Death in Paradise

"Easy or hard," Kelly said. "Doesn't matter to me."

"What do you mean?" Pollinger said.

He looked at Jesse.

"What does he mean by that?"

Jesse didn't answer for a time, letting the question hang in the quiet.

"Here's what I think," Jesse said finally. "I think that the girl, who is almost certainly underage, came here to have sex with you. I assume for money."

"Could be charm," Kelly said. "He's very charming."

"I don't think he's charming," Jesse said.

Kelly shrugged. "No accounting for taste," he said.

"And," Jesse said to Pollinger, "I bet it's not the first time. And I bet if we start asking all your neighbors, and everybody where you work, if you are having paid sex with underage girls, sooner or later I bet we'll prove it."

"No," Pollinger said.

Kelly pulled a straight-backed chrome chair from the dining table and pushed it toward Pollinger.

"You wa

Pollinger sat.

"I don't want you asking around about me. I haven't done anything wrong."

"So tell us about the girl?" Jesse said.

"Maybe I should have a lawyer," Pollinger said.

"If you think you need one," Jesse said.

"No… I… if I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

"Sure," Jesse said.

"I'm a financial manager," Pollinger said. "I have fiscal responsibility. I can't…"

"Mum's the word," Kelly said.

"Her name's Dawn," Pollinger said. "I don't think she's underage."

"And I know you would care," Jesse said. "What's her last name?"

"I don't know. But I have a phone number."

"Garner's?"

"No."

Pollinger stood and went to a sideboard and took a piece of notepaper from a drawer. He handed it to Jesse. There was a phone number written on it in black ink. The hand was childish. The zero had a smiley face.

"I don't think she was supposed to give it to me," Pollinger said. "She made me promise not to tell Alan."

"Cut out the middle man," Kelly said. "Enterprising girl."

"You get other girls from Alan?" Jesse said.

Pollinger nodded. He was looking hard at the texture of his subtle gray wall-to-wall carpeting.

"They all teenyboppers?" Kelly said.

"They are young women," Pollinger said.

"I'll bet," Kelly said.

"Ever spend time in Paradise?" Jesse said.

"I've been up there. They have a nice restaurant on the town wharf."

Jesse nodded.

"Ever know a girl named Billie Bishop?" he said.

"There was a girl named Billie," Pollinger said. "Nice girl. They're not really whores."

"Of course they're not," Kelly said. "Except that they fuck for money."

Pollinger didn't look up from the carpet.

"Where were you, the begi

"July?"

"Yeah. First week, after the Fourth?"

"I was in London. We went on a theater tour."

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes. It was a package, Worldwide Theater Tours. They would have a record."

"We'll check," Kelly said.

"Why? Why does it matter?"

"Just routine inquiry," Jesse said. "You know any of Billie's other clients?"

"No."

"She never mentioned any, even in passing?"

"No. She was, we were, ah, very businesslike."

"Wham bam, thank you ma'am," Kelly said.

"No. It wasn't like that. They are very nice girls. It's just that we only talked about… each other."

"You romantic fool," Kelly said.

Chapter Forty-seven

"I ran into Mrs. Snyder at Stop & Shop," Molly said.

Jesse nodded. He was rocked back in his swivel chair drinking coffee. The air-conditioning hummed quietly.

"She told me she's getting divorced."

"Husband still beating on her?" Jesse said.

"No. That's the fu

"So?"

Molly smiled.

"She didn't quite put it this way," Molly said. "But it sounds like all those years he was punching her around, she used to think if he'd only stop we could be happy. And then he stopped. And she found out she still didn't like him."

"Can't win 'em all," Jesse said.

"She might have won this one," Molly said.

"Yeah," Jesse said. "Maybe she did."

"You have anything to do with it?"

"With what?"

"With him not hitting her anymore."

Jesse shrugged.

"You had a talk with him, didn't you," Molly said.

Jesse smiled.

"Nothing official," he said.

"And, let me guess," Molly said. "You told him if he ever touched her unkindly again you would do something really scary to him."

"I'm the chief of police in this town, Moll. I can't go around threatening the very citizens I'm sworn to protect."

"Of course you can't," Molly said. "Cop named Kelly called from Boston. Said he had an address for that phone number, if you want to go visit."

"Good."

"Suit still on surveillance in Boston?" Molly said.

"No."

"Good," Molly said. "It's been mucking up the vacation schedules."

"It has," Jesse said.

"This call from Kelly, is it about Billie?"

"I hope so."

"You getting anywhere?"

"I think so."

"We got an official suspect yet?"

"No."

"Are we pla

"It's an approach I'm experimenting with," Jesse said. "I'm going into Boston. I'll be gone most of the day. We got any police business to talk about before I go?"

"We might want to talk about how come I mostly run the department and you get the chief's salary."

"Sexism," Jesse said, "would be my guess."

Molly smiled and left the office. Jesse finished his coffee and phoned Kelly.

"It's an address in Brighton," Kelly said. "I'll meet you in front of the new Star Market in the shopping center on Western Ave."

"An hour," Jesse said.

Chapter Forty-eight

They were in Kelly's car, in front of a gray three-decker in Brighton.

"Pollinger's alibi holds up," Kelly said. "Tour company says he was in London when Billie got killed."

Jesse nodded.

"What's this kid's name?" he said.

"Phone listing is D. P. Davis."

"Dawn," Jesse said.

"Maybe."

The building had been painted brown a long time ago. Much of the paint had flaked away and a lot of bare gray clapboard was showing. There was no front yard. The first of the three front steps was hard against the sidewalk. The name Davis and the number 3 A were written with black Magic Marker above one of the doorbells. Jesse rang it. Nothing happened.

"You're a small-town cop," Kelly said. "You don't know how to do it right."

He put his thumb on the bell and kept it there. Nothing happened.

"That how it's done?" Jesse said.

"Could be no one home," Kelly said.

"Or the bell's broken."

"But the front door's unlocked," Kelly said.

"Wow," Jesse said.

"A trained professional," Kelly said.

They went into the dank hallway and up two flights of sagging stairs. The stairwell was dark. There was a burned-out lightbulb in an old porcelain ceiling fixture at each landing. At the dark top of the stairs Jesse knocked on the door.

"It's good practice," he said. "How else do I learn?"

He knocked again. There was the sound of movement. Then silence. Then the door opened on its chain.

A young female voice said, "Come back later."

The door started to shut but Jesse put his foot in the opening.

"Dawn Davis?"

"What do you want?"

"Boston Police," Kelly said.

He held up his badge.

"Police?"

"Yep."

"It's too dark," she said. "I can't see what you're holding up."

Kelly put the badge into the door opening.

"You got a light in there?" he said.