“Why?”
“Because you have now officially lost your right to operate a motor vehicle.”
“What are you talking about?”
“License and keys,” Jesse said.
“No,” she said.
Jesse took out his cell phone and punched in a number. When Molly answered, he asked her which officer was closest to the Wilburforce School. When she named Rich Bauer, Jesse instructed her to have him get to the school parking lot as quickly as possible.
Then he stood silently, staring at Courtney.
She became uneasy. She was the centerpiece of a spectacle that was now appearing before nearly half the student body.
“What’s going on,” she said.
Jesse didn’t respond.
Within moments, Bauer’s cruiser entered the lot, siren blaring. He pulled to within inches of where Jesse was standing and got out of the car.
“What’s up, Skipper?”
“Please take Ms. Cassidy into custody, read her her rights and then escort her to jail.”
“You can’t do that,” Courtney said. “I’m at school.”
“Do it, Rich,” Jesse said.
Bauer approached Courtney, who backed away. He was forced to follow her until she finally stood still. Then he took his handcuffs from his service belt and cuffed her.
She started to cry.
After he read Courtney her rights, he walked her to his cruiser and placed her in the backseat. Then he got in and drove away.
Jesse phoned the station.
When Molly answered, he said, “Have Smitty come and impound Courtney’s Lexus, which is in the parking lot of the Wilburforce School.”
“Oh, baby,” Molly said.
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I’m on it,” she said.
Jesse looked around at the gawkers.
“Break it up,” he shouted. “It’s over.”
The students began to disperse.
Jesse retrieved an evidence bag from his cruiser. He put on a rubber glove and picked up Courtney’s cell phone. He placed it in the evidence bag.
He called the DA’s office.
Smitty’s flatbed was just pulling into the parking lot as Jesse was leaving. He handed the car keys to the driver. Then he walked back across the street, got into his cruiser, and drove away.
—
Third offense,” Jesse said to DA Aaron Silver.
They were sitting in Silver’s office, accompanied by Marty Reagan.
“I thought Marty asked you to drop this,” Silver said.
“I’ll ignore that remark,” Jesse said.
Silver sighed.
“I’ll settle for a one-year suspension of her driving privileges, which is state law,” Jesse said. “Also, the largest fine allowable.”
Silver didn’t say anything.
“Probation would also be good. It would keep her in the system and place her under our supervision.”
“Meaning,” Reagan said.
“Community service might prove invaluable to this child. Give her the opportunity to see how things really are.”
“No judge would sanction it,” Silver said.
“I’d like a hearing just the same,” Jesse said. “Perhaps I could convince him. Or her.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Silver said.
Jesse sat for a while.
“What,” Reagan said.
“It’s as if she can’t control herself,” Jesse said. “She appears to be demanding attention and doing it in a way that can’t be ignored.”
“I said I’d see what I can do,” Aaron Silver said.
“Just do the right thing,” Jesse said. “We’ve got a troubled kid on our hands.”
21
Richard and Portia Cassidy were waiting for Jesse at the station. They exuded money and breeding and a kind of arrogance that Jesse found offensive. He asked them to join him in his office.
Richard wore his black pin-striped Brooks Brothers suit well, but Jesse wondered why not even a single strand of his abundant salt-and-pepper hair was out of place. Had to be some kind of spray, he figured.
Portia was a handsome woman who might once have been beautiful. But Jesse saw that her looks had been augmented by plastic surgery. Her lips were drawn tight, and her skin appeared as if it had been ironed.
“May I offer you anything,” Jesse said as he stepped behind his desk.
“I’d like some coffee,” Mr. Cassidy said.
“Mrs. Cassidy?”
“I’d like your head on a platter,” she said.
Jesse looked at her.
Then he called for Molly, who appeared in the office doorway.
“Will you bring Mr. Cassidy a coffee, please,” he said.
“How do you take it,” she said.
“Black would be fine.” Molly left.
“We’re out of platters,” Jesse said to Portia.
“Don’t be impudent with me, Chief Stone,” she said.
“Jesse,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Jesse.”
“Can you believe this guy,” Portia said to her husband.
“What brings you here,” Jesse said.
“You know damned well what brings us here,” Portia said.
Molly entered with the coffee and handed it to Richard.
“Thank you,” Richard said to her.
To Jesse he said, “I understand you’ve arrested Courtney again. Isn’t this all a bit much?”
“Your daughter seems to delight in breaking the law and then flaunting it. Within a matter of days she’s become a three-time offender and appears to be either oblivious of that fact or proud of it.”
“You’re harassing her,” Portia said. “You’re purposely singling her out.”
Jesse looked at her.
“You do know that she narrowly escaped with her life in a traffic accident that she caused,” he said.
“Says you,” Portia said.
“Please, Portia,” Richard said. “This won’t get us anywhere. What is it you want, Chief Stone?”
“Your daughter needs some serious discipline.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” Richard said.
“You’ve already lost that privilege,” Jesse said. “She’ll be judged by the court now.”
“She’s seventeen years old,” Richard said. “She’s a minor. Nothing will come of this, I can assure you.”
“The law is clear about the penalties attached to cell-phone usage while driving.”
“And?”
“At the very least, your daughter’s right to drive is going to be suspended.”
“That’s a crock,” Portia said.
“And because she’s a three-time offender, this office is going to petition the court to have her placed on probation.”
“I’ve heard enough from this bastard,” Portia said as she stood. “I’m going after your head, Chief Stone. And you haven’t experienced the wrath of anyone like me before.”
“Have you always had head issues, Mrs. Cassidy?”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s the second time you singled out my head. I was just wondering if perhaps you had some kind of fixation.”
“There’s no talking to this asshole,” she said to her husband.
Richard Cassidy sighed.
“I suppose this isn’t over,” he said.
“You bet your sweet bippy it’s not,” Jesse said.
22
Jesse pulled his cruiser to a stop behind the orange-and-blue Water and Power truck that was parked on South Halsey Street.
He got out of his car and leaned heavily against the front fender, facing the sun, hoping to acquire even the slightest suggestion of a tan.
Oscar LaBrea appeared from the back of the house. When he spotted the cruiser, he headed to where Jesse was sunning himself.
“You looking for me,” he said.
Jesse continued to aim his face at the sun.
“Here I live in a seaside community and have no color whatsoever,” he said. “I’m trying to rectify that.”