"Could be better, but not so bad," Ognowski said. "At least there is blood for blood."
"Even if it's the wrong blood?" Jesse said.
"I can always return," Ognowski said.
"Next time would be harder," Jesse said.
"Might be," Ognowski said. "Does not mean it wouldn't happen."
"It might make more sense to give it a little time. Maybe between us we can come up with something."
"What?"
"No idea," Jesse said. "But the two of us ought to be able to come up with something."
Ognowski looked at Jesse for a time in silence.
"Give it a little while," Jesse said.
Ognowski kept looking at Jesse. Finally he stood and walked out of the office without saying anything else.
45
SHE HAD WATCHED him for two weeks, and almost every night he came here, to the Gray Gull, and sat at the bar. He drank bourbon on the rocks, and often left with a woman. Never the same woman. He was a big man and handsome. He had big muscles and, she noticed, he always wore short-sleeved shirts that displayed them. She sipped her vodka and tonic. It was a Friday night and the bar was crowded. But she had time. And she was patient. She waited, and finally when a seat opened at the bar next to him she went down the bar and took it. He glanced at her and then swung around on his bar stool to face her.
"I haven't seen you before," he said.
"I come sometimes," she said.
"By yourself?" he said.
"Yes."
"Can I buy you a drink?" he said.
"Yes," she said.
"Vodka tonic?" he said.
"Yes."
He gestured to one of the bartenders and ordered.
"You from around here?" he said.
"No."
"Where you from?"
"Brooklyn," she said.
"Brooklyn, huh?"
"Yes."
"Jesus," he said. "You don't talk much."
She smiled.
"Many men like that," she said.
He nodded.
"Okay," he said. "How come you're up here from Brooklyn?"
"My husband had work here."
"Husband?"
"Yes. No more."
"You're not married anymore?"
"No," she said.
The drinks came. He stirred the ice around in his drink with his forefinger before he picked it up.
"Looking for a new husband?" he said.
"No," she said.
"What are you looking for?" he said.
"I like men," she said.
He grinned and raised his glass to her.
"I'm one," he said.
"Yes," she said, and looked at him. "Big muscles."
He nodded.
"I try to stay in shape," he said.
"You work?"
"Sure," he said. "Whaddya think? I do private security for a guy lives on the Neck."
"You violent?" she said.
"Let's just say I don't look for trouble," he said. "But if someone else is looking for trouble, I'm happy to supply it."
She nodded.
"That excites me," she said.
"It does, huh?" he said. "Wanna go someplace, see what else we can think of that's exciting?"
"I have a place," she said.
"Excellent," he said.
"I will go into the ladies' room for a moment," she said. "Then we go to my place."
"You bet," he said. "What's your name?"
"Natalya," she said. "You?"
"Normie."
46
THE SECURITY at the gate of the late Knocko Moynihan was just like the security at Reggie Galen's gate. But Jesse had called in advance, and the guard waved him through.
Robbie Moynihan opened the door, wearing black slingback heels and a short black linen sundress.
"Chief Stone," she said.
"Mrs. Moynihan," Jesse said.
"Oh, fah!" she said. "I've told you and told you, call me Robbie."
"Sure," Jesse said.
He followed her toward the living room.
"Say it," Robbie said.
"Robbie," Jesse said.
"Very good," she said.
She gestured for him to sit in a chair.
"Sit," she said.
"Can you say Jesse?" he said.
She smiled.
"Sit, Jesse," she said. "Jesse, Jesse, Jesse!"
"Okay, Robbie, I guess we are pals."
"Absolutely," she said. "Would you like coffee? Or a drink?"
"Late for coffee," Jesse said. "Early for a drink."
"And you're on duty," Robbie said.
"Technically, I'm always on duty," Jesse said. "But in fact I'm here to see how you are."
"Not official business?" Robbie said.
"No."
"Well, then, you should be able to have a drink," she said.
"I'm going to have some champagne, and I'll be offended if you don't at least have a little glass."
Jesse was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "Thank you, I'll have a glass."
"Good," she said. "Champagne is fun."
She went out and came back soon carrying two champagne flutes and an ice bucket with a bottle of Krug in it.
"I think opening champagne bottles is man's work," she said.
"I do, too," Jesse said.
Jesse opened the bottle, poured some into her glass and some into his. He raised his glass to her.
"Here's to better times," he said.
She smiled and raised her glass.
"Yes," she said. "You're very sweet to stop in. I admit I was feeling kind of blue."
"You have every reason," Jesse said.
He took a small sip. At least it was champagne. He found champagne easier to resist than other things.
"It's been hard," she said. "But my sister is here."
She drank the rest of her champagne and held her glass out. Jesse carefully filled it. Then she raised her glass to Jesse.
"Here's to you," she said. "And to catching the guy who did it."
She drank. Jesse took another restrained sip.
"It's slow going," he said.
"Do you have any leads?" she said.
"This and that," Jesse said. "Nothing very solid. We're assuming that the two murders are connected."
"Two? Oh, of course, poor Petey."
"You liked him?" Jesse said.
"Oh, yes. We both loved Petey."
"You and your sister."
She held out her glass, and Jesse filled it. The bottle was nearly empty. The flutes didn't hold very much, but she wasn't malingering.
"Yes," she said.
"You haven't heard from Ray Mulligan, have you?"
She leaned forward toward him with her forearms resting on her thighs, holding the flute in both hands.
"Jesse," she said. "Are you questioning me?"
"I don't mean to," Jesse said. "I guess I've been a cop too long."
She nodded and smiled. Her eyes were shiny.
"Plus, you are the chief of police," she said.
"That makes it worse," Jesse said.
"We believe in you, Jesse," she said. "We believe we can depend on you."
"Thank you," Jesse said.
They were quiet for a moment. Jesse could feel a subliminal sexual charge begin to seep into the room. He didn't know how he knew it. But he knew it. He'd felt it before, and he'd never been wrong. Jesse also noticed that she had not answered his question about Ray Mulligan.
She remained leaning forward, looking at him.
After a while, she said, "Do you like sex, Jesse?"
"Yes."
"Do the women you know like sex?"
"I think so," Jesse said.
She smiled.
"Do you approve of women who like sex?"
"Yes, I do," Jesse said.
The subliminal sexual charge was now nearly stifling. She picked up the champagne bottle and poured the little that remained into Jesse's glass, which was still more full than empty.
"Have you ever had sex with more than one woman, Jesse?" she said.