Robert B. Parker’s the Hangman’s Sonnet

“More riddles. Look, Jesse, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your company, but it’s late. I’m beat. If I’m missing something, just tell me.”

“Terry Jester.”

“I know, I know,” Nita said, her voice thick with impatience. “They’re having a big birthday bash for him here next month. I’m the one who told the mayor she should make the most out of it.”

“You don’t know about The Hangman’s Sonnet?”

“The only sonnet I’m familiar with begins, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day.’”

“The Hangman’s Sonnet was a Terry Jester record.”

“Record!” She laughed at him. “Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me about dial phones and cassette tapes. Jeez, my parents were kids when Terry Jester was a star.”

Jesse shook his empty glass at Nita. “Pour us another. I’ve got a story to tell you.”

55

Jesse repeated for Nita Thompson what Roscoe Niles had told him about the missing master tape for The Hangman’s Sonnet and the fallout that ensued. As she listened, she sipped her scotch, keeping her handsome face expressionless. She remained calm and unconvinced.

She shrugged. “So this guy signed the note the ‘The Hangman.’ So what? You may not believe in coincidences, but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen. Maybe you’re wrong about the killing and this guy really is a psycho looking for as much attention as possible by signing the note that way. There’s been a lot of stuff in the papers about Terry Jester recently.”

“C’mon, Nita. Everything that’s been going on around here, from what happened in Maude Cain’s house to Curnutt’s murder, is about that missing master tape. It wasn’t the dragonfly ring they were looking for in Maude’s house. It was all about that key to that safety-deposit box and what was in the box. My guess is the master tape was in the box. The Hangman, whoever he really is, must have it.”

“You can’t be sure that’s what this is all about,” she said, finishing her drink in a single swallow. “If it is about that, why not just come out and say it?”

“Because he’s building interest or he’s trying to create buzz by leaking out little bits of information at a time. That’s why Curnutt was killed back in Paradise, why the killer called it in to us, why he leaked the info to this Selko guy at The Globe. He’s trying to create as much attention as he can.”

“For what purpose, Jesse?”

“My friend Roscoe Niles says the missing tape would be worth several million dollars to a collector if it ever resurfaced. Think about what it would be worth if there was a bidding war. Once the press gets hold of this, that’s exactly what will happen.”

“If you’re right, and I’m still unconvinced, it’s going to be a zoo,” she said. “Not only are we going to get the regular media, we’re going to get the music and entertainment crowd, the bloggers, the groupies... It’s going to be a nightmare.”

“Maybe we can buy ourselves a little more time.”

“How?” she asked. “You said you only bought us a day with Selko.”

“How much pull do you have further up the political food chain?”

“Some. Before I went out on my own, I used to work for the consultant to the governor and one of our senators. Why do you ask?”

“As bad as newspapers want to increase their circulation, they don’t like being used, especially by murderers. You have the governor and that senator call the publisher and put on some pressure, you never know. Happened in L.A. all the time.”

“Did it help?”

“Sometimes. The stories always made it into the papers eventually, but the extra time usually gave us the cushion we needed to get the suspect before word leaked out.”

“I’ll make some calls.” She clinked her glass against his now empty glass. “Let me freshen that for you.”

He waved her offer off in spite of himself.

Nita said, “Suit yourself. I can’t believe I ever underestimated you.”

“You say that a lot.”

She twisted up her mouth. “I’m not usually wrong about people, but I was about you. Still, Jesse, even if we buy an extra few days, what does that give us except time?”

“Whoever this Hangman is, he didn’t go through all this trouble to acquire the tape—”

Nita interrupted. “If that’s what this is really about.”

“If that’s what this is about, The Hangman didn’t go through all this because he’s a Terry Jester fan. Murder is usually about one of three things: money, rage, or sex. Given that the two victims were a ninety-one-year-old woman who died of a heart attack and a low-life thief executed with two clean shots, we can eliminate sex and rage. That leaves—”

“Money.”

“Whoever this guy is, he wants to use the papers to drive up the market value of the tape. The extra time will frustrate him, force his hand. Maybe he’ll get sloppy and make a mistake. Look, he’s already gotten impatient twice. First he called in the murder, then he sent the index-card photo and note to Selko.”

“Or maybe he’ll release the story to other outlets.”