“Like what?”
“Like maybe not introduce yourself as Daisy Dyke, for instance.”
“I like that name. I’m proud of it.”
“No reason not to be. But it makes a nice headline, and reporters got space to fill.”
“Even though I don’t know nothing about the murder.”
“Even though,” Jesse said.
“Fuck them,” Daisy said.
“Good point,” Jesse said.
Daisy went to the front door and opened it and said, “Hey, scumbags, there’s a dead body out back of the restaurant.”
The reporters looked up. Daisy jerked a thumb toward the rear of the building.
“In the Dumpster,” she said.
Then she took a small sign off the inside doorknob and put it on the outside and shut the door. The sign said CLOSED.
10
Jesse sat in his office with Suitcase Simpson watching Daisy Dyke on the noon news.
“You bet I’m a lesbian,” Daisy said. “Married to a lesbian, and proud to be from Massachusetts.”
“So much for low profile,” Suit said.
The phone rang. Jesse clicked off the television.
On the phone, Molly said, “Ms. Randall for you, Jesse.”
“Hold on a second,” Jesse said.
He looked at Suit.
“It’s Sunny Randall,” he said to Suit. “We’ll probably talk dirty on the phone and you’re too young.”
Suit shook his head.
“At your age,” he said, and stood and left the office.
“Put her on,” Jesse said to Molly.
“Shall I stay on the line?” Molly said.
“Jesus,” Jesse said. “This is like living in a frat house.”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Molly said.
In a moment he heard Sunny Randall’s voice.
“Walton Weeks?”
“Walton Fucking Weeks,” Jesse said.
“And somebody else,” Sunny said. “Are they connected?”
“Don’t know. ME is still thinking about it.”
“Are we a little busy,” she said, “up there in Paradise?”
“Actually, right now we’re marking time and fending off the press.”
“I saw Daisy Dyke on television,” Sunny said.
“Her finest hour,” Jesse said. “You’re home?”
“Yes.”
“Where you been?”
“Los Angeles,” Sunny said. “Tidying up the loose ends on the Erin Flint business.”
“Cronjager says he can tie Moon Monaghan to the killings out there.”
“Yes.”
“Buddy Bollen’s in witness protection,” Jesse said.
“I know.”
“You see your agent friend?” Jesse said.
“Tony Gault? I did.”
“You go shopping with him?”
“On Rodeo Drive?” Sunny said.
Jesse said, “Yeah.”
“Maybe in the Jere Jillian boutique?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe in the fitting room?” she said.
Sunny’s voice seemed to develop overtones as she talked.
“Uh-huh.”
“No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m the chief of police, I gather information.”
“We aren’t going steady, are we?” Sunny said.
“Not quite,” Jesse said.
“We could,” Sunny said.
“You bet,” Jesse said.
“As soon as you’re clear of Jenn, and I’m clear of Richie.”
“Right after that,” Jesse said.
“Still,” Sunny said. “We might wish to relive some of those golden moments from the fitting room at Jere Jillian.”
“We do wish to do that,” Jesse said.
“I’ll come up tonight,” Sunny said. “About seven?”
“Should we have a drink first?”
“Oh, you civilized devil,” Sunny said. “You’re not going to jump me in the living room?”
“Probably not,” Jesse said. “Bring Rosie.”
“Of course,” Sunny said. “I’m pretty sure I love you.”
“Better than Richie?”
“Oops,” Sunny said.
“Yeah. And then there’s Jenn.”
“Oops again,” Sunny said.
They were quiet for a moment, listening to nothing on the phone line between them.
“Doesn’t mean we won’t have a nice night,” Sunny said.
“No,” Jesse said. “It doesn’t.”
“One night at a time,” Sunny said.
11
“Late night?” Molly said.
Jesse nodded.
“How’s Sunny,” Molly said.
She was sitting with Jesse in his office, a notebook open in her lap.
“Very good,” Jesse said.
“I like her,” Molly said.
“Me too,” Jesse said.
“You want my opinion on the two of you?”
“No.”
“I think you’d be perfect together,” Molly said.
“What’s in your notebook?” Jesse said.
Molly smiled, mostly to herself, and looked down at her notebook.
“ME found some interesting stuff,” Molly said.
Jesse waited.
“They’ll have a formal report for us later,” Molly said, “but here’s what they know now.”
Jesse waited.
“Aren’t you even going to say, ‘What? What?’” Molly said.
Jesse looked at her.
“Okay,” she said. “First off, the bullets that killed her match the ones that killed Weeks.”
Jesse nodded.
“Second off, she was ten weeks pregnant.”
Jesse nodded again.
“Third off,” Molly said, “they did a DNA match. Weeks was the father.”
“That all?” Jesse said.
“You bastard,” Molly said. “No, that’s not all. Fourth off, she was killed about the same time Weeks was.”
“With the same gun,” Jesse said. “While carrying his child.”
“Perhaps the crimes are related,” Molly said.
“Good thinking,” Jesse said. “They have an ID on her?”
“No. Fingerprints aren’t in the system.”
“Or they are and the system lost them,” Jesse said.
“Wow, that’s cynical.”
“I been doing this for a while,” Jesse said.
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Jesse. You’re not much older than I am,” Molly said.
“But a lot uglier,” Jesse said.
“True,” Molly said. “I called the Langham. They tell me Weeks had a one-bedroom suite and two other rooms.”
“Who was in the other rooms?”
“Lutz the bodyguard,” Molly said. “And a woman named Carey Longley.”
“Get the bodyguard in here,” Jesse said.
“He’s coming in today,” Molly said.
“Okay, get some pictures of her from Peter Perkins. We’ll see if Lutz knows her.”
“She doesn’t look so good,” Molly said.
“It’s as good as she’s going to,” Jesse said.
Molly nodded. She closed her notebook and stood and walked to the door. With her hand on the knob, she stopped and turned and looked at him.
“You know I love you, Jesse.”
“As much as your husband and four kids?” Jesse said.
“No. But you’re next.”
Jesse smiled.
“Close enough,” he said.
“You deserve Sunny Randall,” Molly said.
“Not Jenn?” Jesse said.
“You deserve to be happy.”
“And you don’t think Jenn will make me happy?”
“How’s it been going so far,” Molly said.
Jesse nodded slowly.
“Of course, you can tell me to mind my own business,” Molly said.
“Mind your own business.”
“No,” Molly said.
She smiled at him and opened the door.
“I won’t,” she said, and went out.
12
Jesse was eating a ham-and-cheese sandwich on light rye when Molly came in.
“Lutz is here,” Molly said.