Massachusetts,” Jesse said.
“You don’t think that would impress them?”
“It should,” Jesse said. “But sometimes it doesn’t.”
Suit dialed Healy, and when Healy came on he said, “Hold for Chief Stone,” and handed Jesse the phone.
“Hold for Chief Stone?” Healy said.
2 3 9
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
“That’s Suitcase Simpson,” Jesse said. “He amuses hell out of himself.”
“Me too,” Healy said. “Whaddya need?”
Jesse told him.
“Yeah,” Healy said. “I’ll make a couple calls.”
Jesse handed the phone back to Suit, who broke the connection and put the phone away. The Welsh corgi went by again, walking two guys this time. Lorrie stayed in her condo.
“What do you think she’s doing in there?” Suit said.
“When she’s not bopping Lutz or Hendricks.”
“Looking at the view,” Jesse said.
At three fifteen Molly called to report that Lutz had in fact returned to the Langham, where he was registered for the rest of the month.
“He was registered for the rest of the month here,” Suit said.
“You check into a hotel, they usually ask when you’re departing,” Jesse said. “You don’t know, you just give them some date down the line.”
“What happens if you check out early?”
Jesse smiled again.
“They aren’t allowed to hold you captive,” he said. 2 4 0
54
Healy didn’t know Rosa Sanchez, but he knew someone who knew her bureau commander, and her bureau commander put him in touch with the Sixth Precinct commander, who assigned her to Jesse. Rosa was a detective second grade, not very tall, quite slim, with black hair and olive skin and the lyrical hint of Hispania lurking behind her perfect English. They met her at the Sixth Precinct station house.
“According to the precinct commander,” she said as they walked out on West 10th Street, “I’m yours, as long as you need me . . . in a professional sense.”
“You the newest detective?” Jesse said.
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“Yes.”
“So you catch all the stuff like this,” Jesse said.
“I do,” she said. “You ever on the job in a big city?”
“L.A.,” Jesse said. “Robbery Homicide.”
