“What do you think,” he said.

“Some homemade patriot group,” Morris said.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because the only contact they got is a jerk like Jo Jo.”

Fish nodded.

“And the only contact he has is us,” Fish said. “Do you have any idea how to arm a regiment?”

“Not a clue,” Morris said.

“Do you have any contact with international arms dealers?”

“Piece I’m carrying I bought from a guy named Ralph,” Morris said. “On Dorchester Ave.”

“Do you suppose he could arm a regiment?”

“Ralph works out of his car.”

“Yes, of course,” Fish said. “Very efficient.”

“I could ask around,” Morris said.

“Um hmm.”

Fish seemed to be thinking of something else. Morris looked at him and came as close to smiling as he ever got.

“Or you could figure out a way to skin them,” he said.

Fish didn’t answer for a time, as if he had to finish a thought and return to the subject at hand.

“If they wish to give us their money,” he said finally, “I see no reason why we shouldn’t encourage them in that course.”

Chapter 34

Tammy didn’t really like to see him with his clothes off. He was stringy, the sparse hair on his chest was white, and there were small wrinkles inside the bend of his elbow. He didn’t look at all rich and powerful. In fact he didn’t look anywhere near as good as Bobby had, and Bobby had been a loser for sure.

“Come to bed,” she said.

And she was glad when he got in bed and was under the covers. He always got under the covers. The first time they had done it and he got under the covers she had almost laughed. Would he wear pajamas next time? With feet on them?

He put his arms around her and clamped his mouth against hers. She had to help him a bit, as she always did, to get it up, but as soon as it was up he rolled over on top of her and proceeded. While he was on her he whispered how much he loved her and called her his darling. He was through before she was even aroused. And like always he rolled off her and lay on his back beside her silently, with the covers up to his chin. Still, it didn’t take him long, and there were other men, Saturday-night men, who would give her excitement.

“If you love me so much,” she said, “how come you don’t get rid of your wife and marry me?”

“I can’t do that,” he said. “We’ve been married twenty-seven years. I’m the leading figure in the town.”

“But you know she’s fucking other men,” Tammy said.

“You know I don’t like you to talk that way about my wife,” he said.

“Well, it’s the god’s truth,” Tammy said.

“We . . . have . . . our understanding,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Tammy said. “And where does that leave me.”

“I give you money,” he said. “I buy you things. We have our time together every week.”

“Yeah, you sneak in here and bang me, and sneak out. You know what that makes me feel like?”

“Tammy, please, we’ve had this talk before.”

“Well, we’re having it again. I deserve more than that. I deserve to be out of the damn closet here. I deserve to be married and going to the Yacht Club with you, instead of her.”

“God, no,” he said.

“God, yes,” Tammy said. She sat up in bed, and the motion pulled the bedclothes nearly off him. He struggled to keep covered. “I mean it. I got a right to be more than your whore once a week. I want to live in that house. I want to go to the Yacht Club dances and run a table at the Harvest Fair and have an account at Saks. I want you to marry me.”

“It’s not possible,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll make it possible,” Tammy said.

She was angry, and she felt strong when she was angry. Her anger had always worked with Bobby, and when she got angry enough it had driven him from the house. What a loser Bobby was.

“You will?” he said.

The anger was working with him too. He was very meek.

“If I have to. I’ll go public with this. I’ll tell your wife, I’ll tell everybody. You’ll have to marry me just to shut me up.”

“Don’t do that,” he said.

His voice was so quiet. She almost smiled. Men were easy. Bobby had been strong as a blacksmith and all she had to do was get mad and he caved right in. Now it was working again. There he was with his money and his position and he was as meek as a little boy when she got mad.

“So think about it. Either you get rid of her and marry me, or I go all-out fucking public.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes,” he said. “Of course. I can see how you’d feel. Just give me a little time. I’ll make it right. I care about you a great deal.”

“And I care about you. But you gotta treat me right.”

He nodded again.

“Yes,” he said. “It’ll take a little while for me to arrange everything. But I’ll do the right thing, Tammy. I promise.”

She laughed with pleasure and leaned over and kissed him.

“Will you give me an engagement ring?” she said. “A big engagement ring with a big diamond and maybe little emeralds on either side?”

“As soon as I can,” he said. “As soon as I can get this all fixed. Just give me a little time and you’ll get everything you want.”

“Yes,” she said and lay back on the bed and watched him while he got up and put on his clothes, and left. When he was gone she stayed in the bed, her hands clasped behind her head.

“Yes,” she said out loud and her voice seemed very powerful in the quiet room.

Chapter 35

Jesse sat in his office with the gun permit file up on the computer screen. In Massachusetts, permits to carry a handgun were issued by the local chief of police. The permits had to be renewed every five years. Fire Arm Identification cards, permitting the holder to keep a gun, but not to carry one, were issued once and good for the holder’s lifetime. All the carry permits currently held therefore had been issued by Tom Carson. Some of the F.I.D.’s were much older. But only two had been issued prior to Carson’s arrival fifteen years before. No one had applied for a gun permit since Jesse had taken the job.

Jesse got up and walked to his office door and opened it and spoke to Molly Crane, who was the dispatcher and ran the front desk. She was also the jail matron and the only female officer on the force.

Molly was on the phone.

“Trash pickup has been delayed a day because of Labor Day,” she said into the phone. “No, ma’am. One day later . . . When’s your usual pickup? . . . Then it’ll be Thursday this week . . . Yes, ma’am. Glad to.”

She hung up and smiled at Jesse.

“Suitcase due in this morning?”

“He’s on shift,” Molly said. “Seven to three. Want me to get him in here?”

“When it’s convenient,” Jesse said. “Nice job on the trash pickup dates.”

“Lotta practice,” Molly said. “They call after every holiday.”

Jesse went back into his office and looked at the list of gun permits some more. He looked at them for a long time with his lips pursed, then he pushed the print button and watched as the sheets came silently from the laser printer. He was still watching them when Simpson knocked on his door and came in. He took off his hat and stood in front of Jesse’s desk a little awkwardly. At twenty-two he was still not entirely comfortable being called into the chief’s office. Even if the chief wasn’t very old himself.

“Hi, boss.”

“Close my door, Suit, and then sit down.”

Simpson did as he was told. His shoulders looked tight.

“You’re not in trouble,” Jesse said. “I just need some help and you seemed the right guy to give it.”

Simpson’s shoulders relaxed. He put his hat on the edge of Jesse’s desk and leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Sure, Jesse.”

“You know about the militia group in town.”