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already knew some of the story, about the videotapes from Darnell. He told her the rest. He told her what Kelly Cruz had learned. He told her about Katie DeWolfe.

“So the bastards recruit?” Jenn said when he was finished.

“And apparently swap.”

“Tapes, too,” Jenn said, “wouldn’t you guess?”

“They probably leer at them,” Jesse said.

“Almost certainly,” Jenn said. “And, my God, what about the women on board? You know the older women? What are they?”

“Put the young ones at ease. Maybe. On the other hand, Katie says, they ‘jump right in.’”

“Jesus,” Jenn said. “You can get them both, can’t you? For statutory rape?”

“I can always do that,” Jesse said. “I want them for murder.”

“Both of them?”

“Whoever killed her,” Jesse said. “And whoever helped.

And whoever knew.”

“What if neither of them did it?” Jenn said.

“One of them did it. Maybe both.”

“You’re so sure?”

“I’m so sure.”

She continued to lie on her side, looking at him. He continued to look at the ceiling.

“If I was looking at your butt and just thinking it was a good-looking butt?” Jesse said after a while.

“That would be admiring,” Jenn said.

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“And if I also imagined holding on to your butt while we were making wild and exotic love?”

“That would be leering.”

“And is one better than the other?” Jesse said.

“Jesse, this sex case is making you crazy,” Jenn said.

“You think?”

Jenn took in a deep breath.

“I am your main fucking squeeze,” she said. “You are supposed to admire me and leer at me and feel desire and act on it.”

“Act on it?”

“Yeah, act. That too much for you, Hamlet?”

Jesse grinned at her.

“Then out swords,” he said, “and to work withal.”

“That’s not Hamlet,” Jenn said.

“Jose Ferrer said it in some movie I saw.”

“That was Cyrano de Bergerac.”

“Close enough,” Jesse said, and pressed his mouth on hers.

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36

T hanks for coming in, Mr. Ralston,” Jesse said.

Thomas Ralston’s head was shaved. He

had a deep tan. He was a little taller than Jesse. Six feet, maybe. And he was the kind of fat guy who pretends that it’s brawn. His white shirt had epaulets. It was unbuttoned halfway down his fat tan chest. He had on tan linen slacks and brown leather sandals. A gold cross on a thick chain nes-tled among the gray chest hairs. He kept his wraparound sunglasses on indoors.

“What’s this all about, Chief?” he said.

“Just routine,” Jesse said. “We’re looking into a homicide.

Woman from Fort Lauderdale named Florence Horvath.”

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“Never heard of her,” Ralston said.

“Well, that answers one question,” Jesse said. “We think she may have come off one of the yachts here for Race Week.”

Ralston shrugged.

“So, you being registered in Fort Lauderdale and all.”

“Sure,” Ralston said. “Perfectly understandable. Why do you think she fell off a yacht.”

“I didn’t say she fell,” Jesse said.

“Whatever. You got any evidence?”

Jesse took out his head shots from the Horvath video.

“Know any of these three people?” Jesse said.

Ralston studied the pictures for a time, then shook his head and handed them back.

“Don’t know any of them,” he said.

Ralston took a leather cigar case out of his shirt pocket.

“Care for a cigar, Chief?” Ralston said. “The real thing. I’d deny it in court, of course. But genuine Cuban.”

“No thank you,” Jesse said.

Ralston shrugged and began to take out a cigar.

“There’s a town ordinance against smoking on town property,” Jesse said.

Ralston paused and shook his head and then put the cigar back in the case and the case back in his pocket.

“Amazing,” he said.

“Know anyone named Katie DeWolfe?” Jessie said.

Jesse could almost hear something click shut inside Ralston. He seemed to think about the name for a moment.

Then he shook his head.

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“No,” he said. “I don’t. Why do you ask?”

“Know Harrison Darnell?”

“Darnell?” Ralston said. “Yeah. Sure. I know him a little.

Not well. Just casual, you know? Yachting isn’t that big a world. He’s on the Lady Jane, I believe.”

“Also out of Fort Lauderdale,” Jesse said.

“Oh, sure, that’s right. Of course. That’s why you’re asking. The Fort Lauderdale connection.”

“You think he might know Florence Horvath?” Jesse said.

“I just have no way to know, Chief . . . ?” Ralston looked at the nameplate on Jesse’s desk. “Jesse Stone, is it?”

Jesse nodded.

“I don’t know who Harrison Darnell knows or what he does.”

“What might he do?” Jesse said.

“I just told you I don’t know,” Ralston said. “I’m trying to be cooperative, Chief, but you seem hostile.”

Jesse nodded.

“Know anyone named Cathleen Holton?” Jesse said.

“No.”

“How about Corliss or Claudia Plum?”

“No. Who the hell are these people?”

“Mandy Morello?” Jesse said.

“No, for crissake, Chief. What’s going on here? You think I did something?”

“No,” Jesse said. “Just running through the list.”

“Well, no offense, but I’m getting tired of it. Can I leave?”

“Sure,” Jesse said. “Thanks for coming in.”

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37

K elly Cruz was in the manager’s office at the marina near the Boat Club. The manager was appropriately windblown and sun-

tanned, wearing a marina staff polo shirt and khaki shorts.

There was, Kelly Cruz noticed, a cute tattoo on his left calf.

Kelly Cruz liked tattoos in discreet moderation.

“Wow,” the manager said. “You’re pretty good-looking, for a cop.”

“I’m pretty good-looking for a person,” Kelly Cruz said.

“My name’s Kelly Cruz.”

“Bob,” the manager said.

“Do you have assigned mooring here, Bob?”

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“Sure,” the manager said. “Otherwise it’d be a free-for-all when they came in.”

“So you got a record of the mooring locations,” Kelly Cruz said.

“Course.”

The manager had thick black hair, cut short. His forearms and hands looked strong. He was wearing a nice aftershave.

“May I see them?”

“You bet,” the manager said. “Come around, we got it all on computer.”

Kelly Cruz stood beside him while he punched up the listings.

“Lookin’ for anybody special?” he said.

“Thomas Ralston.”

The manager scrolled down.

“Here we go, he owns Sea Cloud. Number 10A.”

“How about Harrison Darnell?”

The manager scrolled again.

“He should be 8A or 12A. I remember . . . yeah, 12A . . .

I remember they made a point of insisting on side-by-side moorings.”

“They registered together?”

“We don’t call it registered, Kelly. But yeah. They came in a year, year and a half ago, said they wanted to be far out, and they had to be side by side.”

“Do you know either of these gentlemen, Bob?”

“Nope. Just saw them when they contracted the moorings.”

“Do you know why they wanted to be side by side?”

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“Nope.”

“A guess?”

“Party together, I suppose. Two boats are better than one?”

“Two of most things are better than one,” Kelly Cruz said.

“Absolutely, Detective Kelly Cruz.”

“Kelly’s my first name.”

Bob grinned at her.

“I figured you weren’t Irish,” he said.

She smiled.

“You know anything interesting about either of these guys?” she said.