The police boat from the town wharf nosed around the ragged jut which marked the end of the harbor, and pushed through the hard morning chop toward the base of the cliff.
Jesse could see Suitcase Simpson and two men in wet suits.
The light was pale in the early morning and the late-fall sun gave a weak yellow light, and no warmth. The wind off the ocean was strong and cold.
The boat steered in as close as it could to the surf line below the cliffs, and the two men in wet suits went over and into the black water.‘ It took them almost ten minutes to work their way to the dead man, bumping against the boulders, facedown in the seafoam. One of the divers attached a line, and with the two divers steering the body, Suitcase reeled it in toward the boat. The body bumped against the side of the police boat and flopped inhumanly as Suitcase and the two divers got it in over the gunwales and laid it faceup on board.
“Is it LouT‘ Jesse yelled, but
his voice was lost in the wind and surf sound. He could see Simpson looking up at him. Simpson yelled, but Jesse could not hear him. Jesse cupped his hands as if making a megaphone, and Simpson went into the cabin and came out with the bullhorn.
“I think it’s Lou,”
Simpson yelled, his voice amplifio and dehumanized by the bullhorn.
“He’s been banginl around down here for a while and it’s hard to tell.”
Jesse nodded and gave Simpson a thumbs-up and’t police boat swung in an arc away from the foot of the cliff opened the engines, and roared, with the east-wind behin it now back around the point toward the town wharf.
“See what you can do here,” Jesse
said to Peter Perkin He got into his cruiser, set the blue light flashing, a headed for the town wharf. There was barely anyone the road at 6:10 in the.morning and he had no need of siren. I really can pick’em, he thought as he drove throul the old town with its narrow streets and narrower sidewall and narrow old houses built fight up against them. Thy homicides in a year. Towns like this you’re supposed get about one a career. He thought about Jenn for a in ment, and then he was there. He could see the police b slow now as it passed through the ‘boats’ winter-moored the harbor. He got out of the car with the wind pushing him. Seagulls were roosting on the tops of pilings and alo the edge of the big town float. He went into the wharf offi and poured himself some coffee and drank it with Crem{ and sugar while he waited for Simpson and the body.
still had some left when the boat docked against the and he was still sipping it when he stepped over the g wales of the police boat and squatted on his heels nex the sodden corpse. -
“You’re fight,” Jesse
said to Simpson. “It’s kind hard to say who it is.
You find any I.D. on him?”
Simpson looked like he might he a little seasick.
“0 we got him in the boat,” he said, “I didn’t touch him.
Jesse nodded. He rolled the body over and found pants pockets and with some trouble got a soaked wallet out He opened it.
“It’s Lou’s
wallet,” Jesse said.
“Jesus,” Simpson said.
The two divers and the boat captain looked elaborately elsewhere.
“Yeah,” Jesse said.
“We’ll get a positive I.D. from the M.E., I guess.
But it sure seems to be Lou.”
“Why’d you suspend him,
Jesse?” I’ll tell you about it later,“
Jesse said.
“Did you really suspect him of
murder?”
“Later, Suit.”
“Yeah, sure, Jesse. Lou didn’t
seem the type, you think?”
“I don’t know if there is a
type,” Jesse said. “But if there is, no, Lou didn’t seem to be it.”
“I guess there’s a lot we
don’t know yet,” Simpson said.
“Yes,” Jesse said,
“there sure as hell is.”
· the pretty young man who worked for Gino Fish.
“Mr. Fish asked me to tell you that the product you asked for is now available.”
