“So I don’t have to wrestle with gender guilt,” Jesse said.
“You have enough to wrestle with,” Marcy said, “without worrying about basic differences between the sexes.”
Jesse raised his glass.
“Vive la difference,”he said.
Marcy smiled.
“I’ll drink to that,” she said.
They looked at their menus quietly for a time.
“What’s bothersome,” Jesse said, “is that even in normal men, whatever that quite means, there’s never enough.”
“You mean no matter how many women you see naked, you want to see another one?”
Marcy said.
“Or the same one again.”
“That’s probably why he takes the pictures,” Marcy said.
“Maybe,” Jesse said. “It also suggests that he’ll keep going.”
“And that’s what you’re worried about,” Marcy said.
“Yep.”
“It is sort of crazy, isn’t it,” Marcy said. “Lot of men like to take pictures of wives and girl-friends.”
“Whom they’ve often seen naked,” Jesse said.
“And will again.”
“Maybe it’s not exactly about the nudity,” Jesse said.
“Even if it isn’t,” Marcy said, “how does that help you?”
“I don’t know,” Jesse said. “I just figure the more I understand about him, the better chance I have to get him.”
“It would probably be even more helpful if you knew what, exactly, it is about,” Marcy said.
“Sooner or later,” Jesse said.
“You really believe that?”
“Have to,” Jesse said, “to keep being a cop. I know better, but I still have to believe that if I keep looking at it and turning it around and rolling around on it, eventually I’ll come up with something.”
“To be the kind of cop you are,” Marcy said.
Jesse shrugged.
“Anybody take pictures of you?”
“Sure,” Marcy said.
Jesse smiled.
“Got any on you?” he said.
“No,” Marcy said. “But perhaps later this evening there’ll be a photo op.”
“I was hopeful,” Jesse said.
33
SUIT BROUGHT Kimberly Clark into Jesse’s office.
“Kim Clark,” he said. “Jesse Stone.”
They said hello and Kim Clark sat in a chair in front of Jesse’s desk. Suit looked at Jesse.
“On your way out,” Jesse said to him, “ask Molly to step in.”
Suit nodded and left. Kim Clark looked after him. Molly came in.
“Molly Crane,” Jesse said. “Kim Clark.”
They said hello. Kim was a smallish woman, neat figure, too much dark hair, about forty.
Jesse could see her daughter in her.
“I saw both of you at the school,” Kim Clark said. “That business with Mrs. Ingersoll.”
Jesse nodded.
“I’ve asked Molly to join us, as I do whenever I’m talking with a woman in my office,” Jesse said. “Unless you object.”
“I have no objection,” Kim Clark said.
“This is a first-name police department,” Jesse said. “I’m Jesse. She’s Molly, and I hope we may call you Kim.”
“Of course,” Kim said. “Why am I here?”
