Molly.
“Call Fort Lauderdale,” Jesse said. “Tell them we have a body that might be this woman, see what they got on her, or S E A C H A N G E
what they can get. Dental records would be good. Then call the bank that issued this credit card and see what you can get—history of purchases this month and so forth.”
“I know you’ll explain this to me later,” Molly said.
“Being chief means never having to explain,” Jesse said.
“Might mean making your own coffee every morning, too,” Molly said.
“I’ll explain this to you later,” Jesse said.
Molly turned to the switchboard. Jesse went back to his office and looked in the phone book. There was only one Horvath listed in Paradise. He called. There was no one there named Florence, nor did they know anyone named Florence. He called the Florida Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles, waded through a long menu of options, finally got someone in enforcement and arranged to have some blowups of Florence Horvath’s driver’s license photograph sent to Paradise. The he got up and went into the squad room where Peter Perkins was drinking a Diet Pepsi and reading the
“You get through with the sports page,” Jesse said, “see if you can scan this license picture into the computer and send it over to Forensics. Ask them if it could be the floater.”
“Condition of the body,” Perkins said, “I don’t think they can tell much.”
“Ask them if anything here rules Florence out.”
“Okay, Jess,” Perkins said and folded the paper and put it on the conference table. “You’re the chief.”
“Yes I am,” Jesse said.
3 7
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
In the hall outside the squad room he saw Suitcase Simpson come in herding three college-aged kids, all of whom were drunk.
“I want a lawyah,” a blond kid kept saying. “I got right to a lawyah.”
“What’s up,” Jesse said. “A riot in day care?”
“They were pissing in the watering trough in the town common,” Simpson said.
“Put them in a cell,” Jesse said, “and call their parents to come get them.”
One of the kids was wearing plaid shorts and a muscle shirt he was too skinny to sustain.
“What charge,” he said. “Can’t lock us with no charge.”
“Inadequate potty training,” Jesse said. “Go on down there with Officer Simpson, and when you get sick try to puke in the hopper.”
Simpson herded them ahead of him toward the cell corridor. They were saying they weren’t drunk. There was no need to call their parents. They were being picked on for being kids. This was harassment. There was a mention of police brutality, then the door to the cell corridor closed and shut it off.
As Jesse walked past the desk, Molly said, “Fort Lauderdale says they’ll send a patrol car over to check on the address, and they’ll see what they can find on her. Like who her dentist is, or was. Bank will send us a copy of her last statement, and a printout of the credit card charges for the period since the statement.”
3 8
S E A C H A N G E
“Thank you,” Jesse said. “You ever piss in a watering trough?”
“That what Suit busted them for?”
“Yep.”
“I am a mother and a wife, and an Irish Catholic,” Molly said. “I don’t piss at all.”
3 9
9
T hey were eating pepper and mushroom pizza at the little table on Jesse’s balcony, with the strong salt sea smell of the harbor drifting pleasantly around them on the soft July air. Jenn had a glass of red wine. Jesse was drinking a Coke.
“When we’re together,” Jesse said, “what do you feel coming from me.”
“I feel strong vibes that I should undress and lie down,”
Jenn said.
“Really?”
Jenn was about to bite the point off a pizza slice. She stopped and looked at him with the pizza poised in front of her.
S E A C H A N G E
“You’re serious, aren’t you,” she said.
“Yes.”
Jenn put the pizza slice back on the plate.
“Well, I . . . you know I don’t think much about stuff like that,” she said.
“I been talking with Dix about it,” Jesse said. “I need help with it.”
