“No. I’m just looking for help.”
Joni Shaw was sitting on the couch across from Jesse, with one leg on the couch so that he could see the inside of her thigh. She sipped her coffee, looking at Jesse over the rim of her cup.
“Aren’t we all,” she said.
Jesse waited. Joni Shaw let him wait.
“Gino Fish?” Jesse said after he had waited long enough.
“You may remember that about five years ago one of Norman’s books was being made into a movie, here, in Boston.”
Jesse nodded as if he remembered. Five years ago he’d been in L.A., on the cops, still with Jenn.
“Norman was an executive producer on the movie. He didn’t really have to do anything, it was just a title, extra money. Gino used to visit the set. He knew some of the crew. Then when we had some trouble with the union, Gino was very helpful.”
“How nice,” Jesse said.
Without leaving the couch, Joni Shaw leaned forward and poured him some more coffee. Very flexible.
“Oh,” Joni said, “I don’t doubt that Gino has done some terrible things. But he’s a very interesting person.”
Jesse nodded.
“I try to make my own judgments of people,” Joni said, “and so does Norman. Gino has been very nice to us, and good fun at a party.”
“So he’s become a friend?”
“I guess you could say that,” Joni Shaw said. “Not perhaps the first circle of intimacy, but certainly more than just an acquaintance.”
She made “first circle of intimacy” sound seductive.
“Do you know anyone named Bishop?” Jesse said.
“I don’t think so. Is he involved in your case?”
“When’s the last time you saw Gino?” Jesse said.
“Oh… two, no, three, weeks ago. In fact he was at the party where you were going to arrest us.”
“Anyone with him?”
Joni smiled.
“A very good-looking young man,” she said.
“And, I wasn’t going to arrest you,” Jesse said.
Joni Shaw drank a small sip of her coffee, holding the cup in both hands, like in a television commercial, and looking at Jesse.
“Oh, well,” she said. “Can’t blame a girl for hoping.”
Chapter Thirty-four
Jesse sat beside Brian Kelly with the windows open in an unmarked gray Ford that belonged to the Boston Police Department. They were a half block up Tremont Street from Development Associates of Boston. It was a hot, clear, day.
“OCU got no surveillance on Gino Fish?” Jesse said.
“Nope. He’s down the list,” Kelly said.
“How come?” Jesse said.
“Everything in his part of the city is quiet,” Kelly said. “Commissioner likes it.”
“How come it’s so quiet?”
“Gino’s a good administrator,” Kelly said. “There’s not much street crime on Gino’s turf. Commissioner hates street crime.”
Jesse looked at the brick-and-brownstone rehab that was spread over the South End like brocade.
“Doesn’t look like a street-crime neighborhood.”
“It isn’t anymore.”
“And Gino cleaned it up?”
“Not really. Economics did that. But Gino keeps it that way,” Kelly said. “Him and Vinnie.”
“So I guess you people aren’t going to be a big help.”
“Can’t give you manpower. Happy to offer advice.”
“Why should you be different,” Jesse said.
“You spare anybody?”
