“Just a suburban mom waiting to
see the guidance counselor.”
“Hey,” Molly said.
“I’m not old enough to have kids in high school.”
“Vanity, vanity,” Jesse said.
“Cops can be vain,” Molly said.
“Sure,” Jesse said.
“You’re thinking especially if
they’re female, aren’t
you?”
Jesse leaned back in his chair and put his hands up.
He said, “I don’t have a sexist bone in my body, cutie
pie.”
“Anyway,” Molly said,
“I’ve lived in this town my whole life.
I’ll get them ID’d.”
“Okay, as long as you keep the kid in mind.”
“Candace?”
“Yes.”
“Hard to investigate a crime without anyone knowing it,” Molly
said. “For crissake, we can’t even talk to the victim.”
Jesse smiled. “Hard, we do at once,” he said. “Impossible takes
a little longer.”
“Oh God,” Molly said, “spare
me.”
Jesse grinned. “Just be careful of
Candace,” he
said.
“You’re very soft-hearted,
Jesse.”
“Sometimes,” he said.
12
Kenneth Eisley’s former wife had resurrected her maiden name,
which was Erickson. She worked as a corporate trainer at a company called Prometheus Plus, which was located in an office park in Woburn, and Jesse talked to her there, sitting in a chair made of silver tubing across from her desk. The desk too was made of silver tubing, with a glass top.
“Do you have any idea why someone might kill your former
husband?” Jesse said.
Christine Erickson laughed briefly and without amusement.
“Other than for being a jerk?” she said.
“Was he enough of a jerk to get himself shot?”
“Not that kind of jerk,” she said.
“He was a harmless
jerk.”
“Such as?” Jesse said.
“He thought it was important, I mean he actually thought it was
seriously important, who won the Super Bowl.”
“Everybody knows it’s the World Series that matters,” Jesse
said.
Christine looked blankly at Jesse for a moment. Jesse smiled.
Her demeanor was calm enough, Jesse noticed, but her movements seemed tight and angular.
“Oh,” she said.
“You’re kidding.”
