Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [49]
Jesse remained silent.
“The rules regarding bullying are so vague,” she said. “Did the incident occur on campus or off? Was it in-person bullying, or was it the cyberspace kind? Was it physical or psychological? I guess I’m guilty of having buried my head in the sand.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you helped open my eyes.”
“Have you discussed this with the members of the school board?”
“No.”
“Have you submitted your resignation,” Jesse said.
“I sent them a letter.”
“To which they replied?”
“They haven’t yet.”
“Perhaps you should request a meeting. To at least inform them of what you’ve told me. To make them aware of the changes which affected your job performance so dramatically.”
“What difference would that make,” Mrs. Nelson said.
“A big one. You could explain to them how things evolved and discuss ways in which they might be bettered,” Jesse said.
“Knowing what you think of me, why would you make such a suggestion?”
“Because of what you just told me.”
“Meaning?”
“I understand your situation more clearly.”
“What about separating me from my job, as you so eloquently put it?”
“People are allowed to change their minds.”
“Are you suggesting that you changed your mind, Chief Stone?”
“Jesse,” Jesse said.
“Jesse,” Mrs. Nelson said.
“I am, Mrs. Nelson.”
“Eleanor,” she said.
“Eleanor.”
Mrs. Nelson had to look away for a moment.
“Thank you, Jesse,” Mrs. Nelson said. “I believe I can convince the board to allow me to rescind my resignation and discuss these issues with me. I think I can help effectuate change.”
“Change would be good,” Jesse said.
She stood.
He stood.
She reached out her hand. He took it.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” he said.
“I will,” she said.
After Mrs. Nelson left, Jesse asked Suitcase to bring in Robert Lopresti.
“This is a surprise,” said Jesse, when Lopresti entered his office.
“I hope you’re not gonna kill me,” Robert said.
“Not just yet,” Jesse said. “Why are you here?”
“You’re the only one I can talk to,” Lopresti said.
“About what,” Jesse said.
“You were honorable with me,” Lopresti said. “You lived up to your word.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“I guess you heard that Mr. Lombardo got aced,” Lopresti said.
“Eloquently stated.”
“When I was in that room, I had the chance to do some thinking. You told me that I was one of the bad guys. I never thought of myself like that before. I got kids, you know. They missed me. My wife was never so scared as when I was being held. I got to thinking that I’d like to stop being a bad guy.”
“And you’re telling me this because . . . ?”
“Because I want you to help me.”
“You want me to help you,” Jesse said.
“Yeah.”
“Help you how?”
“I want to get a job in Paradise.”
“A job?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of job?”
“I’m a great mechanic,” Robert said. “Always have been. I just never did it legitimately.”
“Define ‘great mechanic.’ ”
“There’s nothing I don’t know about cars. I can take ’em apart and rebuild ’em. I know every part of every car. Cars are in my blood.”
“And you want me to find you a job as a mechanic,” Jesse said.
“Yeah.”
“So that you can think of yourself as a good guy?”
“So my family can be proud of me.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“My wife and my kids,” Robert said.
Jesse thought for a while.
“Let Officer Simpson know how I can reach you.”
“You think you can help?”
“Maybe.”
“I was hopin’ you would. That would be so great. Thanks, Chief Stone.”
“Jesse.”
“Yeah.”
When Lopresti left, Jesse asked Suitcase for more coffee. Then he told him to bring in the old lady.
“My name is Agatha Miller,” she said, as she sat down.
“Mrs. Miller,