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Jesse sat in his office with Suitcase Simpson watching Daisy Dyke on the noon news.
“You bet I’m a lesbian,” Daisy said. “Married to a lesbian, and proud to be from Massachusetts.”
“So much for low profile,” Suit said.
The phone rang. Jesse clicked off the television. On the phone, Molly said, “Ms. Randall for you, Jesse.”
“Hold on a second,” Jesse said.
He looked at Suit.
“It’s Sunny Randall,” he said to Suit. “We’ll probably talk dirty on the phone and you’re too young.”
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
Suit shook his head.
“At your age,” he said, and stood and left the office.
“Put her on,” Jesse said to Molly.
“Shall I stay on the line?” Molly said.
“Jesus,” Jesse said. “This is like living in a frat house.”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Molly said.
In a moment he heard Sunny Randall’s voice.
“Walton Weeks?”
“Walton Fucking Weeks,” Jesse said.
“And somebody else,” Sunny said. “Are they connected?”
“Don’t know. ME is still thinking about it.”
“Are we a little busy,” she said, “up there in Paradise?”
“Actually, right now we’re marking time and fending off the press.”
“I saw Daisy Dyke on television,” Sunny said.
“Her finest hour,” Jesse said. “You’re home?”
“Yes.”
“Where you been?”
“Los Angeles,” Sunny said. “Tidying up the loose ends on the Erin Flint business.”
“Cronjager says he can tie Moon Monaghan to the killings out there.”
“Yes.”
“Buddy Bollen’s in witness protection,” Jesse said.
“I know.”
