Jesse finished his Pepsi and got another can. He brought the can back from the kitchen and sat back down beside Jenn on the couch.
“Maybe if I could let you go,” Jesse said, “then, maybe you could stay.”
“There are problems I need to solve, too,” Jenn said.
“Sure,” Jesse said. “But I don’t have to be one of them.”
Jenn put her hand out and pressed it against his cheek.
“The only way to have what you want is not to want it?” she said.
“Something like that.”
“And this man you shot,” Jenn said.
“Snyder.”
“He never learned that.”
“Nope.”
“And it killed him,” Jenn said.
“With a little help from me.”
Chapter Sixty-two
Suitcase Simpson called Jesse at home at 10:15 in the evening.
“I’m at the motel,” Simpson said. “Shaw’s here.”
“Is he in a room?”
“One-twelve,” Simpson said. “Just arrived. Knocked on the door and went in.”
“I’ll be up.”
“Shall I stop him if he tries to leave?” Simpson said.
“No. I want to catch him in the act.”
It was 10:40 when Jesse pulled into the parking lot of the Boundary Suites motel. He drove through the big half-empty parking lot and parked a little ways from room 112. Simpson’s pickup was two cars away. Jesse walked to it.
“He still in there?” Jesse said.
“Yes.”
“Stay put,” Jesse said.
He walked to the motel lobby and flashed his badge at the night clerk.
“Room one-twelve,” he said. “Who’s registered?”
The clerk was slim with a thin mustache and a lot of dark hair. He wore yellow-tinted aviator glasses.
“Why do you want to know?” he said.
” ‘Cause I’m the police,” Jesse said. “Gimme a name.”
The clerk tapped for a moment on his computer and then read from the screen.
“Marsha Gottlieb,” he said.
“We need to open the room.”
The desk clerk didn’t like it. But he didn’t know what else to do. So he got a key and walked down to room 112 with Jesse. As they walked, Jesse gestured to Simpson, who joined them at the door.
“Don’t knock,” Jesse said. “Just unlock the door.”
“We always knock first,” the clerk said.
“Unlock it,” Jesse said.
The clerk shrugged as if to exonerate himself, put the master key in, and unlocked the door. Jesse pushed. It opened a few inches.
“Chain lock,” Jesse said. “Do your stuff, Suit.”
Simpson put his shoulder down and lunged into the door. The screws holding the chain bolt pulled loose from the frame and the door slammed open. The lights were on. Shaw was on the bed with a young girl. Both were naked. Shaw just managed to roll off her as Jesse and Simpson came into the room. Jesse was holding his badge up. The desk clerk peered in after them.
“Beat it,” Jesse said to the clerk, and shut the door.
Simpson leaned against it.
Shaw was sitting up with a pillow over his lap to cover himself. The girl seemed frozen. There was a quart of vodka, a can of cranberry juice, some ice and two half-empty glasses on the bedside table.
“What do you want?” Shaw said.
