly managed to upset him.”
She poured two cups and brought them to the table. She put them down, then she put herself down, heavily, on the chair across from Jesse. She sighed deeply as she sat.
“What do you know,” she said.
Jesse told her.
“He’s involved. Both he and Oscar.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Over the last few years, as he became less and less relevant at the state level, he became more and more militant here. At first it was just the ranting. How many people on the planet go to bed thirsty? Waterborne diseases are the leading cause of death in children under the age of five? You know, stuff like that.”
“And?”
“Nobody took him seriously.”
“Why, do you suppose?”
“Lots of reasons. He was from a small town. He had no clout. His issues were perceived as politically inconvenient. He visited the state capitol regularly and got nowhere fast. What remains unspoken is that he was the subject of ridicule down there. The way he dressed, his size, his voice . . . after a day spent being diminished by the Springfield old boys’ club, it took him weeks to recover. He told me it was like the schoolyard all over again. Only this time he was being bullied insidiously.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I think the critical moment came when he made the leaky-pipes proposal. He had personally authorized a study which proved that the pipes carrying fresh water from the Massachusetts reservoirs to the neighborhoods in and around Paradise were old and profusely leaking, costing the state millions of gallons of wasted water. He made a proposal to have those pipes either replaced or repaired. They ignored him. I think that’s when he snapped.”
“Meaning?”
“What you suspected. He and Oscar worked out a scheme which identified those who they believed were the biggest abusers and then penalized them. When they realized that their scheme had gone undetected, they upped the ante. They went after everyone.”
“By falsifying the meter readings.”
“Yes.”
“How were they able to get away with it?”
“They jacked up the rates in such a way as to make the raises barely noticeable. They started with one percent and, over time, inched closer to three percent. Recently they exceeded it.”
“Which may have been the tipping point.”
“Perhaps.”
“It’s when the complaints began.”
Ida didn’t say anything.
“What did they do with the money?”
“Well, first they repaired the damaged pipes. Then they started to give it away. They made anonymous donations to drought-stricken territories around the world. I don’t really know any of the specifics. I heard him mention places like Africa and India. Disaster areas like Haiti and Japan. As I say, I don’t really know the details.”
They sat quietly, awkwardly, for a time. Jesse sipped his coffee. Ida ate several ladyfingers.
“Why didn’t you come forward with this?”
“I don’t know, Jesse. I suppose I should have. But I couldn’t. He’s a visionary. He means everything to me.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“After so many years of working with someone, you grow close. You come to admire him, to believe in him. You never question his values because over time they have also become yours. They were so cruel to him. They couldn’t see beyond his appearance. They humiliated him. He’d come back from his meetings so dispirited. It broke my heart.”
“So you looked the other way?”
“I guess. At first I didn’t know. They met behind closed doors. Oscar was his acolyte. He worshipped the man. William was most likely the first person who ever took him seriously. Oscar would do anything for him.”
“Including falsifying records.”
Ida didn’t say anything.
“When did you learn?”
“The meetings became more frequent. I was being asked to produce past records. Instructed to intercept invoices prior to their being sent. I suppose that’s when I really knew. But I couldn’t bring myself to admit it.”
“When was that?”
“A while ago.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I guess I’m in trouble,” she said.
“I don’t know, Ida. This is all so improbable. Have you any sense of the overall size of the thefts?”
“The thefts?”
“That’s what they were.”
“Yes. I guess I can see that.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have any idea of the overall size of the thefts.”
“My guess is they were big. Not Madoff big, but significant.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“There is one thing,” Ida said.
“What’s that?”
“There’s been tension between them of late. Ever since you started nosing around.”
“Between Oscar and William?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It has something to do with money. They’ve taken to arguing. A lot. Which they never did before.”
“Over money?”
“Yes.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“What will happen to him,” she said.
“He’s likely to be held accountable.”
“Does that mean jail time?”
“I’m a cop, Ida, not a judge.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I need to mull this over for a while.”
“He wouldn’t do well in jail.”
“I know.”
“I don’t suppose I would, either,” she said.
30
How’s it going,” Jesse said.
“As you might expect,” Crow said.
They were drinking coffee alongside the craft service truck, a sort of fast-food place on wheels that provided snacks and between-meals goodies for the movie personnel.
Marisol was in the nearby makeup-and-hair trailer. Crow’s attention was totally focused on the people entering and exiting it.
“What’s she like?”
