Molly looked at Jesse.
“You rigged that,” she said.
“No comment,” Jesse said.
“It’s illegal as hell,” Molly said.
“Undoubtedly,” Jesse said.
“And I’ll bet that Chase won’t lay a hand on his wife and kids,” Molly said.
“My bet,” Jesse said.
“Still, “Molly said. “You don’t mind, I’ll check on them.”
“We all will,” Jesse said.
“You think it’ll work?” Molly said.
“It’s a start,” Jesse said. “Maybe we can nurture it.”
53
SUIT AND Jesse were playing catch in the parking lot behind the station. Suit had a first baseman’s mitt, and Jesse had his old Rawlings fielder’s glove, with the round red R logo stitched on the base of the thumb. Jesse’s throws popped when they hit Suit’s glove.
“I thought you hurt your arm,” Suit said.
“Did,” Jesse said.
“Well, it feels like a big-league arm to me,” Suit said.
“That’s because you haven’t played with a big-league arm.”
The ball popped again in Suit’s glove.
“Jesus,” Suit said. “I been playing first base in the softball league every summer since I got out of high school. And nobody throws a ball like you.”
“Muscle memory,” Jesse said.
“You know Harley, played defensive end for BC? He’s twice your size. When he played third for us one year, his throws came across the infield and hit my glove like a boulder. But yours, they like hiss, and plane, like a fucking bullet.”
“If I had to play a hundred-and-sixty-two-game season my arm would fall off,” Jesse said.
“Softball season is, what, thirty, forty games? Even then I have to ice my shoulder every night.”
“Well, all I know,” Suit said, “is the goddamned thing hums coming across the diamond.”
Jesse was throwing easily, and the day was warm. But he could already feel the twinges in his right shoulder. They’d be worse tonight.
“Time,” Jesse said.
They sat in the shade on the running board of one of the town trucks and drank some water.
“How’s Kim,” Jesse said.
“Saw her today,” Suit said. “Molly and I swap off, one of us stops by every day, see how she is. After asshole Chase has gone to work and the kids are in school.”
“And?” Jesse said.
“She’s okay. She says he hasn’t laid a hand on her since you talked to him.” Suit smiled.
“And Spike. Kimmy says he won’t even tell her what Spike said to him.”
“Any swinging?” Jesse said.
“Nope, she says he comes home pretty late from work, and she knows he’s been drinking.
But he doesn’t say anything to her or the kids.”
“She mention their sex life?”
“For crissakes, Jesse,” Suit said.
“She have any plan?”
“Mostly she’s numb. I think her plan is to get through the day, as best she can, you know?”
“I know,” Jesse said.
They threw for another ten minutes and went back into the station house.
In his office Jesse sat at his desk and put a little neat’s-foot oil on his glove. Without getting up he put the glove carefully on top of a file cabinet, then picked up the phone and called Sunny Randall.
“How’s your press contacts?” Jesse said.
“I have some,” Sunny said.
“Do you know that Jay Ingersoll’s wife was the apparent victim of a home invasion, by the Night Hawk?”
“The big-deal lawyer?” Sunny said.
“Yep.”
“The one that was involved in some sort of thing with girls’ underwear?” she said.
“Yep?”
“How come I haven’t heard about it? Were there pictures?”
“Yep.”
“What do you want from my press contacts?” she said.
“Publicity for the event,” Jesse said.
“The home invasion?”
“Yep.”
Sunny was silent for a time.
Then she said, “You hate publicity.”
“I do,” Jesse said. “But not this time.”
“Should they contact you?”
“Absolutely,” Jesse said. “I am eager to tell them everything.”
Again, Sunny was silent for a time.
Finally she said, “You’re up to something.”
“I am.”
“And I’m sure you’ll tell me about it,” Sunny said. “Sometime.”
“Of course,” Jesse said.
Sunny said, “I’ll make some calls.”
54
AS JESSE expected, the letter from the Night Hawk came only days after the news stories about Betsy Ingersoll’s ordeal.
Dear Jesse,
Who is kidding whom? I did not invade that woman’s home, or hit her, or make her undress, or tie her up on the couch. I have never had anything to do with her. And you know I have never touched one of my conquests. That’s not what I’m about. I didn’t take a picture of her. If someone sent you a picture of her, it was not I. You know I do not lie to you, Jesse. I have told you what I did after I did it, and I have been open and straightforward with you, even when it was embarrassing (like running away that time). So believe me when I tell you that I had nothing to do with anything that happened to Betsy Ingersoll. Somebody else did it.
Somebody else took the picture. Somebody else sent it to you. I admit I’d really like to see the picture (my obsession kicks in). Seeing a school principal naked, if she’s even halfway presentable, is particularly appealing. Authority exposed. But I didn’t do it, and I don’t like getting blamed for something I didn’t do. And I resent some copycat pretending to be me. I’m sorry for you, in a way. It increases your problems, now that you have two of us to look for.
On the other hand, maybe he’s stupid and you’ll catch him and it’ll make you look good for a little while, until I make my move again. Or maybe you won’t catch either of us. You don’t have much of a track record.
The Original Night Hawk
(accept no substitute)
Jesse showed the letter to Molly, in his office. She read it through slowly, and read it again.
“That’s interesting about ‘authority exposed,’ ” Molly said.
“Yes.”
“You knew he’d do this,” Molly said.
“I was hopeful,” Jesse said.
“Which is why you were so forthcoming to the press,” Molly said.
“Free flow of information is vital to a thriving democracy,” Jesse said.
“Which is why,” Molly said, “ever since I’ve known you the only thing you’ve ever said to the press is ‘No comment.’ ”
“But it is said in a free-flowing kind of way.”
“You believe him?” Molly said.
“He has no reason to lie, and her story has a lot of soft spots in it.”
“So you believe him,” Molly said.
“Yes.”
“I do, too,” Molly said.
“Which leaves us with another question,” Jesse said.
“Did somebody else do it, pretending to be the Night Hawk? Or did she do it herself?”
“Which one do you like?” Jesse said.
Molly sat quietly for longer than Jesse had thought she would.
But finally she said, “I think she did it herself.”
“Me too,” Jesse said.
“So that’s our theory of the case,” Molly said.
“It is,” Jesse said.
“Her story is suspicious.”
“Yes,” Jesse said.
“If she was on the stand, a good lawyer would make her look bad.”
“Yes,” Jesse said.
“But we’ll never get her on the stand,” Molly said.
“Nope.”
“We don’t have enough for an indictment.”
“Unless she fesses up,” Jesse said.
“You still think she did it because of her husband?” Molly said.
“There’s tension between them,” Jesse said.
“Yes.”
“She mentioned how he always worked late, I recall,” Jesse said.
“And she implied he didn’t have much respect for her,” Molly said. “Maybe she did it to get his attention.”