“You can’t seriously think that some small-town cop is as smart
as we are.”
“He didn’t say he wasn’t from
Los Angeles,” Brianna
said.
“I don’t care if he’s from
Mars,” Tony said. “People don’t
become policemen because they are great thinkers.”
“Are we great thinkers,” Brianna said.
“We’re not ordinary, Brianna. Never forget that we are not
ordinary.”
She leaned toward him and kissed him on the mouth and let the kiss linger.
“I’ll try to remember,” she said.
60
Jesse drove up Summer Street with Candace in the front seat beside him.
“I don’t even know what a vizsla
is,” she said.
“It’s a Hungarian pointer,”
Jesse said. “Sort of like a smallish weimaraner, only gold.”
“Do they bite?”
“I don’t think so,” Jesse said.
“Are you having second
thoughts?”
“No. I want him. I’m just
nervous.”
“Your parents are okay with this,” Jesse said.
“I don’t think my mother likes it too much,” Candace said. “But
my father said yes.”
“So it’s yes.”
“My mother does what Daddy says.”
“And why do you want the dog?”
“I want somebody I can love,” Candace said.
“Right answer,” Jesse said. “But
loving isn’t enough, you know.
You have to take care.”
“I know. Feed him. Walk him.” She wrinkled her nose. “Clean up
after him. I went over all this with my mother and father.”
“How is it at home?” Jesse said.
“My mother is kind of, like …
sulky.”
“And your father?”
“Daddy’s great.”
“Your mother will get over it,” Jesse said.
Like I know.
“I never saw Daddy fight with anybody before.”
“Like with the Marinos?”
“Yes. He never even gets mad, very much.”
Jesse nodded.
“You didn’t try to stop it,”
Candace said.
Jesse smiled. “He was winning,” he said.
“You wanted them to get punched up,” she said.
“I did.”
“Daddy boxed in college, you know.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever box?”
“I don’t box,” Jesse said.
“I fight.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Rules,” Jesse said. “How is it
for you at
school.”
“Sometimes Bo or Troy will, like, smirk at me when I pass one of
them. But they don’t say anything. A lot of the kids are great
about it. Some of the other boys, football players and stuff, they call me Centerfold.”
“Like Playboy
Centerfold,” Jesse said.
She nodded.
“That sucks,” Jesse said.
Candace shrugged. Jesse pulled off of Summer Street onto a narrow road that led down to Pynchon Pond.
Bob Valenti lived at the edge of Paradise in a small yellow house that backed up to the pond. The house was right next to the street, and the modest backyard had been enclosed with a wire fence. Jesse pulled his car up in front of the house. He parked without shutting off the engine, so he could leave the heater running.
“There’s Goldie,” Jesse said.
The vizsla was sitting in the back corner of the yard, motionless, looking through the fence. He saw the car and followed it with his eyes as it parked. He didn’t bark.
“Omigod,” Candace said. “The
poor thing.”
“Things will be better for him,” Jesse said.
“Yes,” Candace said. “I will
really take care of
him.”
“Remember,” Jesse said.
“He’s lost one owner, and is now
relocating again.”
“I never had a dog before,” Candace said.
“Your father said he did.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll be nervous for a while,”
Jesse said.
“But if I love him …”
“He’ll get over it,” Jesse said.
“I hope my mother isn’t mean to
him.”
“That would be a bad thing,” Jesse said.
“Can you talk to your
father about that?”
Candace nodded.
“Daddy says she won’t be mean.”
“Your mother probably loves you,” Jesse said.
“Of course she does.”
“Then we should be able to bring her around if we have to,”
Jesse said.
“Can I change his name? I hate Goldie for a name.”
“Sure, just go slow. Wait until he’s used to
you.”
“I have to think of a new name anyway.”
“You might ask your mother to help you think of a new name,”
Jesse said.
“So she’d feel like he was hers
too?”
“Something like that,” Jesse said.
They were still for a minute. The heater still on, the motor still running, Candace looking through the car window at the motionless dog.
“It’ll be all right?” she said.
“It will,” Jesse said. “But you
have to give it
time.”
They sat silently for another moment.
Then Candace said, “Can we get him now?”
“Sure.”
They got out of the car and walked through the old unlovely snow
toward Valenti’s front door. The dog watched them for a moment, and
then stood and came down the fence line toward them.
61
Parking on Beacon Hill was impossible in mid summer. In winter,
with plowed snow choking the narrow streets, it had become unthinkable. Jesse finally settled for a hydrant on Beacon Street down from the State House, and walked in along Spruce Street, carrying a flowered bottle of Perrier-Jouet.
Rita lived at the Mt. Vernon Street end of Louisburg Square in a
high narrow brick townhouse with a dark green door and gold-tipped wrought-iron fencing across the tiny front yard. Jesse rang the bell, and in a moment Rita opened the door.
“Criminal law pays good,” Jesse said as he stepped into the dark
red foyer.
“Better than working for the Norfolk County DA, which is what I
used to do,” Rita said.
They went into her living room. There was a fireplace with a fire going. The room was done in a strong yellow with gold drapes striped with dark red. Rita was all in ivory: pants and blouse, and three-inch ivory heels.
“I don’t know which is more
impressive,” Jesse said. “You or the house.”
“Me,” Rita said and took the champagne bottle from
him.
“Will you join me in some of this?” she said.
“No. I’ll have some club soda, with
cranberry juice if you have
it.”
“I noticed,” Rita said. “I also
have orange
juice.”
“I’ll start with the cranberry and
soda,” Jesse said. “If the
evening gets really rousing, I’ll step up to the OJ.”
“I expect it to get rousing,” Rita said.
She made Jesse’s drink and poured herself some champagne.
“How is my disgusting client doing at his community service?”
she said.
“He’s there every afternoon after
school,” Jesse said. “He and
Drake treat Feeney like the fink-out that he is, but they’re too
scared to do anything about it.”
“So what are they doing?”
“Make-work mostly. Wash the floors, clean the toilets, polish
doorknobs. Molly finds stuff for them.”
“They probably ought to get more punishment than that for
gang-raping a young girl.”
“They had good legal counsel,” Jesse said.
Rita smiled.
“You know the argument as well as I do. In order for the justice
system to work, every one has the right to the best legal representation they can get.”
Jesse nodded.
“Doesn’t mean I liked any of
them.”
“I don’t either,” Jesse said.
“How’s the girl doing?”
Jesse shrugged.