“I know,” Jesse said. “I’ll meet her anywhere she wants.”
“So what do I tell her it’s for.”
“You’ll think of something,” Jesse said.
32
“THIS IS on me,” Marcy Campbell said to Jesse. “For the business you sent me.”
They sat across from each other at a window table in the Gray Gull.
“I thought you were doing me a favor,” Jesse said.
“Nope. I got to co-broker with Chuck Derby and get half his commission for very little work.”
“Well, good for me,” Jesse said. “I accept.”
“I knew you would,” Marcy said.
She was a handsome woman, several years older than Jesse, divorced, with grown children.
“Spike seems an unusual man,” Marcy said.
“I believe he is,” Jesse said. “But he’s Sunny Randall’s best friend.”
“And you like Sunny a lot,” Marcy said.
“I do.”
The waitress brought a vodka gimlet for Marcy, scotch and soda for Jesse.
“But not as much as Jenn,” Marcy said.
Jesse looked into his glass for a moment.
“I don’t know,” Jesse said.
“You don’t?”
“I don’t.”
“My God,” Marcy said.
Jesse shrugged.
“I’m trying to rethink things,” Jesse said.
“She’s gone again?” Marcy said.
“She’s in New York,” Jesse said.
“Alone?” Marcy said.
“Not likely,” Jesse said.
Marcy nodded.
“Good news and bad,” Marcy said.
“The good news?”
“That you’re starting to rethink.”
“You’ve never been a fan of Jenn’s,” Jesse said.
“I’ve always been a fan of yours,” Marcy said.
“And you’ve said your say already about Jenn.”
“Yes,” Marcy said.
“No need to plow that field again,” Jesse said.
“No,” Marcy said.
They each drank a little.
“Too bad we don’t want to get married,” Jesse said. “We get along so well.”
“Maybe if we wanted to get married,” Marcy said, “we wouldn’t get along so well.”
“Possible,” Jesse said.
He drank some more scotch.
“You’ve slept with a lot of men,” Jesse said.
“Excuse me?” Marcy said.
“Oh, stop it,” Jesse said. “We’ve both slept with a lot of people, and enjoyed it, and neither one of us is embarrassed about it.”
“Well,” Marcy said. “Yes.”
“Any of the men you know that didn’t want to look at you naked?”
“Didn’t?” Marcy said.
“Didn’t,” Jesse said.
“Are you implying something dreadful about my body?” Marcy said.
“No,” Jesse said. “I’m serious. Do you know any straight men who don’t want to look at a woman naked?”
“No,” Marcy said.
“Do you want to look at men with their clothes off?”
“What kind of survey is this?” Marcy said.
“Bear with me,” Jesse said. “Does male nudity interest you?”
“If a man’s in good shape, and we’re in the process of making love, yes, I sort of like to look at his body.”
“If I had a bunch of pictures of naked men, would you want to look?”
“No.”
“What about male strippers?” Jesse said. “Many women seem interested in them.”
“I’m not,” Marcy said. “I think that’s mostly about proving what wild-and-crazy girls they are.”
“You know any pornography for women?”
“Not for straight women,” Marcy said.
“Whorehouses for women?”
“Where women go to have sex with male prostitutes?” Marcy said.
“Yeah.”
“Ugh,” Marcy said.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Jesse finished his drink and looked around for the waitress.
“This is about that guy that breaks in and photographs women,” Marcy said.
“I guess,” Jesse said.
“You’re trying to figure him out,” Marcy said.
“I guess.”
“Jesse,” she said. “Maybe there’s a difference between normal male impulse and this guy.”
Jesse nodded.
“He doesn’t forcibly photograph nude women because he’s a man,” Marcy said. “He does it because he’s a wack job.”
The waitress came with their next round.
“So I don’t have to wrestle with gender guilt,” Jesse said.
“You have enough to wrestle with,” Marcy said, “without worrying about basic differences between the sexes.”
Jesse raised his glass.
“Vive la différence,”he said.
Marcy smiled.
“I’ll drink to that,” she said.
They looked at their menus quietly for a time.
“What’s bothersome,” Jesse said, “is that even in normal men, whatever that quite means, there’s never enough.”
“You mean no matter how many women you see naked, you want to see another one?”
Marcy said.
“Or the same one again.”
“That’s probably why he takes the pictures,” Marcy said.
“Maybe,” Jesse said. “It also suggests that he’ll keep going.”
“And that’s what you’re worried about,” Marcy said.
“Yep.”
“It is sort of crazy, isn’t it,” Marcy said. “Lot of men like to take pictures of wives and girl-friends.”
“Whom they’ve often seen naked,” Jesse said.
“And will again.”
“Maybe it’s not exactly about the nudity,” Jesse said.
“Even if it isn’t,” Marcy said, “how does that help you?”
“I don’t know,” Jesse said. “I just figure the more I understand about him, the better chance I have to get him.”
“It would probably be even more helpful if you knew what, exactly, it is about,” Marcy said.
“Sooner or later,” Jesse said.
“You really believe that?”
“Have to,” Jesse said, “to keep being a cop. I know better, but I still have to believe that if I keep looking at it and turning it around and rolling around on it, eventually I’ll come up with something.”
“To be the kind of cop you are,” Marcy said.
Jesse shrugged.
“Anybody take pictures of you?”
“Sure,” Marcy said.
Jesse smiled.
“Got any on you?” he said.
“No,” Marcy said. “But perhaps later this evening there’ll be a photo op.”
“I was hopeful,” Jesse said.
33
SUIT BROUGHT Kimberly Clark into Jesse’s office.
“Kim Clark,” he said. “Jesse Stone.”
They said hello and Kim Clark sat in a chair in front of Jesse’s desk. Suit looked at Jesse.
“On your way out,” Jesse said to him, “ask Molly to step in.”
Suit nodded and left. Kim Clark looked after him. Molly came in.
“Molly Crane,” Jesse said. “Kim Clark.”
They said hello. Kim was a smallish woman, neat figure, too much dark hair, about forty.
Jesse could see her daughter in her.
“I saw both of you at the school,” Kim Clark said. “That business with Mrs. Ingersoll.”
Jesse nodded.
“I’ve asked Molly to join us, as I do whenever I’m talking with a woman in my office,” Jesse said. “Unless you object.”
“I have no objection,” Kim Clark said.
“This is a first-name police department,” Jesse said. “I’m Jesse. She’s Molly, and I hope we may call you Kim.”
“Of course,” Kim said. “Why am I here?”
“As I’m sure Suit explained,” Jesse said, “we’re investigating a case unrelated to you, but we feel that you might be able to help us.”
“I’m not in trouble, am I?” Kim said. “Luther said I wasn’t in trouble.”
“No, no,” Jesse said. “Of course not. I’m just hoping you can give us some information that will help us.”
“Is it about the swinging?”
“You are not in trouble,” Jesse said. “About the swinging or anything else. But I am looking for information about swinging.”
“It’s perfectly legal,” she said.
“I know,” Jesse said.