Death in Paradise

"I'm not sure. But I didn't. Almost always before when I felt that way, I did."

"One robin doesn't mean it's spring," Je

"I think you got the quote wrong," Jesse said.

"You know what I mean."

"Day at a time," Jesse said.

"Easy does it," Je

They both laughed.

"Friend of Bill's?" Je

Below the bridge on the lagoon three ducks with brown feathers slid along the water.

"Friend of Je

Chapter Fifty-four

Felicia Feinman Shaw had remarried. Her current name was Felicia Teitler and she agreed to have tea with Jesse at the Four Seasons Hotel. Jesse wore a coat and tie, his gun well back on his hip so it wouldn't show if he unbuttoned his jacket. The hostess escorted Jesse to the table. Felicia Teitler was already there.

"I'm Jesse Stone, Mrs. Teitler."

"Please, sit down," she said.

Jesse sat.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk," Jesse said.

"Actually I was rather curious," she said, "to see what aberration he's guilty of this time."

The language was elegant, but the accent wasn't. Money can buy the language, Jesse thought, but the accent is harder.

"He being Norman Shaw?" Jesse said.

"Of course," she said. "What other aberrant jerk would we be here to discuss?"

"Tell me about some of his aberrations," Jesse said.

Mrs. Teitler was looking at her menu. The waitress hovered.

"I'm going to have the full tea," she said.

The waitress looked at Jesse.

Jesse said, "I'll have that, too."

He wasn't entirely sure what a full tea was. Mrs. Teitler put the menu down and smiled at him. She looked to be about fifty. She was very well made up, but small lines showed around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Her hair was too blond. Her skin was too tan. But what Jesse could see of her body still looked good. Her teeth were very white. Her beige suit fit her well. On her left hand she wore an enormous diamond ring. She had a small pony of what appeared to be sherry.

"And what kind of tea for you, sir?" the waitress said.

"Are you allowed to have coffee?"

"Of course, sir."

"I'll have some," Jesse said.

Mrs. Teitler took a little sherry.

"So what did you wish to know about Norman Shaw?" she said.

"Whatever you can tell me," Jesse said. "We're just doing background."

"He's done something," Mrs. Teitler said. "You wouldn't track me down and arrange to meet me, just for background."

"You were his third wife," Jesse said.

"Yes."

The waitress brought Jesse a small silver pot of coffee. She poured some in his cup.

"Why did you divorce him?"

"Maybe he divorced me," she said.

Jesse shook his head.

"We checked," he said. "You brought suit against him."

"Well, aren't you thorough."

"And got a dandy settlement," Jesse said.

"I earned it," she said.

"The basis for the divorce was adultery," Jesse said.

"Whores."

"Only?"

"He marries the good girls," Mrs. Teitler said, "but whores were his passion. My therapist said probably it was about ownership."

"The more he paid for them," Jesse said, "the more valuable they were?"

"I think he liked them young, too."

"Younger than you?"

"Apparently."

Jesse smiled.

"Do you know any of the whores?" he said.

She shook her head. The waitress brought small sandwiches and assorted pastries and set them out. Tea was a bigger deal than Jesse had realized. He took a cucumber sandwich. Mrs. Teitler carefully put strawberry jam on a small scone and added a dollop of clotted cream.

"I preferred not to meet them," she said. "My attorney employed a private detective and he got affidavits from four of them that Norman had paid them for sex."

She popped the little scone into her mouth and chewed. Jesse poured himself some more coffee.

"There were pictures, too," Mrs. Teitler said. "Norman agreed not to contest the divorce."

"Did you see the pictures?"

"I preferred not to," she said.

"I'm sorry," Jesse said. "This is, ah, indelicate but I need to ask. How was he at home, sexually?"

"Christ!" Mrs. Teitler said. "A cop who says 'indelicate.' In bed Norman was, oh, adequate."

"Any dysfunction?"

"You mean like he couldn't get it up?"

"Or odd sexual practices?"

Mrs. Teitler laughed. "Sometimes I think they're all odd," she said. "But no. He was not a maiden's dream, but he was, ah, sufficient… when he was sober."

Jesse nodded.

"Which was often?"

"Less so as time went on," Mrs. Teitler said. "You get any kicks out of asking these questions?"

"Depends on the answers," Jesse said. "Can you give me the name of the private detective you hired?"

"My attorney hired him. Mark Hillenbrand on State Street. Hillenbrand and Doherty."

Jesse wrote it down in his little notebook. He smiled at her.

"How's the second marriage?" he said.

She shook her head.

"Two-time loser," she said. "You like older women?"

"Sure."

"Don't tell," she said. "Don't swell. Grateful as hell."

"I've heard that," Jesse said.

Chapter Fifty-five

Dick Pettler had an office over a sandwich shop on Broad Street, across the street from a Japanese restaurant. The sign on his office door read R. J. PETTLER, INQUIRIES. Jesse went in.

Pettler was tall and bony with rimless glasses.

"Mark Hillenbrand called me," Pettler said. "Told me you'd be coming by."

"You did the snoop work on Norman Shaw's divorce from Felicia Feinman," Jesse said.

Pettler smiled, his teeth gleaming.

"I like to call it discreet inquiry," he said.

"But you did it?"

"Sure."

"You got affidavits from several hookers," Jesse said.

"I could have gotten them from a hundred," Pettler said.

"How old were they?"

Pettler rocked back in his swivel chair and looked thoughtfully at Jesse.

"Pretty good question," he said.

Jesse nodded.

"They were babies," Pettler said. "I can't guarantee how old, but they all looked about thirteen."

"He have an MO?" Jesse said.

"Sure. He'd meet them in a motel, sometimes four, five nights a week. Couple times he had more than one in the same night."

"Same motel?"

"Usually."

"Boundary Suites," Jesse said.

"Hey," Pettler said, "pretty good. Yeah. Boundary Suites right there in your neighborhood."

"He take them there?"

Pettler shook his head.

"Nope. When he got there, with me behind him, he'd go straight to the motel room. You know Boundary Suites?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you know it's a lovers' hideaway," Pettler said. "Drive up to the door of the room. Go right in. No lobby to go through. Nobody to see you."

"You know how he set it up?" Jesse said.

"Nope. I assume by phone."

"You know who supplied them?"

"Nope. Not my job."

"The girls always very young?" Jesse said.

"Everyone I saw."

"If I needed you in court, could you prove what you're saying?"

"Sure. I got photos. You want to see?"

Pettler got up and went to the gray metal file cabinet to the left of his window. He took out a folder and brought it back and put it on the front of his desk where Jesse could look through it. There were pictures of a clearly recognizable Norman Shaw and different very young women, in sexually explicit action in a motel room. Shaw looked better than he did now. His belly seemed flat and he had more hair.

"Through the window?" Jesse said.

"Yeah. There's a little hill behind the room. I'd go around there with a telephoto. He never shut the lights off."

"Or pulled the curtains."