High Profile

“Nope,” Suit said, “but they’ll always have the White Marsh Mall.”

He went to the coffeemaker on top of Jesse’s file cabinet and poured some coffee, added sugar and nondairy creamer, and took a sip.

“How old were the kids,” Jesse said.

“Little kids, you know, eight, ten years old, maybe. I don’t know much about kids.”

Suit drank some coffee.

“Anything else?” Jesse said.

“Well, yeah, a little something,” Suit said.

Jesse waited. Suit drank another swallow of coffee.

“On the ride back to the station,” Suit said, “Franks and I were, you know, talking, and I asked him what happened to the arresting officer, you know, the guy busted Weeks. And Franks says he was around for a while, made detective, and then quit. Went into private security. So I say, for nothing, what was his name?”

“Lutz,” Jesse said.

“You knew?”

Jesse smiled.

“No,” Jesse said, “but the way you were ready to wet yourself telling me, who else was it going to be? Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Man, you know how to ruin stuff,” Suit said.

“So you followed up,” Jesse said. “And it’s our Lutz.”

“Yes. Conrad Lutz,” Suit said. “Be some kind of coincidence if it was a different Conrad Lutz.”

“If it came to that, we could fingerprint him,” Jesse said. “He’d be on file.”

“So whaddya make of that, Jesse?”

“Good police work by you, sloppy by me,” Jesse said. “I should have asked when I called them.”

“Does this mean a salary increase for me?”

“No.”

“Even if it turns out I’ve cracked the case?” Suit said

“Puts you right at the top of the list for detective.”

“Soon as we have detectives,” Suit said.

“Right after that,” Jesse said.

Suit shrugged.

“It means Lutz lied to us,” he said.

“Or at least left stuff out,” Jesse said.

“We maybe should ask him about that?” Suit said.

“Sooner or later,” Jesse said.

“First, you want to get all your ducks in a row?”

“I’d settle for getting them herded into the same area,” Jesse said.

30

Jesse stood with Sunny Randall, leaning on the railing at the town wharf, looking down at the dark water. The day was overcast again, and the wind off the water was cooler than it should have been in May. Jesse was very aware that their shoulders touched. On her leash, Rosie sat at Sunny’s feet in her bull-terrier sit, with her rear feet splayed and her tongue out. She too appeared to be interested in the harbor.

“Where’s Jenn,” Jesse said.

“Spike’s with her,” Sunny said.

“They get along?” Jesse said.

“Sort of. Jenn seems sort of uneasy with him. But it’s hard not to like Spike.”

“You getting along?”

Sunny nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “And no, we haven’t talked about you.”

“Thought never entered,” Jesse said. “Making any progress on who did it?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk,” Sunny said. “Right after I started taking care of her, we were eating lunch and I spotted a guy who seemed to be watching us through the window. I pointed him out to Jenn, and she said no, that was not the man.”

Jesse nodded. Rosie spotted a seagull and stiffened, motionless, looking at it. The seagull went about his business.

“But the thing is,” Sunny said, “I’ve seen him twice again. The last time I saw him I tried her again and she said no, and didn’t seem to remember that I’d pointed him out before.”

Jesse stared for a while at the water moving against the stone base of the wharf. Then slowly he raised his eyes and looked across the harbor at the neck. It was still morning, and the strength of the sun out of the east made him squint even through the overcast.

“Shit,” he said after a time.

“Yes,” Sunny said.

Jesse looked up at the overcast, and rolled his neck as if to stretch out a cramp.

“Well, at least someone’s actually following her,” he said.

“Yes.”

Rosie held the seagull in her laser-like stare. The seagull had flown up on a pier piling and was staring back at Rosie.

“You ever notice that Rosie and the seagull have similar eyes?” Jesse said.

“Beady?”

“I guess,” Jesse said.

Sunny smiled.

“But soulful,” she said.

“In Rosie’s case,” Jesse said.

“Exactly.”

They were quiet. The seagull flew away. Rosie watched it briefly, then turned her blank attention to the harbor, where the gray water was calm and the upright masts of the sailboats were nearly still.

“This Walton Weeks thing is burying me,” Jesse said.

“I know. It’s okay. I’ll take care of Jenn.”

“We need to know if she actually was raped.”

“I know.”

“I can’t get away from the Weeks thing.”

“I’ll find out about the rape,” Sunny said.

“Could the stalker be someone different than the rapist?” Jesse said.

“Seems crazy,” Sunny said.

“Why would she refuse to ID him if he was the rapist?”

Sunny was looking at the harbor, too.

“Don’t know,” she said.

“Didn’t she tell us the rapist was stalking her?”

“She told you that,” Sunny said.

“And she told me she didn’t know him before the rape.”

“Yes.”

“But that she recognized him as the rapist when he was stalking her.”

“Yes,” Sunny said.

“Any sign of anyone else stalking her?”

“No.”

“You have a plan?” Jesse said.

“Spike and I have been discussing one,” Sunny said.

“We want her safe,” Jesse said. “But we want him for the rape, too.”