Killing the Blues - Michael Brandman [54]
“You noticed?”
“I did.”
“Well, maybe today is an off day.”
“An off day?”
“The once-a-year ‘don’t bust Jesse’s chops’ day,” Molly said.
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“You should be grateful,” she said.
Jesse watched her leave.
He phoned Robert Lopresti.
“Have you got a pencil handy,” he said, when Robert answered.
“Jesse?”
“Yep.”
“I just got one.”
“Paper?”
“That, too.”
Jesse gave him Hasty’s number.
“When you meet with him, try to be impressive,” Jesse said.
“I’m always impressive,” Robert said.
“Not that anyone would notice.”
“You noticed.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“Enough to put me up for the job.”
“I hope you get it, Robert.”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Please do.”
“Thanks for this, Jesse.”
“Don’t mention it.”
58
The first thing Rollo saw was the patrol car with two officers inside. It was parked near the entrance to the footbridge, which made it impossible for him to gain easy access to Jesse’s house.
The only way to bypass the car unnoticed was to swim. He thought about that for a while. He had his shoulder bag with him, in which he had placed several cans of lighter fluid. He was carrying a throwaway lighter in his pocket. He would have to keep them dry. His duffel wasn’t waterproof, and he hadn’t thought to bring any plastic bags.
He could attack the occupants of the patrol car, but he didn’t like his odds. He decided to swim.
He walked away from the footbridge, crossed a rocky promontory, and made his way to the water’s edge, which was out of sight of the patrol car. Once there, he took off his clothes, folded them and placed them inside the duffel. He would try to hug the shoreline as much as possible, holding the bag high above his head in order to prevent it from getting wet.
He entered the water. It was startlingly cold.
The floor of the bay was rocky. There was very little sand. Walking was difficult. He submerged and, holding the duffel above the water, he started to paddle.
He made his way into deeper water. The cold rattled his bones. He swam as best he could while holding the bag out of the water. The going was slow, but he made steady progress, and he soon rounded the curve in the shoreline and was approaching the far side of the house.
He inched his way to the water’s edge and, stepping over the stones, came ashore.
He was frozen. He shook the water off as best he could. He had no towel. He put his clothes on. They absorbed the wet but didn’t dry him. Cold and miserable, he headed for the back of the house. The only consolation for his discomfort was the knowledge that he would soon be triumphant.
Jesse lay down on the bed and turned on the old-movie channel. He had grown to like the oldies better than the new ones. He was settling in to watch Henry Fonda and Barbara Stanwyck in the Preston Sturges classic The Lady Eve when he heard a loud knocking on his door.
Has to be one of the patrol-car cops wanting to use the bathroom, he surmised.
He put the TV on mute and went downstairs. He stopped in the kitchen to grab his Colt and walked to the door.
When he opened it, he discovered Alexis Richardson standing there. She looked at him demurely and held up a sack of Chinese takeout.
“Déjà vu all over again,” Jesse said.
“You gonna invite me in,” Alexis said.
“I’m thinking about it,” he said.
“What’s with the gun,” she said.
“I’m a cop,” Jesse said.
She looked at him.
Then he stepped aside, and she swept past him into the house. He accompanied her to the kitchen, where he took the food from her and placed it on the counter, along with his Colt.
“To what do I owe the honor,” he said.
“I wanted to properly thank you for rescuing me.”
“Rescuing you?”
“From the clutches of the rabid mob.”
“What rabid mob?”
“The disappointed concertgoing mob.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
They looked at each other for a long moment.
“I’m thinking vodka,” she said.
“With tonic, right?”
She smiled at him.
He fixed the drink for her, then excused himself for a moment in order to go upstairs to turn off the TV.
She wandered into the living room.