Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [19]
“Good morning,” Jesse said. “You’re welcome to stand down from the wall and sit if you like.”
Lopresti lowered his hands. He continued to stand. He looked at Jesse.
“I know who you are,” he said.
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Why am I here?”
“You’re being held,” Jesse said.
“I realize that. Why?”
“You have something I want.”
“Which is?”
“Information.”
“What information?”
“The identity and whereabouts of your employer.”
“And if I don’t provide that information?”
“Then you’ll continue to be held,” Jesse said.
“And if I do provide the information?”
“Once it’s verified, you’ll be released.”
“So I’m a hostage.”
“I’d rather think of you as a prisoner of war.”
“A prisoner of war?”
“Mob war. You know, the good guys versus the bad guys. In case you didn’t realize it, you’re one of the bad guys. Captured while engaging in an act of war.”
“And you’re prepared to hold me indefinitely?”
“No.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There might come a time when I determine that holding you is fruitless. I sincerely hope that time never comes.”
Lopresti didn’t say anything.
“How this goes down depends entirely on you, Mr. Lopresti. If you don’t wish to share the information with me now, I’ll leave. But it’s important for you to understand that there’s a clock ticking on this circumstance, and I’m not a patient man.”
Lopresti remained silent.
“Do you have family?”
Lopresti nodded.
“Kids?”
Again, Lopresti nodded.
“It would be awful for them if they never heard from you again. Or learned of your fate. I sympathize with them. But allow me to make this absolutely clear to you. If you continue to defy me, the consequences will be lethal.”
Jesse stood and walked to the door, which Perkins opened. He stepped out of the room, and the door closed behind him. The only sound was that of the dead bolts being relocked.
“What’s next,” Perkins said.
“We’ll give him a little time to cogitate.”
“Cogitate,” Suitcase said.
“You could look it up,” Jesse said.
He left the safe house and drove away.
21
Molly stuck her head into Jesse’s office, saw him at his desk, then walked in and sat down.
“You’ve had phone calls from Captain Healy and Lucy Jameson.”
“Who’s Lucy Jameson?”
“You don’t know?”
“Would I be asking if I did?”
“There goes my five bucks.”
“Excuse me?”
“I bet Suitcase she was your current squeeze.”
Jesse stared at her.
“Taking recent history into consideration, it wasn’t a bad bet,” Molly said. “She said she’d call again.”
“Did she say what it was about?”
“No. She seemed upset. We thought it was because you’d dumped her.”
“Was there anything else?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Molly stood, sighed, and strolled out of Jesse’s office.
Jesse called Healy.
“Do you have anything on a pair of lowlifes from Fall River named Santino Valazza and Robert Lopresti,” he said.
“And good morning to you, too.”
“Robert Lopresti and Santino Valazza.”
“Santino as in Sonny Corleone?”
“Nice existential leap.”
“I’m trying to live down the dolt sobriquet.”
“Sobriquet?”
“Guy can’t try too hard.”
“Valazza and Lopresti.”
“Does this have something to do with what I think it has to do with?”
“Elliptical, aren’t we.”
“Might take me a while. I’m the state homicide commander, and I do have work of my own.”
“You do?”
“Some. But I’ve put your name at the top of my to-do list.”
“Gee, I had no idea the homicide commander kept such a list.”
“He doesn’t. I lied. I’ll get back to you.”
Jesse hung up and sat back in his chair.
“It’s Lucy Jameson,” Molly said. “Line two.”
Jesse answered the call.
“Jesse Stone,” he said.
“Chief Stone. Lucy Jameson. I wanted you to know that some son of a bitch killed my Rufus. Snapped his neck like it was a pretzel.”
“And Rufus would be . . .”
“My dog.”
“Oh,” Jesse said. “When did this happen, Ms. Jameson?”
“Lucy.”
“When did this happen, Lucy?”
“Last night. I found him this morning.”
“Have you any idea who might have done it? A neighbor? An enemy? Anyone?”
“Rufus did his share of barking, I will say that. But folks