Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [41]
“You bet I am.”
Reagan flashed Jesse a smile. Then he said, “Are you thinking you might want to bring charges against the principal?”
“I might be.”
“Why?”
“She should be held accountable. She behaved unconscionably.”
“You think she broke the law?”
“That’s a lawyer question, not a policeman question,” Jesse said.
“Was there anything else?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you want to give me a hint?”
“There’s a likelihood of sexual misconduct on the part of one of the junior high teachers.”
“A likelihood?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re investigating this likelihood,” Reagan said.
“Yes.”
Reagan sat thinking for several moments.
“Get me the information. I’ll work with you on this, Jesse.”
“Thanks, Marty,” Jesse said, as he stood up. “It’s always a pleasure.”
The assistant district attorney stood and reached for Jesse’s hand.
“Carole keeps asking when we’re going to see you. It’s been too long.”
“It has. Let me get the season under way. This one promises to be a doozy.”
“A doozy?”
“Pretty much.”
Jesse was waiting when Stuart Tauber left the junior high school in the late afternoon. Tauber was headed for the parking lot when Jesse intercepted him.
“Mr. Tauber,” he said.
Tauber slowed and looked at Jesse. He was soft and overweight, which he tried to conceal behind a houndstooth jacket and baggy slacks. He was pasty-faced, with thinning hair. His eyes darted this way and that, avoiding contact with Jesse’s.
“Yes,” he said.
“Have you got a moment,” Jesse said.
“Only just,” Tauber said. “What can I do for you?”
“Jesse Stone,” Jesse said.
He didn’t extend his hand.
“I know who you are,” Tauber said. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Oh,” Jesse said. “What reputation is that?”
“Your serious alcohol-related issues.”
“And you know about that because . . .”
“Let’s just say that people in a small town have a tendency to talk.”
“So that’s it, then? That’s the talk? My whole reputation?”
“That’s not enough,” Tauber said.
“What about the good stuff?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The good stuff. Isn’t any good stuff a part of my reputation?”
“I heard you had a smart mouth. Is this an example of it?”
“I don’t think you like me, Mr. Tauber.”
“For the record, no, I don’t like you or what you stand for.”
“For the record,” Jesse said.
“Was there something you wanted to see me about, Chief Stone?”
“Actually, there was.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“I wanted to see who you were.”
“Because?”
“Because your reputation precedes you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you know what it means.”
“I think this conversation is over,” Tauber said, as he started to walk away.
“You’re in my sights, Tauber.”
“Is that some kind of threat, Stone?”
“It is what it is,” Jesse said.
“You keep away from me,” Tauber said.
“Is that some kind of threat, Tauber?”
“I’m a respected member of the education community,” Tauber said. “I don’t take kindly to harassment.”
“Harassment ?”
“You heard me.”
“You’ve only just begun to hear me, Mr. Tauber,” Jesse said.
“Keep away from me, Stone,” Tauber said. He hurried off.
Jesse watched him go.
44
It’s a girl,” Jesse said.
“Excuse me,” Alexis said.
“The cat. It’s a girl.”
They were sitting on Jesse’s porch. The cat was asleep on her lap. Alexis was sipping a vodka and lemonade; Jesse a scotch. They were contemplating dinner.
“Mildred Memory,” Jesse said.
“What,” Alexis said.
“That’s what I named her. Mildred Memory.”
“What kind of name is that?”
“It was the name of my favorite high school teacher.”
“Mildred Memory?”
“Yes.”
“So how exactly will you address the cat?”
“As Mildred Memory.”
“You mean you’ll say things like ‘Here, Mildred Memory.’ ”
“Exactly.”
“Doesn’t that seem a bit eccentric?”
“Not to us,” said Jesse.
“Us?”
“Mildred Memory and me.”
Alexis sipped her drink and didn’t say anything.
Jesse didn’t say anything.
Mildred Memory didn’t say anything.
“I’ve booked my first festival,” Alexis said.
“You have,” Jesse said.
“Fourth of July weekend.”
“And Uncle Carter