Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [25]
“I’d have to check my schedule,” he said.
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Should I bring Chinese?”
“There’s an idea,” Jesse said.
27
In the morning, after Alexis had left, Jesse went about his chores, which included feeding the cat. By now an uneasy truce had developed between them. The cat would sit on the love seat, watching as Jesse put out the food. It appeared ready to leap at the slightest provocation. Jesse would pretend to ignore it.
But on this morning, as Jesse was setting out a bowl of wet cat food, the cat jumped from the love seat and began rubbing itself against Jesse’s legs, its tail standing straight up, shimmying.
Jesse reached down and ran his hand over the cat’s back. It rubbed itself against him even harder. This went on for several moments, until the cat emitted a throaty croak. It then approached the dish and crouched down to eat.
Jesse smiled.
By the time he reached the office, there had been three calls regarding strangled dogs.
He was sitting in his office, surrounded by Molly Crane, Rich Bauer, Steve Lesnick, and Arthur Angstrom. Everyone but Molly was eating a donut.
“I want to establish a night patrol,” Jesse said. “I want two units on duty from ten p.m. to six a.m. Unmarked vehicles. Divide the town in half. One half per unit. Circle each half constantly, randomly, always on the lookout for something that appears strange.”
“Who’s gonna man these patrols,” Molly said.
“Rich will be in charge. He’ll take the lead vehicle. I want summer hires in the second.”
“What are we supposed to do if we do notice anything strange,” Bauer said.
“Bust it,” Jesse said.
“You mean make an arrest, Skipper,” Bauer said. “Uh, Jesse,” he quickly added.
“Correct.”
“What if we’re wrong?”
“Better to be safe than sorry,” Jesse said. “If a mistake is made, so be it.”
“When do you want this to start,” Molly said.
“Tonight.”
The phone rang, and Molly went to her desk to answer it.
She called out to Jesse.
“Captain Healy on two,” she said.
Jesse looked at her.
“What happened to ‘I’ll try it,’” Jesse said.
“Try what,” Molly said.
“The intercom.”
“I forgot.”
“You didn’t forget,” Jesse said.
“Are you suggesting that I purposely refused to use the intercom?”
“I am.”
“Some nerve,” she said.
The others filed out of his office as Jesse picked up the call.
“Jesse,” he said.
“John Lombardo,” Healy said. “Interesting fellow. Definitely on the come. He appears to be connected to Gino Fish. My OC guys tell me he did a number of small jobs for Gino and has since graduated to more important stuff.”
“Such as?”
“He was linked to the construction rackets in the southern part of the state. In the Fall River area. We have reason to believe he may have done some wet work there. He seems to have recently moved to the Boston area. He drew attention making collections involving a few high rollers who had reneged on their obligations.”
“Which entailed?”
“In one instance, it entailed death. Which appeared enough to frighten the other recalcitrants into paying up,” Healy said.
“Is there anything to link him to automobile theft?”
“Not here. At least not yet. But he does have a track record in Fall River, which could indicate that he might be a person of interest.”
“Any idea where he can be found?”
“We’re still working on that.”
“You’ll let me know when you have something?”
“Top of my list.”
“That’s hopeful.”
“This guy is the real deal, Jesse. He’s lethal, and he’s not afraid to let people know it. He’s making a name for himself.”
“Mr. Lombardo may be misguided if he thinks he can put that name up in lights here in Paradise,” Jesse said.
“He probably doesn’t know that.”
“He will.”
28
Rollo sensed the change. First there were the stories in the newspapers. On the TV. Then the flyers in the stores. He knew it was time.
That night, carrying a small bag that he had earlier prepared, Rollo headed for Paradise Harbor. He melted into the shadows whenever he saw headlights. He had already noticed that the streets were now being patrolled. He took extra