Текст книги "High profile"

Автор книги: Robert B. Parker

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

15

Jenn and Sunny left together. Jesse sat at the bar for a time after they left, rolling the empty glass in his hands. The scent of their perfumes remained, commingling in the quiet room. The sun splash on the floor was gone. Jesse put the glass down, took his gun from a drawer and put it on, looked around the silent room for a moment. Inhaled. And went to the station.

“I got Lutz in the squad room,” Molly said. “Waiting patiently.”

“Good,” Jesse said.

“And I’ve got the jerk from the governor waiting in your office.”

“Not patiently,” Jesse said.

“No.”

Jesse started down the corridor.

“Where you going?” Molly said.

“Squad room.”

Molly stared at him for a moment, and opened her mouth, and shut it and said nothing.

Jesse opened the door to the squad room.

“I’m Jesse Stone,” he said.

Lutz stood. They shook hands. He had a hard handshake.

“Con Lutz,” he said.

They sat. Lutz picked up a foam coffee cup from the conference table and drank some.

“Must be something genetic,” Lutz said. “I’ve never had good coffee in a police station.”

“You ever on the job?” Jesse said.

“Baltimore,” Lutz said.

“Molly show you the pictures?”

“Yep. It’s Carey Longley.”

“Tell me about her,” Jesse said.

“Walton’s assistant. Been with him about a year.”

“They an item?” Jesse said.

“You mean did they fool around?”

“Yeah.”

“I ain’t here to gossip about Walton,” Lutz said, “or bad-mouth him, either. I worked for him eight years.”

“Bodyguard.”

“Yeah.”

“Where were you this time?” Jesse said.

Lutz looked into his coffee cup for a moment. He shook his head.

“They went out without me,” he said.

“Deliberately?”

“Yeah. Walton told me to take the night off. He said he and Carey were going out.”

“That unusual?” Jesse said.

“Yes, he liked me to stay with him.”

“They say where they were going?” Jesse said.

“No.”

“She was ten weeks pregnant,” Jesse said. “Weeks was the father.”

Lutz looked at the surface of his coffee again.

“Okay,” he said. “That takes it out of the realm of gossip, I guess.”

“They an item?”

“Sure. A hot one. She was his girlfriend for a while before he hired her. I figured they were going off for some sort of romantic something, you know?”

“Anything wrong with the relationship?” Jesse said.

“Just that he had a wife,” Lutz said. “Carey and Walton seemed fine.”

“Wife know about Carey?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, she knew he had an assistant. But I don’t think she knew he was fucking her.”

“He do this often?” Jesse said.

“Yeah. Walton liked women. He married three of them. He probably cheated on them all.”

“What was he doing up here?”

Lutz shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Carey did all that stuff. I just protected him.”

“You didn’t know ahead of time?” Jesse said. “How’d you know if there would be security issues?”

“I wasn’t the Secret Service,” Lutz said. “Hell, Walton wasn’t the president, either. If he was going someplace to give a speech or whatever, Carey would notify the local cops and they’d do what they thought they should do. I was just along to see that no one assaulted him on the sidewalk or whatever.”

“Which you look like you can do,” Jesse said.

“Which I can,” Lutz said. “But tell you the truth, I think part of it was that Walton just liked having a bodyguard around. Good for his image.”

“Ever any trouble.”

“A few drunks,” Lutz said. “A few protesters.”

“Sometimes one and the same,” Jesse said.

Lutz grinned.

“You got that right,” he said.

“Any big trouble?”

“No.”

“You and he get along?” Jesse said.

“Sure. Once we both got it that I was a bodyguard, not somebody who runs errands, or makes coffee, or gets you a dinner reservation.”

Jesse nodded.

“You have any idea why they ended up dead in my town?” Jesse said.

“No,” Lutz said.

“Hate mail, death threats, warnings, anything like that?”

Lutz shook his head. “None that he shared with me.”

“Who would he share them with?”

“Carey, maybe. She probably handled his personal mail. His manager would have handled the, you know, public-figure mail.”

“You guard him twenty-four-seven?” Jesse said.

“No. In New York, he lives in a secure building. I’d drive him when he went out, but when he was home I was off duty, so to speak.”

“When he traveled?” Jesse said.

“When he traveled I went with him. Stayed next door. But when he was in for the night, I was off.”

“Know anything useful?” Jesse said.

