“ ‘Slut,’ ” he said to the cat. “What the hell does that mean, Captain?”

Chapter 20

Abby Taylor had done this before. She seemed calm as she undressed and hung her clothes up in his closet. She was careful when she wiped off her lipstick, and she was relaxed when she came to the bed and he put his arms around her. Then she gave herself to the experience. The lovemaking absorbed her. She was inventive and adroit, but most of all, he noticed even at the highest pitch that she was genuine. She pretended to nothing, and kept nothing in. She liked this. They made love for a long time and finished and lay together on their backs with her head resting in the crook of his arm.

“Whatever she didn’t like about you,” Abby said, “it couldn’t have been the sex part.”

Jesse smiled in the darkness. The sex part had been one of many things Jenn didn’t like. He wasn’t sure what all of it was that Jenn had liked or not liked. Right now she appeared to like Elliott Krueger.

“Some guy said once that war was the extension of politics,” Jesse said.

“That’s an answer?”

“Sex is probably the extension of relationship,” Jesse said.

“Why can’t it just be sex?” Abby said.

As she talked she raised her head and leaned it on her elbow; her naked body was damp with the recent effort. She seemed not to notice that she was naked. Jenn, who had always flaunted her tightly clothed body, seemed oddly ill at ease when her clothes were off . . . at least with him.

“I don’t know,” Jesse said.

“Wasn’t that what this was? A good time was had by all?”

“Yes.”

“So how does that fit with your theory?”

“We don’t have a relationship.”

“That’s cold, Jesse.”

“I didn’t mean to be,” he said.

“No, I don’t think you did,” Abby said.

“I’m just saying we don’t come to bed with any arguments to finish, you know?”

“So the key to perfect happiness is wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am?”

“Well, I don’t think I was saying that,” Jesse said.

“Oh?”

Jesse was silent for a time. He did not normally spend much time thinking about matters like this, and with her lawyer’s mind she had raced ahead of him.

“I think Jenn didn’t have sex for the pleasure of the sex,” he said. “I think she did it to start a romance or keep one going or because she was in a marriage and it was like her responsibility to have sex, you know?”

“Didn’t she like it?” Abby said.

“I don’t think she disliked it, except maybe at the end, with me. But I don’t think the question of liking or disliking really has much to do with sex for Jenn. It’s like an instrument of policy, if you follow what I’m saying.”

“Yes,” she said.

“When we were feeling good, sex was what we did to prevent us from not feeling good. When we were feeling bad, sex was the way we said we were mad.”

“That’s pretty thoughtful for a guy who recently kicked Jo Jo Genest in the balls.”

“I know. I’m a little surprised myself.”

“Still, it would be depressing to think that the longer the relationship, the worse the sex.”

“Maybe we need to research it,” Jesse said, “develop a relationship and see what happens.”

“Day at a time,” she said.

“Easy does it,” he said.

They both laughed.

“Both been to meetings, I guess,” Abby said.

“I had a little trouble acknowledging a higher power,” Jesse said.

“I don’t know you very well,” Abby said. “But why am I not surprised.”

Chapter 21

Sitting at the rustic pine conference table, under the glass-cased boat models, in his office at the bank, with the door closed, Hasty Hathaway counted the stacks of small bills that Jo Jo took from the suitcases on the floor beside the table.

“People don’t realize,” Hathaway said, “how troublesome cash is to deal with.”

“Yeah, and it’s no picnic lugging it around in suitcases,” Jo Jo said.

Hathaway nodded, his hands moving expertly among the bills.

“Lucky you’re so strong, Jo Jo.”

The counting continued. The bills were stacked and banded and put aside as Hathaway counted them.

“I started as a teller,” he said as he counted. “You never forget.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m telling you, I counted already. There’s two million three hundred and twelve thousand, eight hundred and fifty-four dollars there.”

“I have a fiduciary responsibility,” Hathaway said.

“How come you started as a teller?” Jo Jo said. “Your father owned the fucking bank.”

Hathaway smiled without answering and continued to count.

“I hear you had a dispute with Jesse,” Hathaway said. “We were surprised at the outcome.”

“Son of a bitch blindsided me,” Jo Jo said.

“It makes us worry a little,” Hathaway said, carefully slipping the band over a stack of twenty-dollar bills, paying great attention to the process, “about our judgment.”

“Don’t worry,” Jo Jo said. “He ain’t that good.”

“I hope he isn’t. He was certainly hired on the assumption that he wouldn’t be. What also concerns us is that we hope you are better than the encounter suggests.”

Jo Jo stopped taking bills from the suitcase and rose to his feet.

“You ever been kicked in the balls?” he said.

Hathaway shook his head and looked mildly contemptuous. People of his caste did not receive kicks in the balls.

“He suckered me once, he won’t do it again.”

“We hope not,” Hathaway said.

Jo Jo stood looking down at him, feeling the anger surge along his latissimus dorsi. He could pick the little twerp up and strangle him like a chicken. It annoyed him that Hathaway was not more aware of that.

“Look at me,” Jo Jo said. “Look at him, next time you see him. You think I’m not going to even it up?”

“Not directly,” Hathaway said.

“Whaddya mean?”

“He’s the chief of police,” Hathaway said.

As he spoke he continued to count.

“So fucking what?” Jo Jo said. “Anyone screws around with me, has to pay.”

“You are a valuable member of our team, and we can’t compromise the team mission for petty personal reasons.”

“Hey,” Jo Jo said. “I’m not anybody’s team, you unnerstand, I’m just me, Jo Jo. I do what I goddamned please.”

Hathaway stopped counting and looked up at Jo Jo silently with his pale blue eyes.

“We want you to avoid any confrontation with Jesse Stone,” Hathaway said.

“And maybe I do it anyway.”

Again the silence while Hathaway looked at him, and Jo Jo felt a little tingle of fear inside the protective muscle layers.

“We’ll have to insist,” Hathaway said.

Jo Jo held his look for a long moment and then shrugged and crouched and began to take money from the open suitcase. The little pussy was going to get his someday too, but there was no point arguing with him now. He was still useful. They finished the count in silence.

“I get two million, one hundred and fourteen thousand, nine hundred and five dollars,” Hathaway said when the money was counted. “Do you want to recount it?”

“Hell no,” Jo Jo said. “I’ll take your count.”

“Fine,” Hathaway said. “You get four percent?”

“Yeah.”

Hathaway tapped on a calculator for a moment.

“Eighty-four thousand, five hundred and ninety-six dollars and twenty cents,” Hathaway said. “If we’d used your count it would have been more like ninety-two thousand.”

“Don’t matter,” Jo Jo said. “Plenty more coming.”

“Fine.”

Hathaway counted out Jo Jo’s percentage.

“Keep the twenty cents, too,” Jo Jo said and laughed.

Hathaway made no response except to shrug slightly.

“Would you like that in an envelope?” Hathaway said.

“Sure.”

Hathaway folded it neatly, put it in a plain brown envelope, and handed it to Jo Jo. He put it back in one of the suitcases, picked up both of them, and started for the door.