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“Fu
Burke didn’t say anything.
“Ever been to Denver?” Jesse said.
“Denver?”
“Yeah.”
“Why you asking?”
Jesse smiled at him.
“Why not?” Jesse said.
“Jesse, you got something on your mind, I think you just better say it right out.”
“I am saying it right out,” Jesse said, still smiling. “You ever been to Denver?”
“Yeah.”
Jesse’s smile was gone.
“When’s the last time you were in Denver?” Jesse said.
From Indian Hill, you could see the whole harbor, uneventful in the late fall, and the old town, weathered shingle, red brick, and church steeples beside the dark water. You could see across the harbor to Paradise Neck, the big glass facade of the Yacht Club teetering over the water. And you could see across the Neck, mostly evergreen trees, with white and gray houses among them, and look at the Atlantic Ocean.
Burke didn’t answer. He turned the car back down the hill toward the center of town.
“When’s the last time you were in Denver, Lou?”
Burke shook his head.
“Drive us back to the station, Lou.”
Burke was silent. Jesse let the silence stand. There was no reason to let Burke in on what Jesse knew. Jesse had never gotten in trouble saying too little. The patrol car pulled into its slot outside the station.
“I’m going to ask you to take a leave of absence, Lou.”
Burke turned toward him and started to speak, and stopped.
“Leave the handgun and the badge with Molly,” Jesse said.
As they got out of the car Burke turned and looked across the roof at Jesse.
“You sonova bitch,” he said.
Burke’s voice was thick, as if forced out through a closing throat. And there was something in Burke’s face that Jesse felt with a force he wasn’t used to. You didn’t work South Central without seeing hatred. But the passion in Burke’s face was beyond hatred. Jesse felt something like revulsion, as if he’d seen something grotesque for a moment. He felt as if he needed to hold steady against it, the way you lean into a strong wind.
“Gun and badge to Molly, Lou,” Jesse said.
Chapter 59
Tammy Portugal’s maiden name was Ge
The kitchen table where Jesse sat was made of metal covered with white enamel. There was a small fold-up leaf at either end. The mug from which Mr. Ge
“You sure you won’t have coffee?” Mrs. Ge
“No, thank you, ma’am,” Jesse said.
Jesse hated instant coffee. Across the table from him, Mr. Ge
“How are you both doing?” Jesse asked.
Mr. Ge
Mrs. Ge
“It’ll get better,” Jesse said. “I know it doesn’t feel like that now, but in time, it’ll get better.”
Neither one said anything. Probably didn’t want it to get better right now, Jesse thought, probably were so into the grief that it was their life, and without it they wouldn’t have anything at all.
“I see you have your daughter’s house on the market,” Jesse said.
“Yeah,” Mr. Ge
“You selling it furnished?” Jesse said.
“No,” Mrs. Ge
“That’s good,” Jesse said. “It would be painful doing that yourself.”
Mrs. Ge
“I hope you were able to keep some memories,” Jesse said.
Mr. Ge
“What do you mean,” Mrs. Ge
“You know,” Jesse said, “pictures, letters, diaries, stuff like that.”
They were silent.
“She keep a diary?” Jesse said.
Simultaneously, Mr. Ge
Jesse smiled politely and didn’t say anything. The Ge
“If she kept a diary it might help us find who killed her,” Jesse said.
The Ge
“I want to punish the man who killed your daughter,” Jesse said.
Silence. Mr. Ge
“I know there are diaries,” Jesse said.
Mrs. Ge
“I need to see them.”
Still she shook her head. Jesse looked at her husband.
“You want the man that killed your daughter?” Jesse said.
His voice was still quiet, but the pleasantness was gone.
“You embarrassed by what’s in there?” Jesse said. “What would she say? Would she say, ‘Cover up for me and let the man who killed me get away’? Would she say that?”
“No,” Mr. Ge
“Eddie,” Mrs. Ge
Ge
“No,” he said again.
Then he stood and walked into the next room.
“Eddie,” Mrs. Ge
Ge
“This is them,” he said. He nodded at his wife. “She got the keys.”
“I won’t give them to you,” Mrs. Ge
“You don’t have to, ma’am,” Jesse said.
“I raised a decent girl,” Mrs. Ge
“She was decent anyway,” Ge
“I don’t want him prying into those books, Eddie,” Mrs. Ge
“He’s going to,” Ge
“Don’t you care what I want?” Mrs. Ge
“I want the guy caught,” Ge
Jesse picked up the beer case with the diaries carefully stacked in it.
“How you going to open them without the keys?” Mrs. Ge
“Probably pry them open,” Jesse said, “with a screwdriver.”
Mrs. Ge
She left the kitchen. Jesse waited. Ge
“I want them books back,” she said, “with no damage.”
“I’ll get them back to you, ma’am,” Jesse said.