“Guy’s a bodyguard and his clients die,” Lutz said, “it doesn’t make him look good. Besides which, I worked for the guy eight years. So before I came up to see you, I checked a little. Nobody at the front door remembers getting them a cab. Nobody at the concierge desk remembers arranging anything. No car rental, no limo, no dinner reservation, no theater tickets, nothing.”

“And people would remember,” Jesse said.

“Walton was pretty well-known,” Lutz said.

“Anyone remember them coming out of the hotel?”

“One doorman said he thought they headed up Franklin Street.” Lutz smiled. “It wasn’t Walton so much. Doorman says he was watching Carey’s ass.”

“Any people I should talk to about Weeks?” Jesse said.

“Sure,” Lutz said. “I don’t know everyone, but I can give you a few names to start with.”

“You think of any Paradise connection?” Jesse said. “For either of them?”

“Only reason I ever heard of the place,” Lutz said, “was that serial killing thing you had up here a while back.”

“Either Carey or Walton ever mention the town?”

“Nope.”

“You have any theory,” Jesse said, “about why they died, or why they ended up here?”

“None,” Lutz said.

“That makes two of us,” Jesse said.

16

Could you join me with the governor’s guy?” Jesse said to Molly as he walked to his office.

“Always best to have a witness,” Molly said.

The man in Jesse’s office didn’t stand when they came in. He was maybe fifty. He wore black wingtipped shoes, a dark suit, a red tie, and a white shirt with a collar pin. His sandy hair was newly cut and parted on the left.

“Richard Kennfield,” he said. “From Governor Forbes. Didn’t she tell you I was waiting?”

“Officer Crane?” Jesse said. “Yes, she told me.”

Jesse sat behind his desk and, pushing the chair back, put one foot on an open bottom drawer.

“And you chose to keep me sitting here for several hours?”

“Yes,” Jesse said.

“Do you have an explanation?”

Jesse nodded. Molly remained standing by the door.

“I do,” he said.

Kennfield waited. Jesse was silent.

“What is it?” Kennfield said after a while.

“I had police work to do,” Jesse said.

“And you don’t think police work includes talking to the representative of the chief executive of the state?”

“Nope.”

“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” Kennfield said.

“I’m not sure it’s deliberate,” Jesse said. “What can I do for you?”

Kennfield paused for a moment and weighed his options. Then he shook his head slightly, puffed his cheeks a little, and blew some air out.

“Walton Weeks was a longtime supporter of Governor Forbes,” Kennfield said.

Jesse nodded.

“The governor is very concerned about his murder.”

Jesse nodded.

“We would like a full report on the death of Walton Weeks,” Kennfield said. “And the progress of the investigation.”

“Me too,” Jesse said.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t know any more than you do.”

“We want progress reports,” Kennfield said. “We want to know every step you’re taking.”

“I’ve got everybody in the department looking for the killer or killers. We haven’t found him…or her…or them.”

“And we want the state police involved,” Kennfield said.

Jesse realized that Kennfield was checking off a mental list.

“I’ve been in touch with the homicide commander,” Jesse said.

“We want the full resources of the state brought to bear on this investigation,” Kennfield said. “We want you working hand in glove with Captain Healy.”

“Sure,” Jesse said.

“Now”—Kennfield checked off another mental point—“what is your theory of the case?”

“Same people that killed Weeks,” Jesse said, “killed Carey Longley.”

“Carey…?”

“His assistant.”

“Oh, yes,” Kennfield said. “Because of the same murder weapon.”

“Because of that,” Jesse said.

“And what haven’t you told the press?” Kennfield said.

“That Carey was ten weeks pregnant with Walton’s kid.”

“Pregnant?”

“Yep.”

“Is that a holdback?” Kennfield said.

“No,” Jesse said. “We hold back things that only the killer could know, so if someone knows it, it’s a clue. The killer or killers could have known, or not known, and if they knew could have known or not known that it was Walton Weeks’s child. No point in holding it back. Somebody knows it, it proves nothing.”

“Then why didn’t you tell the press?” Kennfield said.

“Saw no good reason to. There’s Weeks’s widow and Carey’s next of kin to think about.”

“Yes, it’s best kept quiet,” Kennfield said. “Lorrie Weeks is a very close friend of the governor, and she has always been as supportive as Walton was.”

“I can’t promise you,” Jesse said. “It may become pertinent, and if so, I’ll blab.”

