Split Image

The beagle scrabbled on the sidewalk at the end of the leash.

"Oh, all right, Sally," the woman said to the dog, and let the beagle pull her off toward town.

Su

I miss my Rose, she thought.

She began to walk again, but slowly, as if she had no destination.

But I know a lot about what Jesse is like inside, more than I know about my father or the man I married… except I don't know if he loves me… or can.

The smell of the harbor was strong. She couldn't see much of it because the houses were very close along here; waterfront property was very expensive, no reason to waste any. She shook her head and laughed to herself without humor.

Of course, I don't know if I love him… or can.

Ahead of her was the uninteresting back of a gray shingled house that was right up against the sidewalk. There were a few small windows and a blank red door that faced the street. On the door was the number 17 in brass. The address of the Bond of the Renewal. When she reached the door, Su

Do I want to go in there now… No, I don't… Do I want to swap small talk with the Renewal… Not today… Right now I want to walk along the street some more and think of how fucked-up Jesse's life is… and mine… and pretty much everything goddamned else.

She turned and walked back toward the Gray Gull at the foot of the long gradual downhill return.

I think all I ever understood was Rosie.

6

PETER PERKINS CAME INTO Jesse's office, carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and a manila folder in the other. He put the coffee on the edge of Jesse's desk, sat down in one of the visitors' chairs, and opened the folder.

"ME's report?" Jesse said.

"Yep, on Petrov Ognowski."

"So it was his car," Jesse said.

"Yep. ID'ed him with his fingerprints. Got a big record. Shot once in the back of the head with a.22 slug, probably a Magnum load, the way it churned around inside his skull."

"Identifiable?" Jesse said.

"Nope, too beat up. ME says they could barely tell it was a.22, the way it was twisted out of shape." "Happens," Jesse said. "Got a time of death?" "Tuesday night between midnight and six." "Anything else?" "Not much. Petrov might have gone happy, though. He had sex earlier Tuesday evening." "You ever wonder how they know that?" Jesse said.

Perkins looked startled.

"You don't know?"

"Not a clue," Jesse said.

Perkins looked even more startled.

He said, "Some kind of science, I guess."

"Probably is," Jesse said. "What else do we know about Mr. Ognowski?"

"He's a soldier with a mob headed by a guy named Reggie Galen. Strong-arm mostly. Arrested six times for assault. Served some time for extortion."

"Where'd he do time," Jesse said.

"Garrison."

"See what they can tell you about him," Jesse said.

Perkins made a note in his folder.

"You know where Reggie lives?" Jesse said.

"Here."

"On the Neck," Jesse said.

"In the old Stackpole house," Perkins said, "next door to Knocko Moynihan."

"Who bought the old Winthrop house," Jesse said.

"There goes the neighborhood," Perkins said.

"Unless you're a thug," Jesse said.

"Why do you suppose they did that?" Perkins said. "Moved in next door to one another."

"My dick is bigger than yours, I suppose," Jesse said.

"They don't get along, do they?"

"I don't believe so," Jesse said.

"Well," Perkins said. "Gives us a nice passel of suspects to talk with."

"None of whom will be able to shed any light on the unfortunate crime."

"Yeah," Perkins said. "Trouble with gang murders is nobody sees anything, knows anything. All of them got lawyers."

Jesse smiled. Perkins was a good kid, but Jesse wondered just how many gang murders he'd worked on. Perkins saw the smile.

"Don't you think?" he said.

"I do," Jesse said. "He have a gun on him?"

"Ognowski? No."

"In the car?" Jesse said.

"No."

"Any kind of weapon?" Jesse said.

"No," Perkins said. "That mean something?"

"Guys in his profession," Jesse said, "usually like to be carrying something."

"So, what's it mean that he wasn't?"

"Don't know," Jesse said. "It's a little odd, so we mark it, you know?"

"Yessir," Perkins said. "You go

"I'll talk to Healy first, see what the staties know."

"And I'll get hold of somebody at Garrison," Perkins said.

"Good," Jesse said.

"We got a theory of the case yet?" Perkins said.

"Somebody shot Petrov and put him in his trunk," Jesse said.

"Wow," Perkins said. "It's great to work with a professional."

"I know," Jesse said. "I know."

7

I NEED A DRINK," Su

"Martini?"

"Yes."

Jesse made her a martini and himself a scotch and soda and brought the drinks into the living room. Su

"Hey," he said. "I'm the boozer around here."

"Richie's wife had a son. Richard Felix Burke, seven pounds, four ounces."

Jesse nodded.

"Drink up," he said.

Su

Then she said, "Richie called me. He sounded so excited. So happy."

"Must be an exciting thing," Jesse said.

"It's over," Su

"You and Richie?"

"Yes," she said. "I know him. He will never leave his son or his son's mother."

Jesse nodded. Su

"No," Su

"The jolt work?" Jesse said.

"No."

"Generally doesn't," he said.

"Several more jolts won't work, either," Su

"Probably not," Jesse said.

"At least the roller coaster is over," Su

"Excused," Jesse said. "You want to stay here tonight?" Su

"I couldn't."

"No ulterior motives," Jesse said. "I can sleep on the couch."

"Thank you, but no," Su

"You may not be with Richie," Jesse said. "But you won't be alone."

Su

"Thank you."

They were quiet. Then Su

He still had most of his drink left. He sipped it slowly, looking at the big photo of Ozzie Smith stretched parallel to the infield, catching a line drive. Then he got up and made another drink and walked with it to the French doors that opened onto the little balcony that overlooked the harbor. He didn't go out. He sipped his drink and looked at the dark water.

Then he raised the half-drunk glass of scotch.

"Good luck, Richard Felix Burke," he said, and drank.