“How disappointing,” Jesse said.
“Think how I feel,” Dix said.
29
“You’re back,” Jesse said when Suitcase Simpson came into his office.
“Been eating a lot of crab cakes,” Suit said.
“They do that in Baltimore. Drink a little National Bo with the crab cakes?”
“Only while off duty,” Suit said.
He saluted with three fingers, like a Boy Scout. Jesse thought Suit seemed very pleased with himself.
“Do anything else?” Jesse said.
“I found Bonnie Faison,” Suit said.
“Really?” Jesse said.
“Yep. Wasn’t easy. But for a man with my crime detection instincts...”
“Was she still at the last address they had for her?” Jesse said.
“Yep. That Baltimore County cop went over with me.”
“Sergeant Franks,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, him,” Suit said. “She’s at the same place. She’s almost forty, got two kids and no husband, lives with her mother.”
“Sounds great,” Jesse said.
“Yeah. I don’t think anyone’s happy about it,” Suit said. “But there they are. Three-bedroom ranch, yard about the size of a pool table. Some sort of inbred dog looks like a hyena.”
“She remember the incident?”
“After a while,” Suit said. “She didn’t want to talk about it, but Franks sort of convinced her she had to or else.”
Jesse nodded.
“Tell you one thing,” Suit said. “I hope she looked better when Weeks was poking her.”
Jesse nodded again.
“Man, she’s so fat, I don’t think you’d know if you were in,” Suit said.
“Maybe she was better at nineteen,” Jesse said.
“I hope so.”
“How’d she meet Weeks?” Jesse said.
“She was hanging out at the mall, and picked him up after a book signing.”
“She the aggressor?” Jesse said.
“Sounds that way. Her mother said she just wanted to fuck a celebrity.”
“Maternal pride,” Jesse said.
“Her mother says she woulda fucked anybody she saw on television, before she got too fat.”
“You’re quoting,” Jesse said.
“Uh-huh,” Suit said. “Mother’s skinny as a lizard. Smoked about two packs of cigarettes while we were there.”
“Bonnie ever see Weeks again?”
“No. He gave her his phone number, but when she called it she found out it was some restaurant in Baltimore.”
“So she never saw him again.”
“Nope,” Suit said, “but they’ll always have the White Marsh Mall.”
He went to the coffeemaker on top of Jesse’s file cabinet and poured some coffee, added sugar and nondairy creamer, and took a sip.
“How old were the kids,” Jesse said.
“Little kids, you know, eight, ten years old, maybe. I don’t know much about kids.”
Suit drank some coffee.
“Anything else?” Jesse said.
“Well, yeah, a little something,” Suit said.
Jesse waited. Suit drank another swallow of coffee.
“On the ride back to the station,” Suit said, “Franks and I were, you know, talking, and I asked him what happened to the arresting officer, you know, the guy busted Weeks. And Franks says he was around for a while, made detective, and then quit. Went into private security. So I say, for nothing, what was his name?”
“Lutz,” Jesse said.
“You knew?”
Jesse smiled.
“No,” Jesse said, “but the way you were ready to wet yourself telling me, who else was it going to be? Rumpelstiltskin?”
“Man, you know how to ruin stuff,” Suit said.
“So you followed up,” Jesse said. “And it’s our Lutz.”
“Yes. Conrad Lutz,” Suit said. “Be some kind of coincidence if it was a different Conrad Lutz.”
“If it came to that, we could fingerprint him,” Jesse said. “He’d be on file.”
“So whaddya make of that, Jesse?”
“Good police work by you, sloppy by me,” Jesse said. “I should have asked when I called them.”
“Does this mean a salary increase for me?”
“No.”
“Even if it turns out I’ve cracked the case?” Suit said
“Puts you right at the top of the list for detective.”
“Soon as we have detectives,” Suit said.
“Right after that,” Jesse said.
Suit shrugged.
“It means Lutz lied to us,” he said.
“Or at least left stuff out,” Jesse said.
“We maybe should ask him about that?” Suit said.
“Sooner or later,” Jesse said.
“First, you want to get all your ducks in a row?”
“I’d settle for getting them herded into the same area,” Jesse said.
30
Jesse stood with Sunny Randall, leaning on the railing at the town wharf, looking down at the dark water. The day was overcast again, and the wind off the water was cooler than it should have been in May. Jesse was very aware that their shoulders touched. On her leash, Rosie sat at Sunny’s feet in her bull-terrier sit, with her rear feet splayed and her tongue out. She too appeared to be interested in the harbor.
“Where’s Jenn,” Jesse said.
“Spike’s with her,” Sunny said.
“They get along?” Jesse said.
“Sort of. Jenn seems sort of uneasy with him. But it’s hard not to like Spike.”
“You getting along?”
Sunny nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “And no, we haven’t talked about you.”
“Thought never entered,” Jesse said. “Making any progress on who did it?”
“That’s why I wanted to talk,” Sunny said. “Right after I started taking care of her, we were eating lunch and I spotted a guy who seemed to be watching us through the window. I pointed him out to Jenn, and she said no, that was not the man.”
Jesse nodded. Rosie spotted a seagull and stiffened, motionless, looking at it. The seagull went about his business.
“But the thing is,” Sunny said, “I’ve seen him twice again. The last time I saw him I tried her again and she said no, and didn’t seem to remember that I’d pointed him out before.”
Jesse stared for a while at the water moving against the stone base of the wharf. Then slowly he raised his eyes and looked across the harbor at the neck. It was still morning, and the strength of the sun out of the east made him squint even through the overcast.
“Shit,” he said after a time.
“Yes,” Sunny said.
Jesse looked up at the overcast, and rolled his neck as if to stretch out a cramp.
“Well, at least someone’s actually following her,” he said.
“Yes.”
Rosie held the seagull in her laser-like stare. The seagull had flown up on a pier piling and was staring back at Rosie.
“You ever notice that Rosie and the seagull have similar eyes?” Jesse said.
“Beady?”
“I guess,” Jesse said.
Sunny smiled.
“But soulful,” she said.
“In Rosie’s case,” Jesse said.
“Exactly.”
They were quiet. The seagull flew away. Rosie watched it briefly, then turned her blank attention to the harbor, where the gray water was calm and the upright masts of the sailboats were nearly still.
“This Walton Weeks thing is burying me,” Jesse said.
“I know. It’s okay. I’ll take care of Jenn.”
“We need to know if she actually was raped.”
“I know.”
“I can’t get away from the Weeks thing.”
“I’ll find out about the rape,” Sunny said.
“Could the stalker be someone different than the rapist?” Jesse said.
“Seems crazy,” Sunny said.
“Why would she refuse to ID him if he was the rapist?”