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I'm glad I brought my little suitcase. XXOO

S

As she drove back toward Boston, she thought about Jesse. She liked having sex with him. What was not to like… as a sex partner. As a life partner? There was the drinking problem and the ex-wife. Sunny wasn't sure that he had actually rid himself of Jenn and the way he felt about Jenn.

She gave a small humorless laugh.

Like I'm rid of Richie. What kind of prospect am I for Jesse? I don't have a drinking problem, but I very well may be more addicted to my ex than he has been to his. Are we both settling for second best? Dr. Silverman had said once that she was using other men as an anodyne. Were she and Jesse doing that, killing their pain with each other?… Worse ways, I suppose.

32

CHARLIE TRAXAL," Rita Fiore said, "Jesse Stone."

Jesse shook hands with Traxal.

"Charlie's the chief investigator for the Norfolk County DA," Rita said. "Jesse's the chief of police in Paradise."

"Any friend of Rita's," Traxal said.

"Covers a lot of ground," Rita said.

They were having lunch at Locke-Ober.

"Rita tells me you used to be in L.A.," Traxal said to Jesse.

"Robbery homicide," Jesse said.

"So you done some street work," Traxal said.

"Yep."

"Charlie often worked with me when I was a prosecutor down there," Rita said. "He knows more about crime south of Boston than anyone I've ever met."

"Rita knew a lot herself," Traxal said. "Until she went upscale to the big, fancy law firm."

"Which is paying for your lunch," Rita said.

"Thing I like best about big, fancy law firms," Traxal said. "I think I'll have the Lobster Savannah."

"Jesse is looking for South Shore crime gossip," Rita said.

Traxal looked at Jesse.

"You've come to the right place," he said. "Whaddya need?"

"Neal Bangston," Jesse said. "Knocko Moynihan, Reggie Galen."

Traxal leaned back and drank some of his iced tea. He was a sturdy-looking man, with gray hair and horn-rimmed glasses.

"I never got the bastard," he said.

"Which one?" Jesse said.

"Any of them, but I wanted Bangston most."

"Why?"

"Because we never caught him. Moynihan and Galen both did time, but Bangston." Traxal shook his head. "Lord Bangston of Hempstead."

"Dirty?"

"Absolutely," Traxal said.

"Couldn't prove it?"

"Never."

"He connected to Knocko and Reggie?" Jesse said.

"Yes."

"Tell me about it," Jesse said.

"You want stuff I can prove?" Traxal said.

"Tell me what you know," Jesse said.

"Bangston was a construction guy," Traxal said. "Knocko used to work for him once, bricklayer. Knocko was a tough guy. Used to box, strong as hell. Had a reputation, you know? And when there was trouble with somebody who didn't like the work Bangston was doing or the wages he was paying, he took to sending Knocko around to discuss it. And the bigger Bangston Construction got, the more there was to discuss."

"Like?"

"Construction not up to code, nonunion labor, pay below minimum, illegal immigrants, lot of overcharges."

"So," Jesse said, "Knocko became more and more important."

"And so did Bangston," Traxal said. "Big man in Hempstead. Big man in the Church, had a big charity event every year on his lawn. Married some rich Catholic broad from an important family. Moved up in the world."

Rita sat quietly, listening to them talk. Nearly everyone who came into the restaurant, Jesse noticed, looked at her.

"Meanwhile, Knocko started freelancing and got himself busted for extortion," Traxal said. "Three years in Garrison."

"Where he meets Reggie Galen," Jesse said.

"Soul mates," Traxal said.

He looked at Rita.

"You miss all this stuff, babe?" Traxal said.

"Everything but the thirty-thousand-dollar salary," she said.

"Anyway, after both of them get out of jail, Bangston is trying to expand on the North Shore, and he's having some trouble with Reggie Galen, who's charging Bangston a security fee for everything that he does up there. So Bangston gets hold of Knocko and tells him the problem, and Knocko says, 'I know the guy,' and pretty soon they're all thick as thieves."

"Lemme guess," Jesse said. "Reggie's the North Shore Knocko."

"And everyone's making money."

"You know Bangston's twin daughters married his two thugs?" Jesse said.

Traxal nodded. Rita whistled softly.

"Yeah," he said. "I don't think Bangston liked that much, but by now it's not clear if Knocko and Reggie work for Bangston or he works for them."

"You been accumulating evidence for a long time," Jesse said.

"Looked at a lot of paper," Traxal said. "Talked to a lot of people."

"None of whom will talk on the record."

"Nope."

"Without which the paper's no good."

"Nope."

"Careful guys," Jesse said.

"And smart," Traxal said. "You're interested because of Knocko getting aced in your town."

"Yep."

"Pretty thorough guy," Traxal said.

"I am," Jesse said. "Guy worked for Reggie Galen got whacked, too."

"Connected?"

"Seems likely," Jesse said.

"Two thugs?" Rita said. "In the same month? In a town like Paradise? I'd say it seems very likely."

"Sure," Traxal said. "What did this guy do for Reggie?"

"Slugger," Jesse said.

"Suspects?"

"Not really."

"Think one of the Bangston girls might have been involved?" Traxal said.

"Don't know," Jesse said.

"You asked about them."

"I ask about everything," Jesse said. "You know anything about their reputation?"

Traxal smiled.

"The Bang Bang Twins?" he said.

"I guess you do," Jesse said.

"But I don't," Rita said. "And I want to hear about it. The Bang Bang Twins?"

They told her. When they were through, Rita sat quietly for a moment.

Then she said, "I wish I had a twin."

33

HARRY LYLE WAS a tall, portly man with receding hair and a good tan. He wore a blue pin-striped double-breasted suit and a white shirt with a white silk tie. He watched closely as Sunny sat down and crossed her legs.

Good sign, Sunny thought.

"How can I help you, Ms. Painter," he said.

"Mrs. Painter," Sunny said. "Mrs. Elwood Painter."

Lyle nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Mrs. Painter, how may I help?"

"I… It's my son."

He nodded kindly.

"What about your son?" he said.

"He's left home."

"Oh?"

"He's joined a cult," Sunny said. "I want him out of it."

"Kids, huh?" Lyle said. "How old is he?"

"Eighteen."

"Okay."

"He's not old enough to be on his own with a bunch of Bible-thumpers," Sunny said.

"I'm sure you're right," Lyle said.

"Can you help me?" Sunny said. "Can we get a court order or something?"

"Might take some doing, at his age," Lyle said. "How did you happen to come to me?"

"A friend," Sunny said. "Of a friend."

"They have names?"

Sunny shook her head.

"They told me that you had experience with adolescent rebellion, and they made me promise not to tell anyone they'd told me." Sunny smiled and leaned forward and lowered her voice a little. "I think they don't want anyone to know that they had problems with their children."