Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [37]
“Dead man walking,” he said.
Then he crossed the footbridge and hurried away.
39
War Memorial Park was fairly deserted. A couple of joggers, a dog walker. Jesse sat, staring at the memorial statue. It was meant to be a postmodern version of the Winged Victory, but to his eye, it was a steel-and-concrete disaster. A waste of what he surmised had been significant funding.
Gino Fish sat next to him, also looking at the statue.
“Atrocious,” he said.
“Worse than that,” Jesse said.
“May I tell you a story, Jesse Stone,” Gino said.
“As long as it begins with ‘Once upon a time,’” Jesse said.
“It begins with a killing.”
“I don’t like killings,” Jesse said.
“This particular killing, however, brought a certain minor player out of obscurity and into the spotlight. He must have been blinded by it, because instead of retreating from it, he embraced it. He started to behave erratically. He reached for the stars, so to speak. Are you following me so far, Jesse Stone?”
“It’s hard, but I’m doing my best,” Jesse said.
“In no time, the player began to wear out his welcome. He overstepped his bounds. His friends began to shy away from him. Soon he stood alone. He had become expendable.”
“This is a very sad story,” Jesse said.
“For the player, it is.”
Gino didn’t say any more.
“Is that the end,” Jesse said.
“Almost,” Gino said.
The two men sat silently for a while, staring at the statue.
40
Jesse arrived at the junior high school and headed directly to
Eleanor Nelson’s office. He told her he wanted to interview the four Lincoln Village girls. She told him to wait in the conference room.
Once there, Jesse opened the file Molly had prepared. It contained the identities of each of the girls as well as brief descriptions of them and their families.
One by one the girls began to file in. After they were all present, Jesse closed the door and sat down at the conference table across from them.
“I’m Jesse Stone,” he said. “The police chief of Paradise. Thank you for joining me.”
He asked each of them their names. They nervously told him.
One of the girls, Julie Knoller, appeared to be the ringleader. She was pre-punk. She wore a black T-shirt and heavily studded black jeans. Her eyes were lined in black. All that was missing were the piercings, which would surely come when she was older.
“I asked you here because it has come to my attention that you have been behaving in a manner unbecoming of young ladies and have been disrespectful of the rights of other students. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“No,” Julie Knoller said.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“No.”
“Do you know a girl named Lisa Barry?”
“No,” Julie Knoller said.
“This isn’t going well,” Jesse said. None of the girls said anything.
“Let me start over,” he said. “We’re having this conversation because I didn’t want to arrest you and create a brouhaha involving your parents and the district attorney and lawyers and a whole lot of grief. This state has anti-bullying laws, which you have violated. If you continue to be uncooperative, I will arrest you and place you in the criminal justice system, and things will become much more difficult for you.”
The girls began to fidget and to exchange nervous glances with one another.
“Do you understand why we’re having this conversation,” he said to Julie Knoller.
“I guess,” she finally admitted.
“Do you know a girl named Lisa Barry?”
Julie nodded.
None of the other girls would look at Jesse.
“Did you repeatedly attack her?”
Jesse looked at one of the girls.
“What’s your name again,” he said.
“Lesly Berson,” she said.
“What have you got against Lisa Barry, Lesly?”
Lesly shrugged.
“Answer the question.”
“We didn’t like her, okay,” Lesly said.
“You didn’t like her enough to beat the crap out of her on a regular basis?”
She shrugged.
“Answer me,” Jesse said.
Lesly looked around the table at the other girls.
“We all decided that she’d be the one.”
“She’d be the one what?”
“The one we’d hammer.”
“Because?”
“She was a loser. She