Night Passage (A Jesse Stone Novel)

executive.”
    Jesse thought it an odd phrase to describe the selectman’s job, but he didn’t comment.
    “I had to guess, I’d guess it might be Jo Jo Genest,” Jesse said.
    “Jo Jo?”
    “I came down pretty hard on him for harassing his ex-wife a while ago.”
    “But you yourself say you deal regularly with domestic disputes.”
    “Yes.”
    “So it could be any of those people’s man or wife.”
    “Feels like Jo Jo to me.”
    “That’s pretty weak,” Hathaway said.
    “Yes it is,” Jesse said. “If it were strong I’d arrest him.”
    “But you’re still suspicious.”
    “Jo Jo’s the right kind of guy. He’d need to get even for being embarrassed in front of his ex-wife, and he wouldn’t have the cojones to do it straight on.”
    “Cohonees?”
    “Balls,” Jesse said.
    “You think Jo Jo Genest is afraid?”
    Hathaway seemed genuinely amazed.
    “Can’t always judge a book …” Jesse said.
    “No,” Hathaway said. “No. I can’t buy that at all. Jo Jo grew up in this town. If you did something to Jo Jo he might be angry. But if he were angry, God help you. He wouldn’t sneak around killing cats.”
    Jesse turned his coffee cup a little more.
    “Sure,” he said. “Probably right.”
    “And you have no other theories?”
    “No.”
    “Well, you better get some,” Hathaway said. “There was a story about it in the Standard Times last night.”
    Jesse nodded without comment.
    “It made the papers, in my view, because you sent the cat remains to the state laboratory, and they talked about it to someone.”
    “Could be,” Jesse said.
    “Isn’t it a bit preposterous to send the remains of a dead cat to the state whatever-it-is lab?”
    “Forensic,” Jesse said.
    “I’d prefer that next time you are tempted to seek outside assistance, you consult me first. Agreed?”
    “Agreed,” Jesse said without meaning it.
    “This town does not wish outsiders sharing our problems,” Hathaway said.
    “Of course,” Jesse said.
    “We handle our own business here. Part of liberty is self-reliance.”
    “You bet,” Jesse said.
    Hathaway stood and put one of his long-fingered bony hands on Jesse’s shoulder.
    “Don’t mean to come down too hard on you, Jesse. But I have a responsibility to this town. Call on me for anything you need … and let’s keep our troubles in-house.”
    “Gotcha,” Jesse said.
    Hathaway patted Jesse’s shoulder briefly and turned and left the restaurant. Jesse sat looking after him, turning his coffee cup slowly on the tabletop. I wonder what Hasty is actually worried about, Jesse thought. He looked at Hathaway’s plate. He had eaten the center of his cinnamon toast and left the crusts. Cinnamon toast, Jesse thought. Jesus Christ!

32
     
    The call from Wyoming came at nine o’clock in the morning eastern time. Jesse took it in his office.
    “I got Paradise, Massachusetts?” Charlie Buck said.
    “Yes,” Jesse said.
    “You the Chief of Police?”
    “Yes. Jesse Stone.”
    “My name’s Charlie Buck. I’m an investigator for the Campbell County Sheriff’s Department in Gillette, Wyoming.”
    “Well, you’re an early riser,” Jesse said. “What is it there, about seven?”
    “Seven oh three,” Buck said. “I’m interested in a man might have lived in Paradise at one time, man named Thomas Carson.”
    “He was the chief before me,” Jesse said.
    Buck grunted.
    “Well, he was driving a Dodge truck up along Route 59 north of Bill a while back, when it blew up and him with it. Took us this long to trace what was left.”
    “In Wyoming?”
    “Yeah, north of Bill, heading toward Gillette.”
    “You establish why it blew up?” Jesse said.
    “Bomb.”
    “So it’s a homicide.”
    “You might say so.”
    “You have any leads?”
    “We was hoping you’d be the lead. If the bomb hadn’t tossed the truck’s serial number couple hundred feet away we wouldn’t even know who he was.”
    “Considerable bomb,” Jesse said.
    “Considerable,” Buck said. “Figure it was supposed to pulverize everything so we couldn’t I.D. the victim. How long you had the job?”
    “Got hired in May,” Jesse said. “Didn’t actually start until June.”
    “You know when Carson left?”
    “Before May,” Jesse said. “Sometime in the spring, I think. Until I took over, guy named Lou Burke was acting chief.”
    “Where were you before you took this job?” Buck said.
    “L.A. Homicide.”
    Buck grunted again.
    “Might be useful,” he