Nellie’s hair was shorter than it had been a couple days ago.
A younger version of Sunny.
Hundred percent.
The waiter came over and asked if they were ready to order. Molly told him they were going to need a few minutes.
“Say the boy did kill himself,” she said, “even though Suit doesn’t want to hear that and none of us really want to believe it. You ever think that if he wanted people to know why, he would have left a note?”
“I’d still like to know that,” Nellie said.
“So would my boss.”
“You don’t?”
“It would solve the mystery, no doubt,” Molly said. “But what does that get us?”
“Closure?”
“For us,” Molly said. “The boy already has his. I’ve actually always thought the whole notion of closure, at least for the living, is a bunch of shit.”
They sat in silence. The dining room began to fill up. The bar area was already full of people and noise. The Gull had been the most popular restaurant in Paradise for as long as Molly could remember. Spike had just made it better, and even more popular than it had been before. Maybe because he was its face, and up-front star. And the food had gotten a whole hell of a lot better on his watch.
“What I can’t figure out,” Nellie said, “is why these boys on the team, even now, are so fearful of pissing off their asshat of a coach.”
“And pissing him off royally by talking to you.”
“He called me a bitch,” Nellie said, “if I’m not mistaken.”
“Were I you,” Molly said, “I’d wear that one like a merit badge.”
They both ordered lobster rolls, with fries. The plates came out of the kitchen at warp speed. Spike brought them to the table himself, and asked if they wanted more wine.
“Nellie’s parents told her to be home by eleven,” Molly said, “or she loses her car privileges.”
“I had that coming,” Nellie said.
“Where’s the chief tonight?” Spike asked.
“He is dining in Boston tonight with Mr. Richie Burke himself,” Molly said.
“Sure he is.”
“I’m serious.”
“Care to explain how such a thing came to be?”
“No,” Molly said, “I do not.”
“I thought the policeman was supposed to be my friend,” Spike said.
“Live and learn, pal,” Molly said.
They happily ate the best lobster rolls in town, maybe the entire North Shore. Every time Molly felt an urge to ask Nellie about Jesse, she stopped herself, telling herself it was none of her business. Even knowing in her heart that Jesse’s business would always be hers as well.
“The tox screen said no drugs,” Molly said. “But none of us really expected there to be.”
“So maybe somebody pushed Jack into the water,” Nellie said.
“A good-sized kid.”
“Maybe the other guy was bigger.”
“But who would do something like that? And why?”
Molly drank wine.
“Shit,” she said.
“My sentiment exactly,” Nellie said.
“A truly shitty sentiment at this point.”
“We need to catch a break here.”
Molly had the better view of the front door, so she was the one who saw Hal Fortin come walking into the Gull before Nellie did.
“Check it out,” Molly said.
Nellie smiled. “Coach Asshat himself.”
Spike showed Fortin to a window table on the other side of the crowded room.
“My friend Sunny Randall has a saying,” Molly said.
“I think I’ve heard most of them by now, sadly enough.”
Molly said, “When all else fails, annoy someone.”
“Yup,” Nellie said. “Definitely heard that one from the chief.”
“Shall we?” Molly said.
Nellie told her to lead the way.
Forty-Four
You want to know where Roarke eats the rest of the week?” Richie said to Jesse, after they’d been lucky enough to find a parking spot on Boylston Street in front of the Capital Grille. “My father swears he has the guy’s dining-out schedule. Says Roarke is a creature of habit.”
“The way he’s tracking the guy,” Jesse said, “sounds like your old man is, too.”
“Roarke prefers the Rubbed Bone-in Rib Eye, in case you were wondering,” Richie said.
“By the way,” Jesse said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Biggest night out I’ve had in a while,” Richie said.
Roarke was having his dinner in a private room. The maître d’ was happy to share that information, more reluctant to tell them which private room. At that point Jesse badged him and told him he was here because of a murder investigation involving a policeman up in Paradise.
“And we promise not to bother the decent people,” Jesse said.
“Mr. Roarke isn’t going to be happy about this,” the maître d’, whose name tag read ellis, said.
“Yeah, if you think about it, who other than you really gives a shit?” Richie said.
Liam Roarke’s private dining area was to the left of the main dining room. As they walked in, Richie nodded at the man with white-blond hair at the head of the table. Bright blue eyes Jesse could spot from where he stood. Jesse didn’t feel the need to tell him that he would have been able to figure out who Roarke was on his own. There were two men, each seated on either side of Roarke. No food yet, just drinks. Martinis all around. One of Roarke’s guests was black, the other white. Roarke was in a blazer, red pocket handkerchief, white shirt, no tie. There was a muscle guy standing at the other end of a table much too long for just three people. The muscle guy’s suit appeared to be about two sizes too small. Or maybe he’d just grown out of it. He crossed his arms and glared at Jesse and Richie. Jesse tried to keep himself from fainting dead away.
The maître d’ leaned down and said something to Liam Roarke.
“It’s fine, Ellis,” Roarke said. “I’m sure this won’t take long.”
Then Ellis was gone. Jesse admired the fact that he’d managed to keep himself from running out of the room, maybe to a new job.
“Ellis says you want to talk to me about a murder,” Roarke said to Jesse. “You don’t happen to have some ID I could look at?”
“Don’t want to see mine?” Richie said.
“I know who you are,” Roarke said to him. “The way you know who I am, Mr. Burke.”
“Mr. Burke is my father,” Richie said. “And you know who he is, too.”
Jesse put his badge out in front of Roarke.
“You got a name, Chief?” Roarke said.
“Jesse Stone.”
Roarke smiled. “So you’re the guy from that shoot-out up in Paradise that I read about. I believe you took out one of Tony Marcus’s former employees that night.”
Jesse smiled at him. “And another angel got its wings.”
Roarke stood up then, and just seemed to keep going once he did. Six-five or — six. Giving the impression that he was looking down from a great height at his two dinner companions. “Could you just take your drinks to the bar and give us the room for a few moments?”
The two men knew it wasn’t a request, and wordlessly got up and left, almost as quickly as Ellis the maître d’ had.
Jesse and Richie made no move to sit in the empty chairs.
To Richie Roarke said, “What are you doing hanging around with a cop?”
“Been asking myself that question all night.”
Roarke sat back down and refocused his attention on Jesse. The muscle guy stayed where he was, unmoving. But staring down only Jesse now.