"Belson thinks it was Macklin."

"Says he knows it was. Says a snitch he trusts told him off the record. But he could never come up with anything other than the snitch's word, and the snitch wouldn't testify."

"Scared of Macklin?"

"Terrified, Belson says. And even if he wasn't, it wouldn't be enough. It's hearsay."

"Why's he so sure it's Macklin?"

"He was in the area. They've established that. He's living good with no visible means. Weapon was a nine-millimeter handgun.

Not a rarity, but Macklin's gun of choice. And, Belson says, it's Macklin's style. He doesn't mind killing people. Back as far as Belson can trace him, he's solved his problems by shooting them.

Doesn't seem to bother him at all."

"Belson know anything about Wilson Cromartie?"

"No."

"Anything about Faye what's-her-last-name?"

Suitcase checked his notebook.

"Valentine," he said.

"Just that he knows that she's been with him a long time."

"Odd a guy like that is faithful," Jesse said.

"Maybe he ain't," Suitcase said.

"Maybe she is."

Suitcase was getting older every day, Jesse thought.

"Belson got any thoughts on what Macklin might be doing in Paradise?"

"Nothing legal. Belson's been chasing him for years, says he knows him better than he knows his wife. Says he's a crook because he's good at it and he likes the hours, but also because he's a thrill junkie."

Jesse nodded.

"Sorta like you said about him flirting with you," Suitcase said.

"Sort of," Jesse said.

"Belson says anything he'd be happy to help anyway he can."

Jesse nodded.

"And he said another thing," Suitcase looked a little uneasy and braced himself with a mouthful of Boston cream donut.

"He said if we got a chance to arrest Macklin and he were, ah, killed resisting, that wouldn't be a bad thing. He said it would be a very efficient thing."

Suitcase took another bite of donut.

"He asked me to tell you that too," Suitcase said.

"Sounds like Macklin has been his hobby too long," Jesse said.

"I asked him if it was personal," Suitcase said.

"And he looked kind of mad when I asked him, but all he said was that one of the hostages Macklin killed was twenty-two years old and pregnant."

Jesse nodded and finished his coffee.

"Well," Jesse said, "we'll keep it in mind."

FORTY-SIX.

When he got back to the station, Molly was waiting for him.

"Talk, lesse, alone?"

"Sure."

They went into his office and closed thl door. Molly was carrying a small notebook.

"You tell your ex-wife about Mrs. Hopkins trying to get you fired?" Molly said.

"Christ, what did she do?" Jesse said.

Molly smiled without any pleasure.

"She assaulted Mrs. Hopkins."

Jesse leaned back in his chair and stared at Molly without speaking. He was thrilled that Jenn cared enough about him to do that. He was annoyed that he would have to deal with it. He was depressed that Jenn was still so far out of control that she would assault someone. He was amused at the image of her in full assault.

"Where is she now?" Jesse said.

"Down the hall," Molly said.

"Cell number one."

Jesse nodded slowly. Molly couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Tell me about it," he said.

"Well," Molly said.

"Kay Hopkins at the women's Republican breakfast at the Village Room. She was supposed to give a report on her committee's findings about citizen participation in town government. It was in The Shopper's News, maybe that's where Jenn saw it. Anyway, she shows up. And when Kay Hopkins gets up to give her report, Jenn gets up and says," Molly looked down at her notes,"

"Before you give your report, maybe you ought to explain to these ladies why you are interfering with the police department in the performance of its lawful duties."" Jesse leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"

"Lawful duties,"

" he said softly.

Molly was still reading from her notes.

"And Kay Hopkins says, "The chair has not recognized you.

Please sit down and be quiet."" "Uh-oh!" Jesse said softly.

"You got that right," Molly said.

"Jenn calls her a bitch. Mrs.

Hopkins says something like "How dare you talk to me that way?"

And Jenn marches up and whacks her across the face and everybody starts screaming and pushing and shoving and people are trying to help Mrs. Hopkins and somebody calls us. Peter Perkins was there because he was in the nearest cruiser, and when he got there he saw it was a woman and asked me to come."

"And?"

Molly tried to control a smile.

"And it wasn't a pretty sight. Jenn had torn most of Mrs. Hopkins' blouse off and given her a bloody nose. Mrs. Hopkins has got blood all over her skirt and her bra, which looked, may I add, as if it had been laundered a couple times too often. Jenn's got blood all over her blouse. As far as I know she's not hurt. It's Hopkins' blood, I'm pretty sure. There were two or three women trying to hold onto Jenn, who was kicking people and, as I arrived, was actually head-butting Gertrude Richardson, who's the chairwoman or whatever they call her. Peter Perkins wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do and looked so grateful when I showed up. I thought he was going to kiss me."