“That would not endear you to us.”

Jesse nodded.

“We want your cooperation in this,” Kennfield said.

Jesse nodded.

“And our cooperation with you can be very helpful.”

Jesse nodded.

“You don’t seem to care,” Kennfield said.

“I don’t,” Jesse said.

“Perhaps we could change that,” Kennfield said.

He stood and walked to the door. With the door half open, he turned back to Jesse.

“Is it something personal?” he said. “Do you dislike the governor?”

Jesse shook his head.

“I don’t even know the governor,” Jesse said. “It’s you I dislike.”

Kennfield stared for a moment at Jesse, then he turned and left.

“Wait until he gets to his car,” Molly said.

“Why?”

Molly smiled.

“I gave him a parking ticket,” she said.

Jesse smiled and raised his right hand and Molly high-fived him.

17

How’s it going so far?” Jesse said on the phone.

“Fine,” Sunny said. “She’s taking a shower right now.”

“You think this might be kind of bizarre?” Jesse said.

“If things get back to normal, it will get bizarre, I suspect,” Sunny said. “Right now it’s about sisterhood.”

“She and Rosie get along?”

“Deeply bonded,” Sunny said. “In fact, Rosie is sitting at the bathroom door as we speak, waiting for Jenn to come out.”

“Jenn’s never had a dog,” Jesse said.

“Well, she seems to like Rosie, and Rosie likes her,” Sunny said.

“Jenn’s a lot of fun,” Jesse said.

“Except when she’s not,” Sunny said.

“Except then,” Jesse said. “I don’t assume you’ve made much progress on the rapist.”

“We’re just getting ourselves comfortable together,” Sunny said. “I haven’t even asked her about it yet.”

“Hard to investigate if you have to stay with her all the time.”

“My friend Spike will help with the babysitting,” Sunny said. “And helping me investigate might be good for her…and here she is, looking elegant in a large bath towel.”

Jesse could feel the memory of Jenn in his stomach. She would come from the shower like that, and flip the towel and flash him.

“I need to talk with her,” Jesse said.

Jenn said, “Hello?”

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“What can you tell me about Walton Weeks?”

There was a pause. Jesse knew Jenn’s focus was deep but narrow. It would take her a minute to think of anything but her situation. Suitcase Simpson appeared at Jesse’s door, saw that Jesse was on the phone, and paused. Jesse waved him away and he disappeared.

“Me?” Jenn said.

“You’re in his business,” Jesse said.

“Well, I know he’s very successful,” Jenn said.

“Uh-huh.”

“And he’s, let’s see…He’s got the weekly TV show.”

“Walton’s Week,” Jesse said.

“Clever, isn’t it,” Jenn said. “And he’s got his daily radio show, and the syndicated column he does.”

“It’s in the Globe around here,” Jesse said. “Is he right-wing, left-wing?”

“Oh, hell, Jesse. I don’t know. You know I don’t pay attention to stuff like that.”

“Who would know?” Jesse said.

“Have you tried the Internet?” Jenn said.

“I’m looking for someone I can talk with.”

“I don’t…” She was silent while she thought. “I know.” Her voice quickened. “My former news director, Jay Wade. He’s a communications professor now, at Taft, you know, in Walford.”

“I know.”

“I could call him for you,” Jenn said. “Arrange for you to see him.”

“You and he are pals?”

“Sure, we worked together for two years, Jesse.”

“And he was your boss?” Jesse said.

“Yes. He’s the one gave me that Race Week feature.”

Alone in his office with his feet on the desk, Jesse nodded silently.

“I can call him,” Jesse said. “Thanks.”

When they had hung up Jesse sat motionless for a while. I wonder if Jay fucked her? He shook his head. Got to stop doing that. He stood and went to the door of his office and stuck his head out and yelled.

“Suit.”

18

I been going through that list of names you got from the bodyguard,” Suit said.

Jesse waited. Suit always admired Jesse’s silence. Suit thought he himself talked too much. He wished he were silent like Jesse.

“Couldn’t reach the manager,” Suit said. “He’s in New York. I left word to call me back.”

“And when he doesn’t?”

“I’ll call him again.”

Jesse nodded.

“The wives all got back to me.”

“Two ex– and one current,” Jesse said.

“Yeah.” Suit looked at his list. “Two of them in New York. They still use his name. Lorrie Weeks is the current wife, and Stephanie Weeks is wife number two. Ellen Migliore, wife one, is remarried and lives in Italy. I haven’t talked to her.”

