are?”
Jesse nodded.
“Goldie’s been hanging around outside looking lost for a couple
of days,” Jesse said. “The dog officer picked him up, but he can’t
locate Kenny.”
“Last I saw they were going over to the beach together to
run.”
“When was that?” Jesse said.
“Couple nights ago.”
Jesse took an eight-by-ten photograph from the briefcase.
“I’m going to show you a picture.
It’s not gruesome, but it’s a
picture of a dead person.”
“Is it Kenny?”
“That’s what you’re going to
tell me,” Jesse said. “You
ready?”
She nodded. He held the picture out and she looked at it without
taking it, then looked away quickly and sat back.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh.”
Jesse waited.
After a moment, she nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s
Kenny.”
Jesse put the photograph away.
“What happened?” she said.
“Somebody shot him,” Jesse said.
“On Paradise Beach two nights
ago.”
“My God, why?”
“Don’t know.”
“Do you know who?” she said.
Jesse shook his head.
“Goldie,” Angie Aarons said. “He
must have been running with
Kenny on the beach and was there …”
“Probably,” Jesse said.
“And then he didn’t know what to do and he came home …
poor thing.”
“Yes,” Jesse said. “Do you have
any idea who might want to shoot
Kenny?”
“Jesus, no,” Angie said.
“What does he do?”
“Ah, he’s, ah, he’s a, you know,
stock guy, some big brokerage
in town.”
“Family?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know him
real well. I never saw any
family around.”
