Robert B. Parker’s the Hangman’s Sonnet

“Wait a second,” he said, rapidly blinking his eyes as if to shake the cobwebs out. “The ME gave you those pills. When did you see—” He didn’t finish the question.

“That’s right, Jesse. We’ve got another body. This one’s in the nature preserve along Sawtooth Creek.”

“Another body? Who?”

“Gunshot. One to the head. One to the heart. Small-caliber. No exit wounds. Male, white, in his fifties. It looks like it’s one of the suspects.”

“Which one?”

“Curnutt.”

“King?”

“I think so. Can’t check the body for ID until the ME’s done with him.”

Jesse asked, “How long ago?”

“Doc says it looks like he’s been there for twenty-four hours plus.”

“No, Molly. How long since somebody called it in?”

“About an hour. I’ve been calling you on both phones since. After the way you looked at the press conference today and when you didn’t pick up, I figured you must’ve tied one on. When the ME showed up at the scene, I told her what I was thinking about you and she gave me those pills.”

“Alert the staties and then get back there. I’ll be there soon as I can manage.”

“I’m leaving Alisha here to drive you. Don’t even argue with me, Jesse. You’re in no shape to get behind the wheel of a vehicle and you won’t be for a while.”

He didn’t argue.

Molly stood, asked, “Should I call the mayor’s office?”

“You leave the mayor to me. I don’t want you to have to lie to cover for me.”

“Since when did that bother you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, Jesse.”

She didn’t bother explaining. Instead, she gritted her teeth and left.

38

The sun was just coming up as Alisha turned Jesse’s Explorer toward the nature preserve. He got an uneasy feeling in his already knotted gut when they turned past the open gate and onto the access road. In his drunken, hungover fog, he hadn’t given much thought to why Kirk Curnutt had been murdered way out here. He wondered if this had been the handiwork of Curnutt’s partner, Hump. It had been Jesse’s experience that honor among thieves was as sturdy as tissue paper and that it was easily torn apart by greed and self-preservation. But those two things cut just as sharply in the straight world as they did among thieves. He’d seen plenty of violence done in Bel Air, Brentwood, and even Paradise for the same reasons it happened in East L.A. or Skid Row.

When the Explorer came to a stop next to Tamara Elkin’s Jeep, Jesse turned to look at Alisha. They hadn’t spoken at all on the ride over. Even now, Jesse didn’t speak, not right away.

“What is it, Jesse?”

“If there’s trouble, I don’t want you to lie to cover anything up. Not for me or for Molly. Molly’s pension and benefits are secure and they won’t do anything to her anyway, but you’re still in your probationary period. You can be fired for cause.”

“But—”

“That’s an order. Someone from the mayor’s office or the Board of Selectmen makes an inquiry, you tell the truth. You’re going to make a helluva cop and you’re not going to screw that up on my account. Understood?”

She nodded.

“Okay. Now get out of the car.”

When she was gone, Jesse drank another bottle of water, took some deep breaths, and stared at himself in the visor mirror. He supposed he looked as good as he was going to look. The early hour was about the only thing working in his favor. Not many people were at their best or looked their best at this time of the morning. He’d showered and rubbed some Bengay onto his bad shoulder. It wasn’t that his shoulder hurt. For once it actually didn’t, not even after his fall over the coffee table. He hoped the intense menthol odor would help overwhelm the stink of his scotch sweat. He’d brushed his teeth hard enough to take off the enamel and used mouthwash until it burned his throat.

The early hour had helped him in another way. The mayor was dead asleep when he called and seemed almost as foggy as he had been. He was careful not to offer up too many details, not that he had many. Nor did he give her a story about how much time had elapsed between the discovery of the body and his arrival at the scene. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her... or him. He didn’t want to risk tripping himself up. If those sorts of questions ever came up, he’d be better equipped to handle them when he was less hungover. He did give her the news that the body, pending verification, was likely that of one of the suspects in the Maude Cain case and that he’d apparently been shot to death. She’d gone silent for a second or two after that.

“Do you think it was his accomplice who killed him?” she asked, some of the sleep gone from her voice.

“It’s possible, but so is anything else. We should know more soon.”

That seemed to placate her. “Keep me updated, Chief. I’ve got to make some calls” was all she’d said before hanging up.