“Because my dad wouldn’t let her talk to me, I am going to be questioned by Jesse Stone tonight at the station. My dad got me a lawyer and told me everything would be all right, but—”
She changed her approach to the girl. She was stroking her hair. “I’m sorry, Petra. I was just so frightened that it would spoil things between us if people saw us together. It’s okay, I understand now.”
“No matter what my dad says, I’m going to tell Jesse about the drugs. I can’t take this anymore, all the lying and stealing and stuff. But I swear I won’t say anything about us. I promise. I could never hurt you.”
It was all she could do not to slap the girl and once again show her the photo of Chris Grimm’s battered and lifeless body, but she couldn’t afford to have Petra lose it completely.
“You can never tell anyone about me,” she said before kissing the girl hard on the mouth. “You must never, never say you sold drugs to anyone. Never. They won’t forgive that.” She kissed her again and brushed her hand across the girl’s breasts. “Tonight, no matter what your father and the lawyer tell you, don’t say anything. Later on, you can admit to doing drugs, but please, for me, lover, not tonight. I need tonight to make sure we are both clear of this stuff.” She kissed her again. “Promise me.”
“I promise. I could never hurt you. I would rather die than hurt you.”
“Shhh, lover. Now get back to class.”
Arakel’s phone rang again, and he was even less pleased when he heard the woman’s voice.
“What now? I thought we had agreed you could handle the little girl.”
“It’s the local police, they are going to formally interview the girl tonight. She won’t say anything, but I don’t know how long that will last.”
“We can have the men in the white van visit her. You have spoken with them, yes?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“They have seen to the boy. They will see to the girl.”
“No, don’t you touch her! She disappears or gets hurt, all hell will break loose.”
Arakel, fortified with more alcohol, said, “Or we can see to you. I think the men in the van would prefer that. One way or the other, this must be handled.”
“Give me a few days,” she said, “please.”
“Handle it.”
The click on the other end told her it wasn’t up for debate. The image of Chris Grimm’s body flashed before her eyes. She didn’t actually care much for Petra as a lover and she was such a child, but she could never let those animals touch her. She would have to see to the girl herself, and she had an idea of how to do it.
Arakel knocked on Mehdi’s door and entered his office.
“We have a problem in Paradise.”
Mehdi laughed. “Yes, what a ridiculous name.”
“It is quite a lovely place,” Arakel said, feeling a pang of regret for what he had brought to the town.
“It tempts the fate to call a place on this earth Paradise.”
Now it was Arakel who laughed. “I fear neither one of us will ever see true Paradise.”
“Yes, let us concern ourselves with base, temporal things. You were saying.”
“The teacher has called and the police are going to question the girl. She was warned to handle it or I said that I would have to have our men handle it. She will see to it. Also, the Paradise police chief showed up outside the clinic. We put him off for today, but he is a stubborn one and will return.”
“Yes, Stojan called and reported to me. This policeman, he may be the bigger problem than the woman and the girl. We might have to see to him.” When Arakel got to the door, Mehdi called after him. “But you must make certain that when one leak is closed that the other does not once again come open. All leaks will have to be sealed or what is the point? Do you understand my meaning?”
Arakel understood it, all right. He nodded at Mehdi and left. He understood that the woman and the girl would have to die and that he would be even farther away from paradise than the day he shot the boy to death.
Sixty-two
A gaunt white woman in green scrubs and running shoes opened the door.
“How may I help you?” she asked, an impatient look on her face.
“Is Dr. Wexler available?”
“Who’s asking?”
Jesse was quick on the uptake. There were times when talk was best, but there were times when showing a shield helped cut through all the bullshit. This was one of those times. He flashed his shield in the woman’s face and quickly put it away.
“Let me ask you this again,” he said, giving her his best fish-eyed stare. “Is the doctor available?”
She twisted up her lips and shrugged, said, “He’s inside the house, Detective, but he’s not here.”
Jesse wasn’t in the mood. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for games?”
“Alzheimer’s,” she said. “Come have a look for yourself.”
Jesse followed the nurse into the house. The place had that peculiar odor that wasn’t quite home and wasn’t quite hospital but a little bit of both. It was the scent of pine, ammonia, and human decay mixed up with cooking smells like fried onions, burnt coffee, and eggs.
“He’s in there,” the nurse said, pointing at a door near the kitchen. “The stairs are blocked off. He’s taken a few falls when he gets confused and wanders. He’s safer this way.”
Jesse asked, “What’s your name?”
“Millie.”
She was testing Jesse’s patience. “Millie what?”
“Millie Lutz. I’m an RN and the family pays me and a few other nurses to watch the doctor.”
“If his Alzheimer’s is that bad, shouldn’t he be in assisted living?”
“Above my paygrade, Detective.”
Jesse walked into the room off the kitchen. Sitting in a brown leather recliner was a hunched, bald-headed man with a freckled scalp. He was dressed in expensive blue pajamas and slippers. He was staring out the window and didn’t seem to notice Jesse had come into the room. Next to the recliner was a hospital bed. In front of the bed was a wide-screen TV on a stand. Jesse moved around by the window so that the doctor could not help but notice there was someone standing there. Only he didn’t seem to notice. Dr. Wexler wore an expression that Jesse had seen many times before on the faces of those suffering from severe dementia. It was what he thought of as a sad, confused smile. Jesse could only imagine what could produce such an expression and had no desire to ever find out. As he had once confided to Molly, he preferred cancer to Alzheimer’s.
“Dr. Wexler,” he said.
The old man blinked, but that was his only concession to Jesse’s presence. The nurse had been correct. The doctor was in the house, but he wasn’t home. Jesse put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why he did it. This time, Wexler turned his head and looked up at Jesse. Unfortunately, his expression was unchanged. Jesse stayed with him a few moments and then left.
“I told you,” Nurse Lutz said when Jesse stepped out of the room.
“Do you know if Dr. Wexler’s medical license is still active?”
She blew air through her lips and made a sarcastic face. “As if it mattered.”
Jesse thought about giving her a hard time about her attitude, but he thanked her for her time instead.
“There a bathroom I can use?” he asked.
“Sure. Down the hall, past his study, on the right.”
Jesse wasn’t really interested in the bathroom. He was curious to have a quick look around. When he walked by the study, he noticed prescription pads on the desk. When he passed the study again on his way back from the bathroom, the pads were gone. But again, this wasn’t his jurisdiction, and all he had at the moment were suppositions. They were strong ones, but knowing something in your guts didn’t stand up in court. On the way out, he stopped to deliver a message to Nurse Lutz.