Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [51]
“No. He would be going legit.”
“What’s your interest in the matter,” Gino said.
“I was approached by this young man, who claims to have developed concerns both for his own safety and for the safety of his family.”
“And you’re inquiring on his behalf?”
“I am.”
Gino was quiet.
“I can’t foresee any potential health problems for your friend. So long as he doesn’t cross paths with any of the company’s interests.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know he won’t?”
“Trust me, I know.”
“Trust you?”
“A euphemism.”
“Do I get to know your friend’s name?”
“Robert Lopresti.”
“I kind of figured,” Gino said.
“I kind of figured you’d kind of figure,” Jesse said.
“Please send my good wishes to Mr. Lopresti.”
“I shall.”
“And my altogether best wishes to you, Jesse Stone,” Gino said.
“I kind of figured that, too,” Jesse said.
54
Although Jesse ordered a neighborhood dragnet, it turned up no sign of Rollo Nurse. He seemed to have vanished.
No animal killings were reported. There were no more fires. Outwardly, Paradise regained its sense of normalcy. The police department, however, was on the highest level of alert.
Jesse returned home, weary, prepared to spend the next several days restoring the contents of his house. When he parked at the entrance to the footbridge, he discovered the Striar Brothers delivery van. The driver and his assistant were just leaving.
“The bed’s as good as new, Jesse,” the driver said. Jesse looked at him.
“Mr. Striar made certain we got it on the truck today.”
The two men waved to Jesse as they pulled away.
Jesse crossed the footbridge and went inside. He was astonished by what he saw.
The house had been completely restored. The broken, vandalized pieces were gone. New furniture had replaced the old.
In the center of the refurbished living room stood Molly, with an enormous grin on her face.
Jesse stared at her.
“I’ll be expecting something extra in my paycheck,” she said.
Jesse was quiet.
“I don’t provide this kind of service to just any bozo, you know,” she said.
Jesse still didn’t say anything.
“Shame you can’t be silent more often,” Molly said.
“This is incredible.”
“You have a lot of friends in this town, Jesse.”
“But . . .”
“I wish I had videotaped what went on here today.”
“Do you want to tell me about it,” he said.
“Can I use big words?”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Rennie’s Cleaning was here first. They salvaged what they could and carted off the rest. The merchants tripped all over themselves in an effort to replace what had been destroyed. There were so many trucks, the drivers were forced to line up and wait their turn for delivery.”
“How can I afford this,” he said.
“You won’t have to,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“The items were all deeply discounted. Tokens of how much people around here appreciate you, Jesse. Don’t ask me why.”
“I can’t accept them. I can’t take gifts,” he said.
“Board of selectmen paid for them.”
“What?”
“The board of selectmen went into emergency session, and after consulting with each merchant, they agreed to create a special fund to pay for it all. It was a unanimous vote, by the way.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
He looked around. There was a new love seat on the porch, new leather armchairs in the living room. A new TV. New dishware and glasses were in the kitchen, along with a new table, new chairs, and a new refrigerator.
Upstairs there was a new bed, new mattress, and new linens. The bedside tables and the bureau had been repaired.
Asleep on the bed was Mildred Memory.
“I’m gonna go home now,” Molly said.
“What can I say,” Jesse said.
“There aren’t words enough to thank me.”
“I’m speechless,” Jesse said.
“Take two aspirin and call me in the morning,” Molly said, as she went downstairs.
Jesse followed.
She gathered her things and headed for the newly repaired door. She turned to find Jesse standing next to her. He hugged her.
“Arghhh,” she said. “Don’t go getting all gooey on me, Jesse.”
She smiled to herself as she walked away from the house.
55
Following an uneventful night, one in which a patrol