Death In Paradise by Robert B. Parker Page A

moment Gino Fish came out with the good-looking young man. The young man locked the office door, and they came up the steps together and got into the backseat of the Lexus. The door closed. The Lexus pulled away from the curb.
    "You want to follow them?" Kelly said.
    "Alone?"
    "We got nobody else," Kelly said.
    "I don't want to let him know," Jesse said. "We can't tail him in one car."
    The Lexus turned up Dartmouth Street and disappeared. On the sidewalk in front of the office, Vinnie Morris fiddled with a Walkman on his belt for a moment, then put on the earphones and turned and walked up Tremont Street with his hands in his pockets.
    "You want to commit an illegal burglary?" Kelly said.
    "Not yet," Jesse said. "Place is probably alarmed."
    "Probably," Kelly said. "You got a plan?"
    "I don't want to tip him," Jesse said. "I want him conducting business as usual."
    "And?"
    "And I guess all I can do is come in every day and watch him. See what develops."
    Kelly's hands were resting on the steering wheel. He drummed his fingers for a moment.
    Kelly said, "I'll help you when I can."
    "We do and it's your collar," Jesse said.
    "Whose ever collar it is, it would be a pleasure to haul him off."
    "And, it'll be our secret," Jesse said.
    "Meaning?"
    "Meaning your captain doesn't find out you're cheating on him. And nobody else on the job knows I'm chasing Gino."
    "You think he's got a cop on his tab?" Kelly said.
    "What do you think?"
    "I think guys like Gino usually do."
    "That's what I think, too," Jesse said.

Chapter Thirty-five
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    When Jerry Snyder came out of the car dealership where he worked, Jesse, in jeans and a gray tee shirt, was leaning on the fender of the aging Ford Explorer in which he had driven east when he left L.A.
    "Whaddya want?" Snyder said. "You ain't even a cop in this town."
    "We need to talk," Jesse said.
    "I don't want to talk with you, pal."
    "Why would you?" Jesse said, and opened the door on the passenger side of the Explorer. "Get in."
    Jesse's tee shirt was not tucked in. It hung down over his belt, partially hiding the gun on his right hip.
    "Are you arresting me?"
    "Hell no," Jesse said.
    "Then I don't have to go."
    He held the door open. Another salesman walked by with a customer. Both of them looked uneasily at Jesse and Snyder.
    "Sure you don't," Jesse said. "We can talk about domestic violence right here."
    The salesman and the customer looked again and quickly away, trying to act as if they hadn't heard.
    "Jesus Christ," Snyder said.
    Jesse still held the car door open. Snyder looked around, and then at Jesse, and got into the car. Jesse closed the door and went around and got in and started the car.
    "You wanna get me fired?" Snyder said.
    Jesse didn't answer.
    "Where we going?"
    "Someplace where we can talk, and you won't get fired," Jesse said.
    "I ain't done nothing wrong," Snyder said.
    They drove south on Route 1, and crossed the Paradise town line. Jesse pulled the car off onto the little cul-de-sac near the lake where Billie Bishop had been found. He turned off the engine and took out his gun. Snyder's eyes widened.
    "Open your mouth," Jesse said.
    "What the hell are you doing?" Snyder said.
    Jesse tapped him on the upper lip with the muzzle of the handgun.
    "Open," Jesse said.
    Snyder opened his mouth and Jesse put the gun barrel into it. Jesse didn't say anything. Snyder tried to swallow. Behind them the traffic went routinely by on Route 1. The hot damp smell of the lake came in through the open windows of the Explorer. Jesse looked at Snyder without expression.
    "This is the only chance I'm going to give you," Jesse said after a time.
    Snyder was breathing in small gasps.
    "You hit your wife again and I'm going to kill you," Jesse said.
    Again Snyder tried to swallow and failed. He raised both hands in front of his chest, palms toward Jesse. Jesse held the gun steady. His face was expressionless. Below them, down the hill toward the lake, a group of insects made a keening