Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [32]
“I’m here to see Gino Fish,” Jesse said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Mr. Fish isn’t in.”
“And if I had an appointment?”
“Who knows.”
“What’s your name?”
“Steven. What’s yours?”
“Jesse.”
“Do you have a last name, Jesse?”
“Stone.”
“Does Mr. Fish know you?”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Because he’s not in.”
“Look, Steven, this is an old game. You say Mr. Fish isn’t in. I ask you to tell him I’m here. Again, you say he isn’t in.”
“I’m following you so far.”
“But here’s where it gets complicated, so pay close attention. My next line is: If you don’t go inside and tell Mr. Fish that I’m waiting to see him, I’m going to call the state homicide commander, who will in turn send ten squad cars packed with dozens of police personnel right to this very door.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“Can we move this along now, Steven?”
“Jesse Stone, yes?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Steven buzzed himself into Gino’s inner sanctum. Jesse meandered around the office, looking at the various paintings and sculptures that were on display there.
Steven returned.
“Mr. Fish is in,” he said.
As Jesse brushed past Steven on his way inside, he punched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Some fun, huh,” he said.
Gino was seated at his desk, thumbing through a sheaf of papers. Behind him, leaning against a wall, listening through a pair of earbuds to a minuscule iPod, stood Vinnie Morris.
Jesse approached the desk and waited. When he came to the end of a page, Gino looked up at him.
“Jesse Stone,” he said, his face breaking into a crooked grin.
“Ta-da,” Jesse said.
Jesse looked at Vinnie, who nodded to him.
“Sit down, Jesse Stone,” Gino said. “It’s so rare we have visitors to our little chapel. What brings you?”
“The force of your personality.”
“It is forceful, isn’t it? But then again, so is yours. Or at least that’s what I’m hearing.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“It’s amazing to me how deeply you manage to piss people off,” Gino said.
“It’s a gift,” Jesse said.
“One that keeps giving,” Gino said.
“Can we quit speaking in tongues, Gino? This associate of yours has become a major nuisance.”
“I’m listening.”
“He not only set up shop in my backyard, but he killed someone in the process. I sent him a warning, which he appears to have ignored. Now it’s become personal.”
“I would surmise that the feelings are mutual.”
“This stops now, Gino.”
“That may be beyond my control.”
“It’s not beyond mine.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Neutrality.”
Vinnie Morris appeared not to be listening, but Jesse knew otherwise. Vinnie met Jesse’s gaze with one of his own.
“I’m going to force the issue,” Jesse said.
“How uncharacteristic of you.”
“It may not be pretty.”
Gino took a cigar from the box on his desk. He offered one to Jesse. They both unwrapped their cigars. Jesse held his out for Gino to clip. Gino did so. He flicked his lighter and held it to Jesse’s cigar. Then he fired up his own.
The two men smoked in silence.
“You’re telling me this because . . .” Gino said.
“Because I like you.”
“I’m flattered,” Gino said.
Then he stood up and nodded to Vinnie Morris.
“It was nice seeing you, Jesse Stone,” he said.
Vinnie Morris escorted Jesse to the door. Jesse turned back to Gino.
“Thanks for the cigar,” he said.
“Don’t mention it,” Gino said.
Vinnie saw him out.
36
It was late afternoon and Jesse was nearing Paradise on his way back from Boston when his cell phone rang.
“We’ve got a hostage situation at the junior high school,” Molly said.
“Tell me,” Jesse said.
“What we know is that an eighth-grader, a girl, has taken the principal hostage. She has a gun and is threatening to shoot.”
“I’m on my way,” Jesse said.
He turned on his siren and his light bar, and pressed heavily on the accelerator.
By the time he arrived at the junior high, several members of the Paradise police force were already there. He found Suitcase at the main entrance. The two men went inside the building.
“Talk to me,” Jesse said.
“Fourteen-year-old girl,” Suit said. “She’s in Mrs. Nelson’s office with