He felt the miasmic press of emotion that he always felt.
“Not really a year. They need it finished in December for the syndication deal.”
“Still a lot better than editing this afternoon for on air tonight,” Jesse said.
They let go of each other.
“Here,” Jenn said. “Sit in your chair. I just couldn’t wait to tell.”
Jesse sat behind his desk. Jenn took a chair on the other side.
“You need a place to stay up here?” Jesse said.
“When we worked late, I was hoping to bunk in with you.”
“That’ll work,” Jesse said.
Here was something to worry about.
“I know you’re not so sure you want to live together full time,” Jenn said.
“I’m not sure what I want,” Jesse said. “Except you . . .
exclusively.”
She nodded.
“Well, I won’t be here every night,” Jenn said.
“One night at a time,” Jesse said, and smiled. “They know you used to be married to the chief of police?”
“I think so. Truth is, I think it’s one reason I got the job.
They figure it’ll give me extra access. I mean I’m a fucking weather girl, you know?”
3 0
S E A C H A N G E
“People like you, Jenn.”
“As long as you do,” Jenn said.
“I love you.”
“Does that mean you really, really like me?”
“I think so,” Jesse said.
3 1
7
Arthur Angstrom came into Jesse’s office with a leathery gray-haired man that Jesse didn’t know.
“This is Mr. Guilfoyle,” Arthur said. “Runs a small boat rental operation out of Ned’s Cove. Says one of his boats is missing. Don’t seem like much, except for that floater, so . . .” He shrugged.
Jesse nodded.
“Thanks, Arthur,” Jesse said. “Have a seat, Mr. Guilfoyle.
Tell me about your boat.”
“A little day sailor, twelve feet long. Marconi rigged, no jib. Centerboard.”
S E A C H A N G E
Jesse nodded as if he understood, or cared.
“And when did it go missing.”
“Woman rented it from me last month,” Guilfoyle said.
“Never returned it.”
“How long did she rent it for?”
“Just the day. These boats sleep no one, you know? Nobody rents them overnight.”
“Do you have the woman’s name?” Jesse said.
“Sure,” Guilfoyle said. “I don’t pass these things out like samples. I got a credit card and a driver’s license. But the thing is, my boat is down in Nelson’s place. In among the other boats.
Nelson didn’t even know he had it, until one of the kids that works for him tried to put one of his own boats away and there was a boat in the slot. He recognized my ID number on the bow and called me. For crissake, she didn’t even clean it out.”
“What was in it?”
“Trash. Half a loaf of bread, some plastic cups, paper napkins all soaking wet, some moldy cheese, couple apple cores, empty wine bottle, some rotten grapes. Didn’t even put it in the damn bag.”
“Where was the bag from?”
“Ranch Market, in town. Like somebody bought stuff for a picnic.”
“Just lying on the floor of the boat,” Jesse said.
“Yeah.”
