Sea Change

“A woman wearing silk underwear would know,” Molly said.

Jesse grinned.

“Depends who bought the underwear,” he said.

“Still, odds are it would be a plastic surgeon. I can make some calls.”

“Sure,” Jesse said. “If we’re lucky, maybe she did them around here.”

“Of course,” Molly said. “She could have driven here from Grand Junction, Colorado, and parked on the Neck someplace and jumped in.”

“Except we haven’t found any abandoned vehicles,” Jesse said.

“Or someone was with her and threw her in and drove away.”

“Or she’s a space alien,” Jesse said.

“Or, just shut up,” Molly said.

“I am the chief law enforcement officer of Paradise, Massachusetts,” Jesse said. “And your chief. Surely you can be more respectful than that.”

2 3

R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

“Of course,” Molly said. “I’m sorry . . . shut up, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Are they all through with her?” Molly said.

“The coroner? No, this is a preliminary report. They’re still poking around.”

“Ick,” Molly said.

“Cops don’t say ‘ick.’ ”

Molly laughed and leaned over the desk and kissed Jesse on the forehead.

“Do cops do that?” Molly said.

“Oh yeah,” Jesse said, “most of them.”

The phone rang again and Molly answered, “Paradise Police,” while Jesse took the coroner’s report back to his office.

2 4

5

D ix always looked so clean, Jesse thought. His white shirts were always brilliant white.

His head gleamed as if he had just shaved it, and his face glistened with aftershave.

“Jenn asked me the other day if it bothered me about her being with other men.”

Dix nodded. He sat with his elbows on the arms of his chair, his hands clasped chest high. They were big square competent hands.

“I said it did.”

“You wanna talk about that?” Dix said.

“Yes.”

R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

“Whaddya want to say?”

“I, well, I mean I hate it,” Jesse said. “But that doesn’t seem too weird.”

“Hate it that she was with other men?”

“Them having sex,” Jesse said.

Dix nodded. Neither of them said anything. Dix’s desk was completely empty except for a phone and a calendar pad.

His degrees were on the wall, and there was a couch, which Jesse had never used, against the wall behind him.

“Does it bother you to think of them talking intimately, laughing together, sharing a joke, enjoying a meal, watching a ball game?”

“Sure. Isn’t it, to use a nice shrink word, appropriate, to be jealous when your wife’s cheating on you?” Jesse said.

“It is certainly human,” Dix said. “Is it with the same in-tensity that you think of her having sex?”

“No.”

“Is she cheating on you now?”

“No. Right now we’re good.”

“So?” Dix said.

Jesse started to speak and stopped and sat. Dix was quiet.

“I can’t seem to let it go,” Jesse said.