Jesse nodded.

“The other two were mostly interested in the estate, you know, the will and stuff. Current wife, Lorrie, was also interested in Carey Longley and how come she got killed.”

“They have any idea what he was doing up here?”

“Nope. Current wife says he told her only that it was business, and he’d be gone a few days.”

“He was gone more than a few days,” Jesse said.

Suit nodded.

“Did that seem to bother her?” Jesse said.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Jesus, Jesse,” Suit said. “She just lost her husband, I didn’t want to press her hard right away.”

Jesse nodded.

“She may have killed him,” Jesse said.

“Jesus,” Suit said. “You think so?”

“I don’t know,” Jesse said. “Neither do you. And there’s nothing wrong with kind. But we need to know what we need to know.”

Suit nodded.

“Everybody I talked to said they had no idea who killed him. They said he was controversial but not, you know, crazy.”

“Threats?” Jesse said. “Hate mail?”

“They said they didn’t know, that his office handled that stuff.”

“Who’s the office?” Jesse said. “Carey?”

“No, according to them she was strictly his personal assistant. His manager handled the, you know, business stuff.”

“There’s probably a lawyer in there someplace,” Jesse said.

“No lawyer on your list,” Suit said. “Maybe the manager’s a lawyer, too.”

“Maybe,” Jesse said. “When you talk to them, see if there’s a lawyer.”

“Okay.”

“Any of the wives coming up here?”

“I don’t know,” Suit said. “None of them said they were.”

“Anybody been arranging for a funeral?” Jesse said.

“The wife,” Suit said. “Soon as the ME releases the body.”

“That would be Lorrie,” Jesse said.

“Yeah.”

Jesse nodded. They were quiet for a time.

Then Suit said, “There’s stuff bothering me.”

“Like not knowing who did it?” Jesse said.

“Yeah,” Suit said. “That. But this guy’s a big famous public figure, you know. And nobody knows why he’s up here.”

Jesse nodded.

“I mean, there’s nothing in the papers about him going to give a speech. Guy as famous as him, you always see stuff in the papers. His bodyguard don’t even know why he’s here.”

“Or says he doesn’t,” Jesse said.

“And another thing,” Suit said. “I can’t think of a way to attract more attention to this case. Kill them at the same time. Save the bodies. Then hang the famous one on a tree. And wait awhile, and put the other one in a Dumpster.”

Jesse smiled.

“Surprise,” he said. “The press is all over it.”

“For crissake,” Suit said. “It’s like the guy wants publicity.”

“That bothers me, too,” Jesse said.

19

Jay Wade had longish blond hair that he combed straight back. His eyes behind the aviator-style glasses were pale blue. His jaw was firm.

“You still see Jenn?” he said.

“Yes.”

“You two together again?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jay said.

Jesse nodded. Maybe Jay Wade had never slept with Jenn. Or maybe he had. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders and neck tighten. Calm down. She’s not my property. If I were him, I’d have slept with her, too. The muscles continued to bunch.

“Jenn thinks you can tell me about Walton Weeks,” Jesse said.

Jay Wade nodded and leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head.

“Actually,” Jay said, “I knew Walton a little. I was political editor for a station in Maryland when he was doing weather.”

“Tell me about him,” Jesse said.

Jay smiled.

“Well,” he said. “Walton always had a good voice. People liked his voice. It projected well. He sounded like a guy from your neighborhood, but smarter. Walton always sounded smart.”

“Was he?”

“You know,” Wade said, “I don’t know. When I knew him he was a damn weatherman, you know. I never thought much about him being smart or dumb. After I left Maryland, and he got to be a national figure—I mean, who knows who wrote that column or the little editorial set pieces on his TV show. He seemed quick enough on the call-ins and guest interviews.”

“So he has some staff support in all of this.”

“Sure.”

“You wouldn’t know any names?” Jesse said.

“No. I don’t want to mislead you. I once knew Weeks in a casual workplace way twenty years ago.”

Jesse nodded.

“Did he ruffle a lot of feathers?” Jesse said.

“You mean back when I knew him or in his national celebrity phase?”

“Either way.”

“When I knew him everybody liked him. He was pleasant,” Wade said. “Now that he is, or was, a national figure, yeah, he ruffled a lot of feathers.”

