Night passage

Hasty laughed at himself derisively.

“Talked a lot about saving it for marriage,” he said. “Then we got married and she wasn’t interested. You know? She’d lie back and close her eyes and think of England. But it was pretty much of a duty.”

“I guess marriage is different from dating,” Jesse said.

“I guess it is,” Hasty said.

Across the harbor a small tender plugged in toward the town wharf from one of the yachts moored in deeper water. Its ru

“I finally just decided that she was frigid and that the hot stuff before marriage was a way to get me. But you know how it is in a marriage. You figure you’re supposed to stick it out. After a while the way it is gets to seem like the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Yes,” Jesse said. “I know.”

“She seem frigid to you?” Hasty said.

“Hard to say.”

“Come on, Jesse. She embarrassed us both on the dance floor ten minutes ago. She seem frigid to you then?”

“No.”

“So how come she’s frigid at home, and hot with other men?”

“I’m a cop, Hasty. That’s a shrink question.”

“Aw, they’re all crazy themselves,” Hasty said.

Jesse didn’t say anything.

“Well, anyway, I’ve come to terms with it. We have our life together. Except for the sex, I like her. We get along good. What she does when I’m not home, I know she sees other men. I’m sure she’s hotter than Cleopatra with them. I . . . I . . .” Hasty made an aimless hand gesture. “We get along,” he said.

“Whatever works,” Jesse said. “You have anyone?”

“On the side, you mean? No.”

Jesse nodded.

“Anyway,” Hasty said, as if finishing a difficult chore, “I wanted you to know that I don’t blame you. I apologize for my wife.”

“Sure,” Jesse said. “No problem.”

Again they were quiet, the two men looking at the black harbor, forearms resting on the railing, each holding an empty plastic cup in his hand. The tender had reached the wharf and disappeared. Its ru

“Well, look at all that food,” Hasty said. “Better go in and get some before they eat it all up.”

“That’s right,” Jesse said. “That’s what we better do.”

Chapter 57

Jesse was at his desk when Molly brought Bobby Portugal in.

“Remember me?” Portugal said.

“Sure,” Jesse said. “Have a seat.”

“They’re cleaning out the house,” Portugal said.

“Where you and Tammy lived?”

“Yeah, and I had to come in from Springfield to get some stuff I left there. Probably hoping it would give me an excuse to come back. So I thought I’d stop by, see how the case was coming.”

“Not much hard evidence,” Jesse said.

“You got her diary?”

Jesse was silent for a moment. Then he got up and walked around Portugal and closed the office door.

When he was back behind his desk again he said, “Diary.”

“Yeah. You didn’t mention it when you was in Springfield, but I figure, cops. You know? I’m not bad-mouthing the police, I’m just figuring you got it and don’t see no reason to talk about it with me.”

“She kept a diary.”

“Long as I knew her, every night, last thing. Even if we had sex, when we was done, she’d write in the freaking diary.”

“You ever read it?” Jesse said.

“No. It was one of those leather ones with a lock on it. She wore the key on a chain around her neck. Little gold key. She had a lotta ambition. I think she thought she could write down everything she did and someday she could get someone to help her and they’d write a book about all her exciting adventures.”

Portugal shook his head and smiled grimly.

“Like getting knocked up by me.”

Jesse was quiet.

“So if you had the diary I figured it might tell you something, who she was seeing, who she went out with that night. Something. She wasn’t somebody to stay home and watch TV.”

Jesse shook his head slowly.

“You don’t have it, do you?” Portugal said, slowly surprised.

“No. Did you see the drawer where she kept it?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s what made me think of it. It wasn’t in there. You find the key on her when you . . . found her.”

Jesse shook his head.

“You might have missed it.”

“No.”

“She always had it on her.”

“She was stark naked,” Jesse said as gently as he could. “We’d have seen it.”

Portugal sat still a minute, looking at nothing.

“Yeah, sure,” he said after a moment, “you’d have seen it. You find her clothes?”

“No.”

Portugal nodded as if that were meaningful.

“If you keep a diary for a long time,” Jesse said, “you fill up the pages. Did she keep the old ones?”

“Yeah. I think so. She bought a new one when we got married and that’s the only one I know. She probably left the other ones home, at her mother’s house, when she got married.”

“You think her mother took it?”

Portugal shrugged.

“She could have. They were in there cleaning out the place. It’s going on the market Monday. I don’t get any. They get it all. Her old lady didn’t even want me in there to get my things. She never got over me knocking up her baby girl. But the old man’s not a bad guy. He called me, told me to come get my stuff. The old lady woulda chucked it in the Dumpster.”

Jesse tapped gently on the desktop with his fingers.

Finally he said, “I have your phone number. I know anything, I’ll let you know.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“You can count on it,” Jesse said. “And I’d appreciate it if the diary was something you didn’t talk about with anybody else.”

“Sure,” Portugal said. “No sweat.”

“Thanks,” Jesse said.

“I already told my girlfriend how Tammy used to keep a diary,” Portugal said.

“Well, ask her not to discuss it as well,” Jesse said.

“Well, since her husband don’t know about me,” Portugal said, “I guess she can keep a secret.”

“You better hope so,” Jesse said.

And they were both laughing as Portugal left.

Chapter 58

Lou Burke was getting into his car when Jesse opened the passenger door and got in beside him.

“Patrol supervising?” Jesse said.

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I ride along?” Jesse said. “I spend too much time in the office.”

“Come ahead,” Burke said.

Burke backed the car out of the parking lot and turned up Main Street. Between them was a shotgun, locked barrel up on the transmission hump.

“See if there’s any gum wrappers in the barrel,” Burke said. “Peter Perkins had the car before me.”

Jesse looked into the shotgun barrel. He blew some dust out.

“No gum wrappers,” he said.

“Boys don’t seem to have the proper respect for a weapon,” Burke said, “do they?”

“Never make it in the Corps,” Jesse said.

“You in the Marines?”

“Semper Fi,” Jesse said. “You?”

“Navy.”

“What was your job?”

Burke smiled.

“Lot of stuff. I was a lifer.”

“Twenty years?”

“Yeah. This is my retirement.”

Jesse smiled. Burke drove the car up Indian Hill Road. The startling leaves had finished turning, Jesse noticed. Many of the trees were leafless, or nearly so. And, puzzlingly, some of them still had leaves and the leaves were still green.

“Ever do any demolition work?” Jesse said.

Burke’s eyes shifted almost imperceptibly as he glanced involuntarily at Jesse and then looked back at the road.

“Yeah, some.”

Jesse nodded. At the top of Indian Hill, Burke drove the patrol car slowly into the park. It was during school hours, and it was chilly. There was no one in the park except a white-haired man in a black-and-red wool jacket walking an aging yellow Lab.