Sea Change

a bed-5 6

S E A C H A N G E

room. Or at least a place with a bed. There was a hint of decorative brass. The room looked small. Could be a boat.

When the tape had finished, Jesse said, “Okay, Peter, you’re the evidence specialist. Take the tape and get some head shots made of the guys. May as well get one of Florence, too. It’s better than her license photo.”

“Guys at the lab will love this,” Perkins said.

“Just make sure it comes back,” Jesse said.

“You don’t think they’ll make a dupe?”

“Of course they will,” Jesse said. “But I want the original in our case folder.”

“Yessir.”

Perkins started to remove the tape from the VCR.

“Leave it,” Jesse said. “I’ll give it to you after lunch.”

“Gotta look for more clues, Jesse?”

“Chief Jesse to you, pal. Go relieve Molly on the desk. Tell her I want to see her in my office.”

Perkins saluted and the cops filed out. Jesse took the tape and went in his office. In a moment Molly came in. Jesse put the tape into the office VCR.

“You know how to run this?” Jesse said.

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll start it and leave.”

Molly nodded. Jesse punched up the tape and went out.

He closed the office door behind him and leaned on the wall near it. He smiled to himself. Porn guard.

When Molly came out she said, “That was disgusting.”

5 7

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

“Yes,” Jesse said. “It was.”

“Did the guys like it?”

Jesse shrugged.

“They pretended to. In fact, I think they probably found it a little disgusting, too.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“You going to get head shots made?”

“Peter Perkins is going to take care of it,” Jesse said.

Molly nodded. “Thanks for letting me watch it alone,” she said.

Jesse shrugged.

“You’re a nicer guy than most people know,” Molly said.

Jesse smiled at her. “Let’s not let that get around,” he said.

5 8

14

W hen Jesse went to meet Jenn for lunch she was finishing a long Steadicam walk-and-talk the length of the town pier with the sail-dappled harbor in the background. Jesse walked down and stopped beside Marty the producer. She picked up a pair of earphones that were hanging on the back of a fold-ing chair and handed them to Jesse. He put them on. He could hear Jenn.

“What draws them here,” she was saying. “What brings them from all over the Atlantic coast to converge here . . . in Paradise . . . for Race Week.”

The director who had been staring at the monitor yelled R O B E R T B . P A R K E R

“Cut.” And as Jenn looked up at him with her hands on her hips, he yelled, “Keeper.” Jenn nodded as if to say It better be, and came up the dock toward Jesse. He applauded silently as she came. When she reached him, Jenn kissed him.

“I smell Emmy,” Jesse said.

“You smell something,” Jenn said and took his hand. “I’m sick of the Gull. Is there someplace else? Quick? Good?”

“We could walk up to Daisy’s,” Jesse said. “They bake all their own bread.”

“Let’s,” Jenn said.

“So what does draw them?” Jesse said as they walked up Washington Street. “Top-flight police work?”

“Probably that,” Jenn said. “And a full month of booze and sex.”

“Anybody sail?” Jesse said.