The thing about the P-38 that made it different was that it had been buried in a sand dune for forty years and it had been uncovered, finally, by a historically violent sandstorm. Another thing that made it different was that the remains of the pilot, who’d apparently been killed on impact, had been found in the plane. Not only had the plane been preserved, if somewhat flattened by the weight of the dune, but so, too, had the remains of the pilot. He had been sort of mummified by the sands. It was no wonder to Jesse why he should be thinking about that long-ago bus ride and the article he’d read. The parallels were obvious enough. But there was something eating at him. Something about the article that he’d forgotten, that he wanted to remember yet just couldn’t.
By the time he’d made it home, his mind had turned back to Paradise’s own case of history delayed and his complicated feelings about Suitcase Simpson. Suit had acted with incredible valor, shielding Jameson from Dragoa with his own body. Jesse wasn’t sure he would have reacted as quickly as Suit had. So why had he been unable to bring himself to pat Suit on the shoulder for a job well done? Ozzie Smith was of no help.
“I don’t know, Wiz,” Jesse said, shaking his head at Smith’s poster. “At least I can get a reaction from Dix. I may have to pinch-hit for you next inning.”
76
When he walked into the station, he was surprised to see Molly Crane at the desk.
“What are you still doing here?”
“We’re short cops and I could use the overtime,” she said.
“That’s if I can get any overtime authorized.”
“You’ll figure something out. I have faith in you.”
“Don’t you Catholic girls believe faith is only really rewarded in the next life?”
“I can wait,” she said. “Besides, I would be climbing the walls at home, thinking about... you know.”
“Warren?”
She nodded. “About that. I think I might be able to track down his brother. I made a few calls to old friends. One thinks he might’ve moved to New York and one says at least one of Warren’s parents might be alive and down in Florida.”
“Good. Where’s Millner?”
“Not here,” Molly said.
“What do you mean he’s not here? Did a judge kick him loose?”
“He wasn’t at home. And he hasn’t been to work for two days. Hasn’t called in. He just never showed up.”
Jesse clenched. “Damn! He ran.”
“Maybe.”
“Okay. Let everyone know,” he said.
“Already done.”
“Healy know?” Jesse asked.
“First call was to him.”
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
She folded her arms and made a face. “Just one reason?”
“One or two.”
Molly said, “Al Franzen called a little while ago. He’s checking out of the hotel tonight and heading home.”
“Any news on Dragoa or his boat?”
“Still nothing.”
“I’m going to go over to the hotel.”
“I thought you might.”
Ten minutes later, Jesse was at the Whaler Lounge in the hotel with Al Franzen. Franzen ordered a frozen strawberry margarita and Jesse a Black Label neat. Franzen raised his drink to Jesse. They clinked glasses.
“To Maxie,” Jesse said.
“To my Maxie.”
When he sipped the margarita, Franzen made a sour face.
“Feh!” he said. “I hate these froufrou drinks, but my Maxie loved them. She loved drinking. She loved anything with alcohol in it.”
Jesse smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t figure you for a frozen-margarita man.”
Franzen seemed not to hear. “My Maxie... who am I kidding? She was never mine. She wasn’t the type of woman who could ever really belong to any one person. Sometimes I don’t even think she belonged to herself. I hated that about her, but I also loved her for it, too. I’m not making much sense, am I?”
“You’re making perfect sense.”
“She was such a restless woman. It’s funny, Jesse, but I can’t imagine even death could tame her.”
“I only met her once and I know exactly what you mean.”
“But now she has her girl back and the pain is over with.” He gulped the pink drink. “It is a terrible kind of pain, a grinding, gnawing pain that leaves you empty. Maxie tried to fill it up with... I’m repeating myself, aren’t I?”
“It’s okay, Al. It’s okay.”
A slender African American man in his early twenties came into the lounge and called out Al Franzen’s name. Franzen waved to him. “Over here.”
“Mr. Franzen,” he said, “your car to the airport is here. I’ll load your luggage into the trunk, if I may?”
Franzen slipped him a ten-dollar bill and told him to go ahead. When he’d gone, Franzen got off the bar stool and shook Jesse’s hand.
“Thank you, Jesse. You’ve been very good through all of this.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. Maxie was something else.”
Franzen took a step, then stopped. “I hope you find out who killed Maxie’s girl and the other girl, too. But if you don’t, I’ll understand. Maxie would understand. She knew what I told you the last time we talked. Sometimes the devil wins. It has always been so, I think.”
Jesse watched Al Franzen make his way through the lobby and vanish behind the night-colored glass of the lobby doors.
77
When Jesse stepped out of the shower the following morning it was to a chorus of ringing phones. He chose the landline because it was closest.
“Jesse Stone.”
“Morning, Jesse.”
“What’s up, Molly?”
“Two things.”
Jesse asked, “Good, bad, or mixed?”
“Good. Jameson is coming out of it, but the doctor says he’s not up for visitors yet.”
“Not even the cops?”
“Especially not with cops. He’s agitated and confused.”
“What’s the other thing?”
“I got a line on Millner,” she said.
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“A little. Then I came in early. Don’t you want to hear what I’ve got?”
“Sorry, Molly. You were saying you got a line on Millner.”
“Two nights ago he took a cab from the Swap to over by the marina.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That Millner hid out on Dragoa’s boat and then they both split after Dragoa tried to run Jameson down.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“It’s them, Jesse. It’s got to be them who killed Mary Kate, Ginny, and Warren. It’s got to be.”
“Evidence, Molly. Evidence. They look guilty, but looking isn’t being. Wake Peter Perkins up and tell him to get down to the station. Call the DA and get warrants for Dragoa’s house and property, and for Millner’s apartment and for the maintenance shed at Sacred Heart,” Jesse said, walking over to his dresser to retrieve his cell phone. He looked at the message and saw it was from Healy.
“Anything else, Jesse?”
“You believe in prayer?”