Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [24]
“Guy killed in the carjack.”
“How would I know?”
“Because you do.”
Lopresti didn’t say anything.
“The name of Lytell’s killer,” Jesse said.
When Lopresti remained silent, Jesse stood up to leave. He walked to the door.
“Petey Marcovy,” Lopresti said.
“Russian?”
“Yeah.”
“Peter Marcovy?”
“Pyotr. P-Y-O-T-R. Everyone called him Petey,” Lopresti said.
“Also from Fall River?”
“By way of the Ukraine. You won’t find him, though.”
“What?”
“You’re not gonna find him. He’s dead.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Mr. Lombardo had him shot. Petey was a new guy. A hothead. Mr. Lombardo had enough of him.”
“More likely he didn’t want Petey identifying him,” Jesse said. “Sharks feeding on their young.”
“Yeah, well, I’m hoping that because of you they don’t start feeding on me.”
“Life’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
26
Jesse phoned Healy from the car.
“Bingo,” he said.
“Gee, and all I needed was N-thirty-five.”
“You ever hear of a connected guy called John Lombardo?”
“Not offhand.”
“Our POW gave him up. Fall River guy.”
“I’ll check it out. Don’t do anything foolish, Jesse,” Healy said. “Let me at least get the skinny on him.”
“You know where to find me,” Jesse said, and ended the call.
Jesse pulled up in front of the Town Hall and parked in the no-parking zone. He found Carter Hansen in his office, eating a brown-bagged lunch.
“May I interrupt your lunch,” Jesse said.
“If I said no?”
“I’d come in anyway.”
“Why don’t you come in, then,” Hansen said.
“I’d like to borrow the services of Alexis Richardson.”
“Excuse me?”
“You mentioned that she was adroit in the field of public relations.”
“I can’t remember ever using the word adroit.”
“Forgive me. I must have you confused with someone else. Well?”
“Well what?”
“Is she adroit in the field of public relations?”
“That would depend upon your definition of adroit.”
“This isn’t going well.”
“What is it you want, Stone?”
“I want Ms. Richardson to prepare a press release.”
“What kind of press release?”
“One advising the population of Paradise to keep their dogs inside at night.”
Hansen didn’t say anything.
“Well?”
After a moment Hansen picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“Marilyn,” he said. “Would you ask Alexis if she could step into my office for a moment?”
The two men sat in silence. Then Alexis Richardson walked in. Jesse stood.
“You remember Chief Stone, don’t you,” Hansen said.
“I might,” she said. “Chief Stone.”
“Jesse.”
“Jesse. It’s nice to see you again,” she said.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Jesse said.
“All right,” Hansen said. “We can dispense with the hooyah. Chief Stone wants you to prepare a press release for him.”
“Regarding?”
“I’d like to catch the attention of the dog-owning population of Paradise. I want to advise them to keep their dogs inside after dark.”
“Is this related to the recent dog killings,” Alexis said.
“You know about the dog killings?”
“Small town. I’d be happy to help you, Jesse. If it’s all right with you, Unc—uh, Selectman Hansen, perhaps Chief Stone could join me in my office.”
“Fine. That would be fine. Good day, Chief Stone.”
Alexis and Jesse left Hansen’s office. Once they were outside, Jesse murmured under his breath, “Good day to you, too, Uncle Carter.”
Alexis punched him on the arm.
Once in her office, Jesse closed the door. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She returned the kiss.
“I suppose doing it on your desk would be out of the question,” Jesse said.
“Only during business hours,” she said.
“About the press release,” Jesse said.
He told her how to word it. He wanted to alert the newspapers, TV and radio stations, and the alternative media. He wanted flyers printed and posted in the library, the supermarkets, the coffee shops, and especially in the pet stores and veterinarians’ offices. He didn’t want to frighten people, just make them aware of a potential danger.
She promised to attend to it immediately. She hoped to make the evening news and appear in all of the next day’s papers.
“That kiss was intriguing,” she said. “I was wondering if we might continue