“She’s very demanding. She wants things her way. She becomes agitated when they’re not. On the other hand, she’s extremely self-centered.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I suppose she’s not a bad person. It’s just that she’s preoccupied with herself. But she’s probably no different from high-profile politicians and corporate bigwigs.”
The two men drank their coffee.
“Have I mentioned that she’s also an amazing pain in the ass?” Crow said.
“How disillusioning.”
“She’s never satisfied. Nothing suits her. She complains constantly.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“She’s frightened.”
“Still?”
“She admitted that she did something she knew would piss him off.”
“Dare I ask?”
“She bounced a check on him. Now she’s afraid he’s in a financial bind and that’s why he’ll come after her.”
“Do you believe it?”
“That he’ll come after her?”
“Yes.”
“Never take any threat lightly.”
The door to the trailer opened, and a middle-aged woman wearing a ball cap and a smock stuck her head out. She looked around until she spotted Crow.
“She wants you,” the woman said.
Crow waved to her.
“My turn in the barrel,” he said as he headed for the trailer.
“Try not to hurt yourself,” Jesse said.
—
Ryan had rented the cabin through Craigslist and had arranged to pick up the keys at a post office box in Salem. They had been left in the name Buddy Fairbanks.
He drove ten miles to the cabin, located on the outskirts of South Hamilton, a short distance from Paradise, hidden in dense tree cover. It was equipped with a kitchen, satellite dish, and worn but comfortable furniture.
He carried his groceries inside. He dumped his duffel bag in the bedroom. He ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, showered, and climbed into bed.
So far, so good, he thought. In more than three days of travel across the width of the United States, no one had seen him. No one knew his whereabouts. He was a ghost.
He rolled over, closed his eyes, and slept.
31
I’m not exactly certain why you’re here,” District Attorney Aaron Silver said.
He was sitting at his desk, facing Marty Reagan and Jesse, who were seated opposite him.
“The hearing,” Jesse said.
“What about it?”
“It’s scheduled?”
“For Thursday,” Silver said.
“With Judge Green?”
“Yes.”
“Are you planning to recuse yourself,” Jesse said.
“Why in the hell would I do that?”
“Because it would be the right thing for you to do.”
“You’re out of line, Jesse.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“What’s with this guy,” Silver said to Reagan.
Reagan shrugged.
“We’re done here,” Silver said, standing.
Jesse remained seated.
“I said we’re done.”
“If I have to, I’m prepared to scream bloody murder all the way to the Supreme Court.”
“What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Richard Cassidy is one of your biggest campaign contributors. If you don’t recuse yourself, you’ll be creating one hell of an ethical dilemma for yourself.”
“You�
�re questioning my integrity?”
“Come off it, Aaron. Appoint Marty to stand in your stead and get the fuck out of the way.”
Silver didn’t say anything.
“And while you’re at it, take Judge Green with you.”
“You’re off your rocker, Jesse, you know that,” Silver said.
“Everyone knows you two are joined at the hip. She’s your go-to judge. Get her to recuse herself, too. Don’t stink this up, Aaron.”
“You are one piece of business coming in here and talking to me this way.”
“So you’ll do it?”
Silver was silent. He swiveled his chair around and stared out the window for a while.
Jesse glanced at Reagan, who briefly made eye contact with him before looking away.
“All right,” Silver said, his back still turned to Jesse.
“Wise choice,” Jesse said, standing.
“Get the fuck out of here, Jesse,” Silver said.
Jesse said nothing as he left.
—
So tomorrow you start shooting,” Jesse said. “Are you nervous?”
“Opening-night jitters,” Frankie said.
“What could go wrong?”
“Most likely nothing.”
“So what are you nervous about?”
“Comes with the territory.”
They were sitting on Jesse’s porch, having just eaten an extra-large meatball, garlic, and onion pizza, which they washed down with Sam Adams ale.
The sun was bouncing its last rays of the day off the restless waters of the bay. Crickets had begun to chirp their night songs. The fall air was brisk, absent humidity. It smelled of the sea and the encroaching chill of winter.
They were sitting together on Jesse’s love seat, separated only by Mildred Memory, who had insinuated herself between them.
“This is nice,” Frankie said. “Almost makes me forget why I’m here.”
“The reason you’re here is to overeat, suffer unspeakable bouts of lassitude, then recover in time to engage in super-human feats of gymnastic-style lovemaking.”
“I knew that.”
“What time tomorrow do you start?”
“First shot should be off by six-thirty.”
“In the morning?”
She looked up at him.
He looked at his watch.
“My God,” he said. “We’d better speed through this lassitude part.”
“If only there hadn’t been meatballs,” she said.