Robert B. Parker’s the Hangman’s Sonnet

Molly was curious, but waited until Alisha had gone back to the desk. “What was that about?”

“Yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh’ is right.”

“If you’re going to bite my head off for—”

“Relax,” Jesse said, interrupting her. “I was apologizing to her.”

“Why? I was the one who got her in the middle of the situation.”

“But there shouldn’t have been a situation. I was responsible for that.”

Molly wasn’t going to argue with him, so that’s where they left it.

Jesse asked, “Are you in for the day?”

“For as long as you need me or until the overtime budget runs out. I’ve cooked enough food for my family for the next two days and everyone knows where they can find me.”

Jesse waved Molly over to his desk and handed her the photo of the missing dragonfly ring.

“My goodness, it’s gorgeous.” Molly held out her left hand next to the photo as if imagining the ring on her finger.

“It’s also missing from Maude Cain’s house.”

Jesse told Molly about his visit with Henry Wilmott. As he explained it to her, he could see Molly’s wheels turning.

She asked, “You think Curnutt and Bolton ripped Maude’s house apart to find this ring? It would explain why one might kill the other if they found it.”

“In L.A. I handled more than one case where friends killed each other over pocket change, so something worth as much as that ring would be reason enough.”

Molly saw the look on Jesse’s face. “But this isn’t L.A. and that ring isn’t pocket change. I can tell you don’t like it.”

“You do know me.”

“Too well,” Molly said with a laugh. “So what’s bothering you about it?”

“Everything.”

“That narrows it down.”

“Okay, how do two low-rent guys like Curnutt and Bolton know about this ring? You read their sheets. Either one of them strike you as a master jewel thief?”

“You know what it’s like inside. All those guys do is talk about big scores.”

“But only a very few people even knew she had the ring or about her deal with the museum.”

“Maybe someone hired Bolton and Curnutt.”

Jesse smiled. “I like that better, but unless you suspect Henry Wilmott, Maude’s lawyer, or Maude herself, who hired them? And it doesn’t explain why Bolton would make Curnutt come back to Paradise to kill him.”

“Maybe they never left town and maybe Bolton just picked the wrong place to get rid of his partner.”

“And maybe he just happened to decide to call it in to the police to make sure the body was found. I’m also pretty sure the person who called it in to the station was the killer. Why would Bolton do that?”

“Okay, so then what?”

“I don’t know. I read the ballistics report,” Jesse said. “The bullets that killed Curnutt were .22s, most likely fired from a Walther.”

“Yeah, Jesse, I read it, too. The slug recovered from the head was badly distorted, but the one recovered from the chest was in pretty good shape.”

“We recovered a nine-millimeter at the scene with Curnutt’s prints all over the gun and ammo. Either Bolton or Curnutt strike you as types to carry .22s or to bother with homemade sound suppressors?”

Now Molly was wearing the same skeptical face as her chief. “Okay, Jesse, so if the ring is missing but no one hired these guys to find it and the job wasn’t their idea—”

“It means they were looking for something else.”

“But what?”

“You tell me.”

47

Mayor Walker’s invitation to dinner at the Gull was a polite one, but Jesse Stone understood it was a command performance. It was just the three of them at the table by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the marina and Stiles Island. Although Jesse had gotten to the restaurant ten minutes early, he was the last to arrive. Just like with the polite invitation, he knew what that meant. The mayor and Nita were back at it, looking for every possible edge. They wanted to pick the table, to pick the chair he’d sit in. They wanted to see if he staggered a little when he approached. Jesse didn’t think Nita’s recent thawing toward him was all an act, but he understood her priorities.

He removed his PPD baseball cap as he approached their table, bowed his head slightly. “Your Honor. Miss Thompson.”

“No need for the formality tonight, Jesse,” the mayor said, smiling up at him. “We all seem to be on the same page these days, if not quite the same team.”

Jesse nodded, put his hat down on the seat next to him, the one without the place setting before it. “Okay, Connie.”

The mayor waved for the waitress.

“I’ll have a very dry martini with three olives.” She turned her head to her aide. “Nita?”

“Jim Beam Single Barrel. One ice cube.”

Jesse didn’t need prompting. “Club soda, lime, in a tall glass.”

The mayor and her adviser gave each other a look. They both seemed to want to say something, but neither did.

“So, Jesse,” Walker said when the waitress was out of earshot. “Nita tells me I owe you a debt of gratitude. That it was your idea to keep most of the information out of the media’s hands as to where this Curnutt fellow’s body was discovered and who may have called it in.”