Death in Paradise

He drank too big a drink from the bottle, and spilled some on his shirtfront. He was crying.

"We can help you with the booze," Jesse said. "We can still fix this."

"Fix fuck," Snyder said. "All I got now is booze."

He took another drink. Then he dropped the bottle and put his left arm around his wife's neck. He waved the handgun at Jesse.

"I'm going to shoot her," he said.

Snyder started to thumb back the hammer. Only his face showed over his wife's shoulder. Jesse took the long-barreled.22 from the small of his back, leaned toward Snyder as he pulled it, and with his gun arm fully extended and steady, shot Snyder once through the middle of the forehead. It made a small, neat, dark hole. Mrs. Snyder stood still and screamed, as Snyder's arm went limp and slid off her neck and he fell over and lay still.

Chapter Fifty-nine

Jesse sat on his deck alone in the early evening. Still light. On the table next to him was a fifth of Dewar's and a bucket of ice and a big bottle of club soda. He held an unused glass in his hand, turning it slowly as he sat. The salt wind came tentatively off the harbor. There were cocktails being drunk on a couple of the cabin cruisers moored near the town dock. Jesse could hear a radio somewhere. A ball game. Probably the Sox. Fu

Thank God it's… what is today… Tuesday. Thank God it's Tuesday.

He turned the glass in his hands. It was a squat glass, thick, with a hint of green.

He'd had to shoot him. Snyder would have done it.

He stood and put some ice in the glass. The ice took on the green tint even more faintly than the glass.

If he loved her so goddamned much, why was he going to shoot her?

He poured four ounces of scotch over the ice. The ice showed translucent through the amber scotch.

Maybe it wasn't love, maybe it was need.

He unscrewed the top of the soda bottle.

Which was not the same thing.

Jesse poured soda over the ice on top of the scotch.

So, if he needed her, why would he shoot her?

Jesse stirred his drink slowly by moving the ice cubes around with his forefinger. A rowboat moved across the surface among the moored boats. A man sat in the back. A boy was rowing. The boy was having trouble keeping the boat on course, but the man didn't seem bothered by it. He let the boy make his own adjustments. Jesse held his glass up and looked at the way the light came through it. There was moisture on the outside of the glass.

It was about control.

He could hear the water move below the deck. Occasionally he heard a seagull squawk. There was the faint sound of music to go with the ball game. And occasionally laughter from the partying power boats.

That was why Snyder beat her up. He had to know he could control her and then he could know he wouldn't lose her. Shooting her would be complete control.

Jesse swirled the glass a little, listening to the sound the ice cubes made against the glass.

The dumb bastard thought he loved her.

The rowboat reached the wharf and after a struggle the boy brought it around so that it was against the landing float. The man reached out and held it steady while the boy climbed out. Then the boy held it steady for the man. Jesse made a gesture of toast toward them with his glass.

The man and boy took some tackle out of the row-boat and walked up the wharf and out of sight. Jesse sat turning his glass in his hands. Then he stood and walked to the railing of his deck and looked down at the cola-colored water rocking against the seawall below him and dropped his drink, glass and all, into the ocean.

Chapter Sixty

Alan Garner was eating a slice of pepperoni pizza and drinking a diet Sprite at the counter of a place on Dartmouth Street when Jesse and Brian Kelly came in and sat down on either side of him.

Jesse said, "Hi."

Kelly didn't speak.

Garner looked for a moment at Jesse. Then he remembered.

"The police chief," he said.

"Paradise, Mass.," Jesse said.

Garner nodded.

"This is Detective Kelly," Jesse said. "Boston."

"How ya doing," Kelly said.

Garner chewed the last bite of his pizza, and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. He swallowed some diet Sprite. Then he smiled.

"Am I in trouble with the law?" he said.

"You want to talk about it here?" Jesse said.

"We could sit in a booth," Garner said.

"Sure."

The two cops moved to a booth opposite the counter. Garner paid his bill, then he took his diet Sprite bottle and sat beside Jesse. Kelly sat across from them.

"So, guys, what's up?" he said.

"Tell us about Billie Bishop," Jesse said.

"Who?"

"Billie Bishop," Jesse said.

"I'm sorry, I don't know anything about Billie Bishop," Garner said.

He took a little diet Sprite from the bottle, his elbow resting on the table so that he had to dip his head to drink.

"Tell us about Dawn Davis," Jesse said.

Garner put his diet Sprite down.

"Dawn Davis," he said.

"Dawn Davis," Jesse said.

"I don't think I know her," Garner said.

"How do you know it's a her?"

"I, oh, Dawn/Don, I see, I guess I just assumed because you were asking about a girl before."

"Billie Bishop?" Kelly said.

"Yes."

"How did you know Billie Bishop was a girl?" Kelly said.

Garner opened his mouth and closed it. He looked at his bottle of diet Sprite. He looked across at the counter man. Both cops were silent. Garner drank some diet Sprite. He looked at his watch.

"I… I don't have anything to say."

"Where do you live?" Kelly said.

"Cohassett."

"Where in Cohassett?"

"Jerusalem Road."

"Where Gino Fish lives," Kelly said.

"I live with Gino."

"You his new tootsie?" Kelly said.

"We have a relationship," Garner said.

"I'm glad for you," Kelly said.

"And you work for him?" Jesse said.

"Yes."

The cops didn't say anything.

"Why?" Garner said.

"Why what?" Jesse said.

"Why are you asking about Gino?"

Jesse took a small notebook from his pocket and thumbed through the pages for a moment.

"You used to live in Brighton?" Jesse said.

"Yes."

"Market Street?"

"Yes. But I moved last year."

"In with Gino," Jesse said.

"Yes. There something wrong with that?"

"You remember your phone number in Brighton?"

"Five six… something."

Jesse read it to him.

"Could be it," Garner said. "You know how many numbers you have these days."

Jesse read another number. "How about that one?" he said.

"You must have checked that. It's my number at work."

"In Gino's office," Jesse said.

"Yes."

Again they were silent. The diet Sprite bottle was empty. Garner looked at the door.

The poor bastard, Jesse thought. He came in here, feeling good, going to have a nice piece of pizza, and now he's fucked and he knows it.

The silence got longer.

Finally Garner said, "What do you want?"

"We want to know what happened to Billie Bishop," Jesse said.

"I don't know anything about that."

Jesse looked at Kelly. Kelly sighed.

"Here's what we got," Kelly said. "We got you for procuring. We got you for living off the earnings of a prostitute. We got you for contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Probably several minors."

Garner shook his head slowly as Kelly spoke.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.