Death in Paradise

Jesse put the gun back in its holster.

"Okay," he said. "Did you hear him say anything else?"

"No. I run out as soon as I saw the gun and he went past me."

"Who was in the store besides you?"

"Mario, from the meat counter… Ray the vegetable guy… some customers… Bethany, the other cashier, was on break."

"How many customers?"

"I don't know."

"Ten?"

"No. Not that many."

"Five?"

"Maybe. Can you call her and see if she got my mother and father?"

"They'll be here," Jesse said.

Peter Perkins and John Maguire had arrived.

"Murphy and Friedman are around back with Suit and Buddy," Perkins said. "Molly says she can't raise Martin yet."

"Okay. Put on the vests and start clearing people out of the adjacent stores. John, take Kate across the street and stay with her."

Jesse got out of the car. As she walked across the street with Maguire, Kate looked back once at Jesse. He smiled at her.

"They'll be here," he said.

DeAngelo came over with a balding red-faced man who seemed out of breath.

"This is Mr. Stevens," DeAngelo said. "Store manager."

"Jesse Stone. How many ways out of the store?"

"Three."

"Where?"

"Back door. Front door. And loading door in the cellar."

"Where's the cellar door open?" Jesse said.

"In the back, right near the back entrance but lower."

"Any private rooms in there?"

"My office, which is up some stairs beside the service counter."

"Bathroom?"

"Yes, behind the stairs to my office."

"Everything else is market space?"

"Yes."

"Any co

"No."

"Is there a phone near the service booth?"

"Yes, sir. Inside the counter."

Jesse handed him a cell phone.

"Dial the number," Jesse said.

Stevens did, and handed the phone to Jesse. Jesse waited. It rang without result. Jesse counted ten rings, then broke the co

"There a window in the bathroom?" Jesse said.

"Yes," Stevens said. "Frosted glass."

"How about in your office?"

"Yes. But it's on the second floor, remember."

A crowd had gathered across the street.

"Peter," Jesse said. "Get those people out of the line of fire."

Perkins nodded and started across the street. The air was still. The high summer sound of an insect lingered above him. It was a sound he'd heard all his life. He never knew what made it, exactly. Crickets? Grasshoppers? He dialed the store again. Again he let it ring ten times and broke the co

A woman in a flowered yellow dress opened the front door of the market and stepped out and ran. She ducked behind DeAngelo's cruiser and fell to her knees.

"He wants to talk to Stone," she said. "He says he wants Stone to come in."

She was having trouble getting enough air in.

"He said he was going to kill us all," she said. "He's drunk. He has a bottle and he keeps drinking."

Jesse crouched beside her.

"Where is he?" Jesse said.

"He put the gun right in my face," the woman said.

She was blond, with a lot of dark eye makeup.

"Where is he standing?" Jesse said.

"In the back. He said he was going to kill everybody, himself too."

"Where are the other hostages?"

"With him. Sitting on the floor except for one woman he hangs on to. I think it's his wife."

"Where on the floor?"

"I don't know, just on the floor."

"No. You do know. If I'm facing him, where are the hostages? To my right or my left?"

The woman thought for a moment.

"Right," she said.

"How far?"

"They're all sitting against the wall under the service counter, except the wife."

Stevens was crouched behind the squad car beside them.

"Service counter is in the right rear corner of the store," Stevens said.

Jesse nodded.

"Tell me about the hostages," Jesse said to the woman in the yellow dress. "How many men? How many women?"

"Two men," she said and paused, her breath still rasping, counting in her head. "Four women, five if you count the wife."

Jesse stood.

"Okay," he said to no one in particular.

He walked to his car, and standing behind it, out of sight of the store, he rearranged his revolver on his belt. Then he got a long-barreled.22 target pistol out of the car, made sure there were bullets in the cylinder, and stuck it in his belt at the small of his back, under his jacket. Then he walked back to DeAngelo.

"I'm going in. Call Suit and tell him I'm going in. I want you all to hold still. If you hear a shot then I want all of you to come, front and back… double time."

DeAngelo nodded and undipped the microphone from his epaulet. Jesse turned and walked toward the market.

Chapter Fifty-eight

It was a small market, the kind that delivers phone orders. There were four aisles. Jesse could see the edge of the back door at the left corner. A sign that said CUSTOMER SERVICE hung from the ceiling in the right back corner. An arrow pointed straight down. The two-counter checkout was to the right of the door. The store was dead quiet.

"Snyder," Jesse said.

"Stop right there."

"I'm stopped," Jesse said.

Snyder appeared at the end of the cereal aisle. His wife was in front of him. In his right hand he held what looked like a nine-millimeter handgun. Semiautomatic, maybe a Colt. At least seven rounds, maybe twice that. Not cocked. The gun was pressed to his wife's neck. In his other hand he had an open bottle of Chivas Regal.

"Take off your coat," Snyder said. "I wa

Mrs. Snyder's face was chalk white with deep lines. Her body was rigid. Her eyes were bulging.

"Sure I've got a gun," Jesse said. "I'm a cop."

He slid the blue linen jacket off and let it fall to the floor. His short-barreled.38 was on his left side, butt forward.

"Take it out and throw it on the floor," Snyder said. "Way over."

Jesse tossed the.38 on the floor near the bread rack. Then he waited.

Snyder took a pull on the Chivas Regal.

"My life ain't worth shit to me," Snyder said.

Jesse nodded.

"I got nothing to lose," he said.

Jesse waited. Snyder was being dramatic, but self-dramatization was what this kind of situation was often about.

"So don't fuck with me," Snyder said.

"That what you wanted to tell me?" Jesse said.

"I wanted to tell you that you fucked my life. I wanted to tell you I was married and we was happy until you."

"Un-huh."

"I wanted to fucking tell you that I'm going to kill her and then you and then maybe everybody else in this fucking store," Snyder said.

"Un-huh."

Snyder began to cry.

"I fucking loved her all my fucking life. Now she goes, I got fucking nothing."

Mrs. Snyder's voice was barely a squeak.

"I won't go," she said.

"Shut up. You already went, bitch."

"You need help with this," Jesse said. "We can get you some help."

"Help," Snyder said. "Fucking help. I'm her and she's me and you broke us up, you lousy fuck. You think you can get me help when my fucking life is completely fucking fucked?"

"It's not fucked yet," Jesse said. "Don't do something that will permanently fuck it."

"I got no life without her," Snyder said. "She ain't leaving me. And I ain't leaving her. Ya u