“The ends are frayed,” Jesse said.
“Two of them are mine,” Doc said. “I had to cut it loose from the cinder blocks.”
“I see that. The other ends are starting to unravel. Means he probably cut it at the time he used it, and didn’t have time to melt the cut end.”
“Or he was in the water,” Simpson said, “and the matches were wet.”
There was one small shoe tangled in the rope.
“Looks like the one she was wearing,” Jesse said. “We’ll get a size match.”
It was the first time either Simpson or Angstrom had seen one of the shoes. Neither had looked at her when she came out of the water.
“Penny loafer,” Angstrom said. “I got three daughters and none of them had any penny loafers.”
“A retro girl,” Jesse said.
“You need me anymore, Jesse?” Doc said.
“No. Thank you. Send me a bill, and I’ll buck it over to the town clerk.”
Doc left. Jesse stood and went around his desk and squatted on his heels and looked at the cinder blocks. They were still damp.
“New,” Jesse said. “Arthur, now that you’ve brought law and order to Paradise Neck, go around to hardware stores and lumber yards and see if anyone bought two cinder blocks and some nylon rope in the last month or so.”
“In what area?”
“North shore,” Jesse said. “To start.”
“Lot of people buy rope and cinder block.”
“Yeah, but how many buy two cinder blocks and some rope at the same time?”
“You think the guy was that stupid?” Simpson said.
“Maybe. And maybe he used a credit card,” Jesse said.
“That would be amazingly stupid,” Simpson said.
“We can hope,” Jesse said.
Chapter Ten
Jesse wasn’t in uniform when he walked into Swampscott High School. He wore jeans and a blue blazer and a white shirt with the collar open. Summer school was in session and kids with bad grades, or bad attitudes, or overzealous parents, were in their classrooms. Jesse felt the old feeling as he walked along the empty corridor. He had always disliked school. Had always thought it full of cant and nonsense. And in his adulthood, he was sometimes startled at how early in life he’d been right.
In the outer office, at her desk, behind her computer, guarding the principal’s gate, was a portly woman with a tight gray perm and a long blue dress. She looked at Jesse as if he’d just been loitering in the hall.
“Jesse Stone?” he said. “For Lilly Summers?”
“Do you have an appointment with Doctor Summers?” the guardian said. She underscored the “Doctor.”
“I do.”
“Regarding what?”
Jesse took out his badge holder and flipped it open. The guardian craned her neck at it as if it were too small to see.
“Are you with the police?” she said.
“I am.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wait here.”
Jesse smiled as the guardian lumbered into the principal’s office. She’ll keep me waiting longer than she needs to, he thought. Make sure I know that Dr. Summers is important. It took almost five minutes for the guardian to deliver the fact of Jesse’s presence and for Dr. Summers to agree that, in fact, Stone had an appointment. Finally the guardian came out and left Dr. Summers’s door open and frowned at Jesse and stood aside. Given her heft, she had to stand a good distance aside for Jesse to get by.
Inside, Dr. Summers stood and put out her hand. She was a slender woman with a young face and silver hair. Jesse wondered if she was older than she looked, or if her silver hair was premature. He decided she was young, and the hair made her look distinguished. If she were older she’d color her hair to look younger.
“Jesse Stone,” he said.
“Sit down, Mr. Stone,” she said. “You’re with the Paradise Police?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s something…” She looked distressed. “About a murder?”
