Robert B. Parker’s the Hangman’s Sonnet

Of course Molly was referring to the fact that her boss used the privilege of his title to make every day his version of casual Friday. Full uniform for Jesse usually consisted of his cop shirt — tucked in — with jeans, work boots or running shoes, and a blue baseball cap with the letters PPD stitched across the crown in white. In colder weather he wore his lined cop jacket.

“When the mayor cans my ass and you inherit the job,” Jesse said, “you can dress however you like. You can wear your old high-school uniform for all I care.”

Molly got a sick look on her face as if it never occurred to her that she would be Jesse’s natural successor.

“No, thanks, Jesse. I’m happy right where I am. Besides, I gave away all my old clothes a long time ago.”

“Shame.” He winked at her, a smile on his face.

Still smiling, Jesse shook his head at her and immediately regretted it. His initial adrenaline rush was fading into a distant memory and the pills Tamara had given him were no longer doing the trick. If the mayor wasn’t right outside, he would have gone back upstairs and begged a few more Fiorinal from the ME. Even with Her Honor so close, Jesse didn’t exactly snap into action. Molly noticed.

“Jesse, don’t you think you better get out there?”

“It’s a crime scene. She can’t come in without my say-so.”

“Can’t avoid her forever, and you really don’t look any worse than anyone else who was at the wedding reception. The mayor was putting it away pretty good herself before she split.”

Jesse said, “I didn’t notice. Let me get out there. Remember, have—”

“I know, Jesse. I’ll get someone working on next of kin.”

Jesse stepped out onto the old wooden porch and noticed that the crowd around the crime scene tape had grown considerably since he’d entered the house. He also noticed the mayor scowling at Alisha, who was refusing to allow Her Honor to come beneath the tape. The mayor’s new assistant and political adviser, Nita Thompson, a slick-looking early-thirtysomething out of Harvard who was working her way up the consultant ladder, was staring up at Jesse shaking her head at him. There’d been a bull’s-eye on Jesse’s back since she arrived.

Things between Mayor Walker and Jesse hadn’t been great over the last several years. First there was the discovery of the remains of two teenage girls who’d gone missing from Paradise twenty-five years earlier, and an ugly spate of violence that followed. The violence had nothing to do with Jesse, who, in the end, solved the case and brought the last remaining killer to justice. It didn’t seem to matter to the mayor. Crime focused the wrong kind of attention on Paradise, and whatever made Paradise look bad made her look bad. Their relationship really deteriorated after Diana’s murder. That violence was directly tied to Jesse. When rumors about Mayor Walker’s political ambitions began circulating and a political consultant showed up in town, Jesse knew he was in for a hard time. It was pretty clear that Nita Thompson meant to hang as much bad baggage around Jesse’s neck as possible.

He called down from the porch. “Alisha, let the mayor up. Only the mayor.”

Jesse didn’t have to see the look on Thompson’s face to know her eyes were burning a hole right through him. He had other things to worry about, like the mayor racing up to him, a less-than-friendly expression on her face.

“Chief Stone, why is your officer keeping me off—”

“Chief Stone?” He cut her off. “Yesterday during our dance it was Jesse. Have we broken up?”

“Not funny, Chief. Not funny. And as I was saying, why—”

He cut her off again. “Because Alisha was doing her job as she’s been trained to do it. This is a crime scene, almost certainly the scene of a homicide and a serious assault. Evidence is being gathered by our people and the state Forensics Unit. The ME is still upstairs with the body. We need to limit the number of people who might unknowingly contaminate the scene.”

Mayor Walker was unmoved. “I’m the mayor of Paradise, Chief Stone. You had better instruct your officers, old and ridiculously new, that when I want access to anything in this town, I expect to get it. And why did I have to find out about this from the fire chief and not the chief of police?”

Because, Madame Mayor, I am not interested in kissing your ass.

“What are you smiling at, Stone? Did I say something amusing?”

“Was I smiling? It must have been a random thought. Sorry.”

“Answer my question.”

“Before I alert you, Your Honor, I need to gather information and have my facts straight. I was in the process of doing that.”

Just then, the two men from the ME’s office came up the front steps, one carrying an empty body bag under his arm. Jesse and the mayor stepped aside. After they passed, the mayor gestured toward the crowd that had gathered around the house, as well as the satellite dish — equipped news vans that had pulled to the curb.