“You never know,” he said.
“I’m particularly convinced,” Ingersoll said, “that you certainly would never know.”
“Small-town cop, Mr. Ingersoll,” Jesse said. “Small-town cop.”
“That’s apparent,” Ingersoll said.
“You didn’t see his car or anything, did you, Mrs. Ingersoll?”
“How could I see his car?” she said. “I was tied up on the couch.”
Jesse nodded.
“It’s just that Officer Maguire made no mention of seeing any rope or anything.”
“Of course not,” she said. “When I got loose, I threw it away. I’m very neat, Chief Stone.
And I had no sentimental attachment to it.”
Jesse nodded.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” he said.
“About this, ah, groping,” Jesse said. “Could you talk about that a little more?”
Betsy Ingersoll looked at her husband.
“That’s enough, Stone,” Jay Ingersoll said. “I’m not going to let her be further traumatized while you go all over this for your salacious pleasure.”
From her chair in the corner, Molly said, “Hey.”
Jesse made a stop gesture at her.
“Are you speaking as her husband or her attorney,” Jesse said to Ingersoll.
“Attorney,” Ingersoll said.
“Okay, Counselor,” Jesse said. “It’s your call.”
“It is,” Ingersoll said. “And I can do without any kibitzing from your subordinate in the corner.”
“Everyone can,” Jesse said.
Ingersoll stood and took his wife’s arm. She stood with him.
“Keep me informed,” Ingersoll said, and they walked out.
48
“THAT SONOVABITCH,” Molly said.
“Jay Ingersoll?”
“Asshole,” Molly said.
“He does have a nice, easy way about him,” Jesse said.
“I was married to him,” Molly said, “I’d run off with the Night Hawk.”
Jesse smiled and nodded.
“He’s very important,” Jesse said.
“He implied you were after sex details because they turned you on.”
“I believe he did,” Jesse said.
“And that you were incompetent.”
Jesse nodded.
“He was, like, mad at you about this,” Molly said.
“And his wife,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, and me, for crissakes.”
“Insufferable,” Jesse said.
“Doesn’t it make you mad?”
“I was thinking about other stuff,” Jesse said.
“Like what?”
“What do you think of her story?”
Molly paused in mid-anger.
“Her story,” she said.
“Yep.”
Molly sat back a little and thought about it.
“He hit her,” Molly said.
Jesse nodded.
“He fondled her,” Molly said.
“Uh-huh.”
“And”—Molly began to speak fast—“he tied her up.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If I wasn’t so busy being outraged at Jay Ingersoll, I’d have noticed that right away.”
“True,” Jesse said.
Molly was quiet again, rolling it around in her head.
“The Night Hawk never touched them,” Molly said.
“Correct,” Jesse said.
“So either the Night Hawk has changed his approach, or it’s a copycat. . . .” Molly said.
“Or . . .” Jesse said.
Molly frowned.
“Or?” she said.
Jesse waited.
“Or she made it up,” Molly said.
Jesse nodded.
“And she didn’t know the details,” he said.
“Which is why we never released the details,” Molly said. “So if there was a copycat or something, we’d know.”
“Yep,” Jesse said.
Molly grinned at him.
“We’re pretty smart,” she said.
“Sure,” Jesse said.
“You think she made it up?”
“Maybe,” Jesse said.
“Why?”
“Husband?” Jesse said.
“To get his attention?”
“Maybe,” Jesse said. “Maybe the civil suit about the panty patrol.”
“Sympathy?” Molly said.
“Maybe.”
“Or it could be a copycat,” Molly said.
“It could.”
“Or the Night Hawk could have escalated,” Molly said.
“I hope not.”
“What about the pictures?” Molly said. “Unless it’s the Night Hawk, there shouldn’t be a picture sent.”
“Public knowledge,” Jesse said. “The women talked about it. The press picked it up. Anyone would know to send pictures.”
“And the letters?”
“Less public,” Jesse said.
“So you might get a picture, but unless it’s the Night Hawk, you shouldn’t get a letter.”
Jesse nodded.
“And if she made it up, you shouldn’t get either,” Molly said.
“Unless she took one herself,” Jesse said.
“Who would do that?” Molly said.
“Someone who had made this all up in the first place,” Jesse said.
“And would send it to you?”
“This is the woman who conducted the great thong search,” Jesse said. “We don’t know what’s driving her.”
“I don’t believe it,” Molly said.
“Me either,” Jesse said. “It’s a hypothesis, like the escalated Night Hawk or the copycat.
We’ll test them all.”
“Wow,” Molly said, “like high school physics, the scientific method.”
“And Ingersoll thinks we’re just small-town cops,” Jesse said.
49
SPIKE REOPENED the Gray Gull on a Thursday night, and Sunny Randall drove up and had dinner there with Jesse. They sat at the new and larger bar, and ordered from the new and expanded bar menu.
“You’re having a martini,” Sunny said.
“I am.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink anything but scotch.”
“Sometimes I just don’t give a damn,” Jesse said.
Sunny smiled. She raised her own glass, and they touched rims.
“Change is good,” she said.
They drank.
“I tell you about this kid I’m trying to help,” Jesse said.
“Missy?” Sunny said. “Her parents are swingers?”
“That’s the one,” Jesse said. “The mother hates swinging but does it because the father insists. The father hits Missy, and also Missy’s mother. The younger brother is terrified and wets the bed.”
“For which the father probably smacks him, too,” Sunny said.
“Probably,” Jesse said.
“Time for an intervention,” Sunny said.
“Yeah, I’m having them in next week.”
“Kids, too?”
“No.”
“Good idea,” Sunny said. “They’ll have less reason to pretend.”
“What are you after?” Sunny said.
“At the meeting?”
“Uh-huh,” Sunny said. “You think you can get the father to straighten up and fly right?”
“No,” Jesse said. “But first I’ll get a sense of how bad he is—all my information on him is secondhand.”
Sunny nodded.
“And if he’s as bad as he sounds,” Jesse said, “maybe I can scare him into behaving better.”
“At least you’ll have firsthand experience with what he is,” Sunny said. “Long as you don’t expect him to turn into a better guy.”
“No, but maybe I can get him to stop with the wife-swapping, and no longer hit his wife and children,” Jesse said.
“That would be a start,” Sunny said.
“And then maybe if he seemed less scary to her,” Jesse said, “she might find her way out of the marriage.”
“Clinging too long to a marriage,” Sunny said, “is maybe not a good idea, huh?”
Jesse smiled at her.
“We need another cocktail,” he said, and gestured to the bartender.
“Two’s my limit on these,” Sunny said.
“I know,” Jesse said. “More than two martinis and my speech starts to slur.”
“In my case I start to undress,” Sunny said.
Jesse turned to the bartender.
“Make that a double for Ms. Randall,” he said.
They both laughed.
“No double,” Sunny said to the bartender. To Jesse she said, “It’s not necessary.”