The sitting area comprised a sofa, a love seat, and an overstuffed armchair, all upholstered in white silk. Spotless, too, Jesse noticed. Side cabinets and a coffee table completed the array.
Jesse sat on the sofa, and Cassidy sat opposite him on the armchair.
“Nice digs,” Jesse said.
“Thank you,” Cassidy said. “Construction was completed last fall and we moved in just after the first of the year. We’re already being mentioned in the architectural journals.”
“How nice for you.”
“I’ve never been prouder of anything in my life.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Does that include your family?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You said you’ve never been prouder of anything in your life. Does that include your family?”
“I’m not certain that I appreciate that remark, Chief Stone.”
“Jesse.”
Cassidy didn’t say anything.
“Are you more proud of the building than, say, your daughter?”
“My daughter?”
“Are you proud of Courtney?”
“Of course I’m proud of Courtney.”
“She seems to be experiencing some kind of distress.”
“She seems to be experiencing some kind of harassment. It appears to us as if you’re dogging her.”
“If that’s what you perceive, Mr. Cassidy, you’re mistaken.”
“Come off it, Chief Stone. Jesse. She’s little more than a child.”
“She’s a young adult who’s acting out some kind of cry for attention.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“Look, I didn’t come here to get into another argument with you. Courtney’s in some kind of trouble. And I don’t just mean that she broke a few laws. I’d like to see if there’s any way I can help her.”
“How about you help her by returning to your police station and finding something better to pursue than the harassment of an innocent child.”
“You don’t really get it, do you?”
“Oh, I get it, all right. I get just what you’re about.”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
“You’ve got your hand out just like they all do.”
“You think this is about extortion?”
Cassidy didn’t say anything.
“That’s what you think?”
“How much do you want,” Cassidy said.
Jesse glared at him.
“Your daughter appears to be careening into some serious trouble,” he said. “I’m not altogether convinced that either you or Mrs. Cassidy actually grasps that fact.”
Richard Cassidy stood.
“Thank you for your concern, Chief Stone,” he said. “Duly noted and appreciated. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are matters that require my immediate attention.”
Jesse stood.
He looked at Richard Cassidy for a few moments.
Then he left.
28
Jesse was sitting at his desk, silently staring out the window, when Molly came in and sat down.
“What’s wrong,” she said.
“Nothing.”
“Come on. Out with it.”
Jesse swiveled his chair around and looked at her.
“There’s nothing wrong.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“Sometimes I think it’s not worth it.”
“What’s not worth it?”
“The job. It’s not worth it.”
“Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?”
“Here I’m trying to figure out what can be done to assist this young woman . . . this child, really . . . who might just as well be standing in the middle of the street screaming ‘Help me,’ and all I get is resistance.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“Carter Hansen tells me to leave the girl alone because it’s bad for business. Aaron Silver says to lay off because her father is his biggest contributor. And the father tells me to name my price.”
“You mean he offered you a bribe?”
“Yes.”
“He actually told you to name your price?”
“He did.”
“How much did you ask for?”
Jesse looked at her.
“She nearly killed herself,” he said.
“What else?”
“That’s not enough?”
“There’s something else. I know it.”
“The water commissioner is accusing me of persecuting him and now won’t talk to me.”
“William Goodwin thinks you’re persecuting him?”
“Yes.”
“The little midget?”
“‘Little midget’ is redundant.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“And it’s escalating. For the life of me I can’t understand why. I’m telling you, Molly, it’s not worth it.”
“So you are feeling sorry for yourself.”
“It’s a thankless job.”
Molly didn’t say anything.
“Exhausting, too.”
“Why don’t you do what you always do when you’re feeling sorry for yourself?”
“What’s that?”
“Go home and drink half a bottle of scotch.”
“I don’t do that anymore.”
“So then it’s not so bad.”
Jesse looked at her.
“Time was all kinds of stuff set you off,” she said. “The job. Jenn. Yourself. You’re better now.”
Jesse shrugged.
“Don’t shrug. You are.”
“It still makes me crazy.”
“This job would make anybody crazy. But you’re good at it. You’re graced with the rare gift of compassion.