“Conservative or liberal?” Jesse said.

“God, didn’t you ever listen to him?” Wade said.

“No.”

“My God, what do you do with yourself.”

“Mostly I’m a cop,” Jesse said. “When I have free time I follow baseball.”

“Jenn told me you used to play,” Wade said.

“Yep.”

“And you got hurt.”

“Yep.”

“Tough,” Wade said.

Jesse nodded.

“What about Walton Weeks?” he said.

“Walton’s a libertarian,” Wade said. “That probably brings him more in line with the right than the left. But basically he believed that government which governs least governs best. He believed in what he called the Eleventh Commandment.”

“Leave everyone else the hell alone,” Jesse said.

“Yeah. Guy like Walton Weeks,” Wade said, “it often depends on who’s ox he’s goring, you know? When he was hammering the tax-and-spend big-government liberals, the conservatives loved him and the liberals hated him. Now we seem to have spend-and-no-tax big-government conservatives in power, and he’s been hammering them, and now they are hating him. Maybe worse, because they feel betrayed.”

“You agree with him?” Jesse said.

“Currently I’ve tended to. But the problem with Walton is that he puts principle ahead of results.”

“Like?”

“Civil rights,” Wade said. “He believed completely in integration but felt the government should not impose it.”

“And you disagree,” Jesse said.

“A lot of us disagree. You think integration would have happened without government imposition?”

“No,” Jesse said.

“Then you disagree with Walton, too.”

“Not enough to kill him,” Jesse said.

“You think he was killed for political reasons?” Wade said.

“Just rattling all the doorknobs,” Jesse said. “I heard he was a womanizer.”

Wade grinned.

“He was married several times,” Wade said. “Me too. Depends on your perspective. You, ah, interact with a lot of women and you could be a womanizer, or you could just be very popular.”

Jesse tried not to think about Jenn.

“Walton interacted,” Jesse said.

“Often. It was an open secret in the industry,” Wade said. “Not that there was anything especially hypocritical about it. It’s not like you preach against drugs and you’re a junkie, or you preach celibacy and there’s nudies of you on the Web.”

“So there could be a jealous husband,” Jesse said.

“Sure,” Wade said.

This is too close. Jesse could hear himself breathing. This is too close.

20

The law office was in a storefront in a strip mall. Jenn stood in the doorway with her microphone. Her cameraman focused. Sunny stood behind him, watching. She had seen no sign of the stalker.

“Rolling,” the cameraman said.

Jenn knocked on the door. It opened, but not very much.

“Attorney Marc LaRoche?” Jenn said.

Someone muttered something from behind the slightly open door.

“Channel Three, how do you respond to allegations that you have consistently failed to adequately represent female clients in divorce cases?”

Another mumble.

“No, sir,” Jenn said, “it is our business. The public has a right to know.”

There was something inaudible from behind the open door and then the door slammed shut. Jenn pounded on it.

“Attorney LaRoche,” she shouted. “Why won’t you address this issue? Attorney LaRoche?”

Jenn turned and looked into the camera, holding her microphone.

“Perhaps Attorney LaRoche has something to hide,” Jenn said. “Perhaps not. Clearly he doesn’t wish to speak with us. We’ll stay on this until all the truth is told. We don’t take no for an answer. Jenn Stone, Channel Three.”

The cameraman pulled back for a wide shot that showed a sign in the window: ATTORNEY MARC LAROCHE. Jenn kept looking into the camera until the cameraman said, “Okay, Jenn.” Then she lowered the mike and all three of them walked to the News 3 van.

“You gonna do a lead-in?” the cameraman said.

Jenn shook her head.

“No. John will do the lead-in from the anchor desk.”

“Okay,” the cameraman said, “then let’s go home.”

Back at the station, Jenn took the tape to the editing room and left it.

“We’ll edit this afternoon,” she said to Sunny. “Right now we need lunch.”

Sunny smiled.

“I almost always need lunch,” she said.

As they walked across the vast brick plaza in front of City Hall, Sunny said, “Any sign of our stalker?”

Jenn glanced around and shook her head.

“Does he show up some places more than others?” Sunny said.

“No,” Jenn said. “I never know.”

As they walked, Sunny watched the men they passed. A number of them looked at Jenn, and some of them looked at her. It meant little. Jenn was recognizable, and both of them looked good enough for men to glance at them anyway.

