“Given the strain between the sisters, I doubt we could count on any relatives for ID. I’ll talk to the ME and the town attorney about handling it through dental records. You got those, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good work. See, I said it again. Does that count toward my six-month quota?”
“You’re a funny man, Jesse Stone.”
“I’m a man of many charms.”
“Charm? Ha!”
There was a click and a two-note electronic tone denoting that the call had ended.
24
Jesse finally relaxed as he drove down the road leading to his house. He didn’t even mind the rain-battered FOR SALE sign swinging in the wind at the edge of his property. It usually ate at him, the fact that he hadn’t gotten a reasonable offer for the place since he put it on the market. He had wanted to move back into town before Diana’s murder. Now his desire to be less isolated was even more intense.
His moment of relaxation was short-lived. In spite of Jesse’s thirst and his sofa’s siren song, they would have to wait. Tamara Elkin’s Jeep was parked in front of his house. This far outside of town, the ME’s presence was no coincidence. Whether or not he could make any sense of what had happened, or, more accurately, what hadn’t happened, between them didn’t matter. Jesse, his windbreaker collar up against the rain, got out of his Explorer, rapped a knuckle on Tamara’s driver’s-side window, and nodded for her to come inside. He didn’t wait for her.
Jesse didn’t bother taking off his windbreaker. Instead he went straight to the bar and poured two Black Labels, his with soda, Tamara’s with one ice cube. He raised his glass to Ozzie and took a big swallow. Ozzie didn’t seem interested in damning or consoling. Jesse was putting more scotch in his glass when he heard the front door close and the deadbolt click.
Tamara came into the room, her tangled hair hanging damp and long over her shoulders. On his drive back from Boston, Jesse had gone over some things he might say to Tamara the next time they were together. He just hadn’t anticipated the next time coming around so soon.
He held her drink out to her, but she didn’t take it.
“No, thank you, Jesse,” she said. “I don’t think I’m up for it.”
Jesse shrugged and put her glass down.
“This about last night?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
He took another sip. “What’s the point in doing that?”
“No point, I suppose.”
Tamara, like Jesse, had been distracted during the day, imagining what she might say and how she might say it. One of the reasons she hadn’t gone through with things last night was that she hated the thought of any awkwardness between them. They had always been so comfortable together. And yet neither of them seemed capable of actually saying something meaningful for the awkwardness. Jesse filled the emptiness by pouring Tamara’s untouched drink into his glass. That seemed to be the spark she needed.
“Jesse, sit down,” she said, pulling the drink out of his hand.
He wasn’t sure he liked that, but he sat down on the sofa.
“There’s always been an ‘us,’ I think, from the day we met, even if that ‘us’ existed only in my own head and heart. Even when Diana was still alive, I thought of the two of us as a pair, not like a couple, exactly... I don’t know. I meant it when I said I was never anybody’s Miss Right and I don’t want to be, but I thought that two loners like us, we might be able to be something more than friends and less than... that we were good together. This isn’t coming out right.”
“Say what you’ve got to say.”
“I used to dream about being with you.”
“Then why didn’t you—”
“I don’t know, maybe because I’m a fool.”
“You’re a lot of things, Doc, but a fool isn’t one of them.”
“Then because lovers have always been easy to come by for me. I’ve never had trouble getting men in my bed, but I’ve never had a lot of friends. I’ve never had any like you.”
He laughed. “Not sure how to take that.”
“As a compliment, you ass.” She shook her head at him. “I guess I’m not willing to risk what we have. Because no matter what you might say, I’d be your rebound girl and that’s how you would think of me. I don’t think I could stand that.”
“But last night doesn’t have to mean anything more than it was. We can go back to what we were, you showing up at my door and drinking, talking.”
“You see, Jesse, I don’t think we can go back. I don’t want to.”
“But you just said—”
“Last night when you kissed me, I think it kind of woke me up. It made me realize some things.”
“Like?”
“Like I’m not willing to let you drink yourself to death anymore. At least, I’m not willing to be part of it anymore. After what happened to Diana, sure, I understood your drinking. Hell, I was over here half the time drinking with you. All of us understood how you felt and we were willing to look the other way. But not me, at least not from now on. If I was willing to give up sleeping with you to save our friendship, I sure am willing to give up drinking with you.”
“You done?”
“Almost.”
“What else?”
“Just because I passed up my opportunity doesn’t mean I can’t get a little jealous. I heard about that woman who was in your office the morning of Suit’s wedding. I heard she’d make Venus green with envy.”
“Bella Lawton,” Jesse said, smiling. “How’d you know about her?”
“I have my sources.” She leaned over and kissed Jesse on the cheek. “I’m heading out now that I’ve had my say. Oh, I almost forgot. It’s definite. Maude Cain died of a myocardial infarction, a heart attack, plain and simple. I can’t say the stress of what they did to her induced it, but it sure didn’t help.”
25
After stopping at the donut shop for coffee, Jesse took a detour away from the station and backtracked the few short blocks to Berkshire Street. He had taken a quick look at the reports from Molly, Alisha, and Gabe Weathers after they had spoken to the residents living on Maude Cain’s block. It had netted them very little information. But canvassing, knocking on doors and talking to neighbors, was real police work. More cases got closed with worn soles and bruised knuckles than by DNA or deduction. The thing was, Jesse had learned that it often paid dividends to knock on the same doors more than once. That people weren’t robots, they were imperfect, and sometimes, with a few days for their minds to focus on other matters, they would recall things they had forgotten or give you information they weren’t even aware they had.
There were dangers in it, too. The human mind is a curious thing and it can conflate events or even create memories to fit scenarios according to what it’s heard or read. It isn’t malicious or intentional, and Jesse accounted for the possibility. One of the ways he protected against it was to catch people off guard. That’s why he was standing on the porch of 20 Berkshire Street at seven a.m., his finger pressed to the doorbell. Unlike Maude Cain’s house, which was directly across the street, 20 Berkshire was well maintained and updated. It was a pumpkin-orange and forest-green farmhouse, Victorian without much of the fussiness of the more elaborate Victorians up on the Bluffs.
Jesse backed his finger off the bell, knowing that when the door was eventually answered, the person on the other side wouldn’t be very happy. He was right about that.