only.”
“How often do we enforce that?”
“Not often,” Simpson said.
“But they don’t know that,”
Jesse said.
“So anything they did with the rental car would risk drawing
attention, which, obviously, they needed to avoid.”
“Or they parked it at the mall, earlier in the day,” Jesse said.
“And took cabs.”
Simpson said, “You think they’re dumb enough to take a
cab?”
“They think they are brilliant,” Jesse said. “And they think
we’re stupid.”
“So they could have.”
“Yes.”
“Paradise Taxi is the only one in town,”
Simpson
said.
“Go see them,” Jesse said.
“Now?”
“Now.”
When Suit was gone, Jesse swung his chair around and put his feet up on the sill of his back window and looked out at the fire trucks parked in front of the fire station. The phone rang. Jesse answered.
“Captain Healy,” Molly said, “on
line two.”
“Bullets match,” Healy said.
“The one they took out of Anthony?”
“Yep. And the ones that were trapped in your vest.”
“We knew they would,” Jesse said.
“How about the car rental
companies.”
“The rental companies are an air ball,”
Healy said. “We checked
in a fifty-mile radius, including Logan Airport. Nobody named Lincoln rented a car.”
“How about the ones that deliver?”
“You thought of that, too,” Healy said.
“We’re a small department,”
Jesse said. “But we try
hard.”
“There’s only two companies in the
fifty-mile radius that
deliver,” Healy said. “Neither one of them has delivered to
Paradise.”
“You get any print matches from their condo?” Jesse
said.
“Nope. They’re not in the system that we can find. You know it’s
not really their condo?”
“They rent it?”
“Yep, from a guy working a two-year consulting project in Saudi
Arabia.”
“He’ll be pleased to hear they took
off,” Jesse
said.
“Unless they paid up front.”
“Would you?” Jesse said.
“When I knew I was going to disappear? No, I don’t think I
would.”
When he was off the phone Jesse swiveled his chair, put his feet
back on the windowsill, and looked at the fire trucks again.
They had a false identity. They must have had it in place,
standing by. That’s why they had been so easy and open about their
history in Cleveland. Maybe the Cleveland identity was assumed too.
If you had time and some smarts you could prepare a full new one, driver’s license, credit cards. Or five full new ones.
Standing on the running board of one of the fire trucks, a news
photographer was taking pictures through the window. Jesse could imagine the caption. Paradise Police Chief Jesse Stone ponders
his next move. Jesse kept sitting.
If they had a long-established alternate identification,
then they must have had a long-established plan to kill people.
Maybe Paradise wasn’t the first. People like that didn’t stop very
often. If Paradise wasn’t the first place they‘ d pursued their
passion, it probably wouldn’t be the last. They were unconnected.
They didn’t need to work.
Suitcase Simpson came into the office.
“There were eleven cab fares in the last week,” Suit said, “out
of Paradise. Seven of them went to the airport. Two went to the Northeast Mall. One went to New England Baptist Hospital. One went to Wonderland Dog Track.”
“In the winter?” Jesse said.
“They run all year,” Suit said.
“In this weather it would be easier just to mail them a check,”
Jesse said.
“You California guys are wimps,” Suit said. “Hardy New
Englanders like to be there when they lose it.”
Jesse nodded.
“So they could have cabbed to the airport, picked up the rental,
drove it to the mall.”
“Or one of them could have, and the other one could have picked
him up and driven him home in the Saab.”
“They like to do things together,” Jesse said.
“So you figure they both went for the rental car, and drove it
to the mall in time for the shootout?”
“Yes.”
“What if they rented it the day before,”
Suit said, “and parked
it at the mall?”
“The car would have been parked there overnight. It might have
attracted attention. And they’d have had to take a cab to the mall
on the day of the shooting.”
“Why wouldn’t they have just driven the Saab over and left it
when they swapped cars?”
“Don’t know. Maybe they’re so
yuppied out that they couldn’t
bear to abandon the Saab.”
“Hell, Jesse, they abandoned it anyway, along with their
condo.”
“Yeah, but it was safely parked in the garage. We are not
dealing with entirely rational people here.”
“You think they’re crazy?”
“They’ve killed a bunch of people for no apparent
reason.”
“Good point,” Suit said. “Either
way we’re looking for cab rides
on the day of the shooting.”
Jesse said, “Isn’t there a subway station near the dog
track?”
“Yeah. On the Blue Line. We used to take it into Boston when I
was a kid. Buncha stops: Revere Beach, Orient Heights, the airport, Maverick Square in East Boston.”
Jesse nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “Check the cabs
to the airport and to
Wonderland on that day. Talk to the drivers. See if they can describe who they took, and where they picked them up. Get a list of names from all the rental companies at the airport, who they rented a car to that day.”
“That’s going to take some
time,” Suit said.
“It might,” Jesse said. “Or you
might score the first guy you
ask.”
“Not likely,” Suit said.
“Just as likely as last,” Jesse said.
“No,” Suit said. “It never
happens like that.”
Jesse shrugged.
When Suit was gone, Jesse looked at the fire engines some more.
So, where would they go? They were free to go anywhere. They
dearly had plenty of money. Tony’s ocular scanner made that possible. If it were true … Maybe it was … If it were
true, he’d hold a patent on it … If he held a patent on it,
they’d have it at the U.S. Patent Office … which would have a
website.
Jesse stood and opened his office door and yelled,
“Molly.”
When she came in, he said, “Are you as expert on the Internet as
you are at everything else?”
“You sound like my husband,” Molly said,
“when he wants
something.”
“I need crime fighting help,” Jesse said.
“You really don’t want to do this
yourself,” Molly said. “Do
you.”
“I need you to find the U.S. Patent Office on the Web and see
who has patented an optical scanning device.”
“Everybody?”
The Lincolns appeared to be in their late forties.
“Everybody in, oh, say, the last twenty-five years.”
“And while I’m doing that,”
Molly said, “you’ll be in here
oiling your baseball glove? Thinking of spring?”
“Hey,” Jesse said,
“I’m the chief of police.”
Molly smiled and saluted.
“Of course you are,” she said.
“I’ll see what I can
find.”
68
Jesse sat with Marcy Campbell in the Indigo Apple drinking coffee.
“Rita Fiore never called me back,” he said.
“Maybe she’s decided she won’t
waste any more time with
you.”