In the Parker House they sat at a window in the restaurant. When they had ordered, Jenn leaned forward.

“We need to talk about Jesse and us,” Jenn said.

Sunny nodded.

“Do you love Jesse?” Jenn said.

Sunny sat back in her chair with her hands in her lap. She was quiet for a little while. Jenn waited, still leaning forward.

“When I’m with him,” Sunny said.

“And when you’re not?”

“I don’t miss him as much as I would expect to.”

“How much would you expect to?” Jenn said.

Surprise, surprise, Sunny thought. She’s not dumb.

“As much, I guess, as I miss my ex-husband,” Sunny said.

“Do you see him much?” Jenn said.

“He’s remarried.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t see him,” Jenn said.

“We share a dog,” Sunny said. “I see him when he picks her up or drops her off.”

“Why did you get divorced?” Jenn said.

“I’m not sure, I’m working on it.”

“No, I meant your idea or his?” Jenn said.

“I guess it was mine.”

Through the window Sunny could see a man standing outside King’s Chapel with his hands in his pockets. He was looking toward the hotel. Sunny didn’t know if he could see them through the window. It depended on how the glass was reflecting.

“Could that be our stalker?” she said to Jenn.

Jenn flinched momentarily, then turned to look at the man.

“No,” she said, “that’s not him.”

“You’re sure?” Sunny said.

Jenn nodded slowly.

“If it was him, I’d have that awful feeling.”

The waitress brought their salads. Jenn picked up a scrap of red lettuce from hers and ate it.

“I guess it was my idea, too,” Jenn said.

“To leave Jesse?”

“I left him.”

“Why?”

“I always say it was his drinking, but it wasn’t. His drinking got worse after I left.”

“So what was it?”

Jenn shrugged.

“I was an actress,” she said. “I had an affair with a producer.”

“Was he going to make you a star?” Sunny said.

Jenn made a face.

“Something like that,” she said. “When Jesse found out, he said he could forgive anything once.”

“You promised never to do it again,” Sunny said.

“Yes.”

“But you did it again.”

“Jesse couldn’t really forgive it. He didn’t rant and rave or anything. But…his drinking got away from him, I guess.”

“So you divorced him.”

“Actually, he divorced me. But it was my fault. By the time we divorced, he had no other choice.”

“Do you know why you continued to cheat on him?”

“Yes, I’ve talked with shrinks about it until my tongue hurts. It’s too boring to try and explain.”

“I don’t need to know,” Sunny said. “You still using the same techniques?”

Jenn smiled.

“Fucking my way to the top?” she said.

Sunny shrugged. Jenn ate a crouton.

“It’s worked great,” Jenn said. “I just recently got promoted from weather girl.”

Sunny smiled.

“Show-business opportunities are not unlimited in this market,” she said.

“For sure,” Jenn said.

“Did you come here because Jesse was here?” she said.

“Yes.”

“You still love him?”

“I think so.”

“But you still…”

“I’m still trying to fuck my way to the top,” Jenn said.

“But…” Sunny said.

“Jesse is like your ex-husband, you know? I can’t imagine life without him in it.”

“But…”

“Almost anything I know that matters, I learned from him,” Jenn said.

Sunny waited.

“I always needed to be somebody, and I always thought that what I had to offer was that I looked good and I could fuck,” Jenn said.

Sunny smiled.

“Most of us can,” Sunny said.

“But I do,” Jenn said. “Jesse was always somebody, you know? He was always so self-sufficient and complete and…somebody.”

“Except for you and drinking,” Sunny said.

“Yes,” Jenn said. “I think I kind of liked the drinking. It was a weakness, made him more human, sort of.”

“And you?”

Jenn smiled and nodded.

“I thought that was a weakness, too,” Jenn said. “You’ve had some therapy.”

“Yes.”

“One of my shrinks said if it weren’t for his weaknesses,” Jenn said, “me and booze, he would have been too complete, too…Jesse. If it weren’t for those weaknesses…”

“Of which you were one,” Sunny said.

Jenn nodded.

“Of which I was one,” she said. “Without those weaknesses, I probably couldn’t have loved him.”

Jenn moved her salad around with her fork, without eating any of it.

“How about you?” Jenn said to Sunny.

Sunny didn’t answer right away. She was looking out the window at the corner by King’s Chapel. The man was gone. She smiled without very much pleasure.

“Richie didn’t have any weaknesses,” she said.