“Freedom’s Horsemen, sure. Mr. Hathaway is the commander, I think. I never figured the name out, though, tell you the truth. There isn’t a one of them can ride a damn horse.”

“And you know most of the people in the group?”

“Oh sure. I lived here all my life, Jesse. I know about everybody in town.”

“That’s why I figured you were the right one for this, Suit.”

Jesse reached into the printer catch basket and took out the permit list and handed it to Simpson.

“Go through this list,” Jesse said. “Check off the names that are also Freedom’s Horsemen.”

“Sure. You want me to do it right now?”

“Yes, please.”

Simpson took a ballpoint pen from the pocket of his uniform shirt and began to go slowly through the list. Jesse watched quietly. It took Simpson a long time to go through the hundred or so names on the list. When he finished he handed the list over to Jesse and capped his pen and put it carefully back in his shirt pocket. Most of the names were checked.

“I don’t know who a couple of those people are,” Simpson said. “I put a question mark beside them. And a couple people I’m not sure if they’re in the Horsemen or not. So I put two question marks next to them.”

Jesse glanced over the list. There were only twelve unmarked names.

“Most of them are Horsemen,” he said.

“Sure,” Simpson said. “It’s always the gun guys join a militia.”

Jesse nodded.

“Gun is probably a prerequisite,” he said. “What I’m wondering is why so few non-Horsemen have permits.”

“Most people are scared of guns.”

Jesse didn’t answer. He stared at the list for a time while Simpson sat and waited.

“How come you want to know this, Jesse?” Simpson asked finally.

“Just like to keep track, Suit. Militias have sometimes gotten a little hairy.”

“Oh hell, Jesse, you take the Horsemen too serious. I known most of them since I been a little kid. They just like to shoot, hang around with each other. Drink beer after the meetings. Hell, Lou’s one of the officers, for crissake.”

“You’re probably right, Suit. What I would like is if you kept it to yourself, though, be kind of embarrassing if Lou found out, or Mr. Hathaway, that I was checking them out.”

“Oh sure, Jesse, no sweat. I won’t say a damned word.”

“And the other thing, Suit, if you know anybody that tried to get a gun permit and couldn’t, could you let me know his name.”

“That off the record too, Jesse?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Simpson said and his round pink face widened as he smiled. “Suitcase Simpson, Undercover.”

Chapter 36

The Strand movie theater in the old downtown section of Paradise was left over from the time when every town had a movie theater. There was a balcony. The ceiling was high. And the screen was big, with maroon drapes gathered at each side of it. Jesse didn’t like the movie much. But he liked the theater. And he enjoyed being with Abby.

“What’d you think,” she said as they walked out onto Washington Street.

“The computer broke, they’d have had no movie,” Jesse said.

He had the slightly disoriented lightness he always felt coming out of a movie.

“Computer?” Abby said. “Oh, you mean all the special effects.”

“Un huh.”

“But that’s how film is made these days. I mean art is partly about making use of the technology available.”

“Art?” Jesse said.

There was a gym on the second floor next to the theater, and coming out the front door of the gym and walking toward them was Jo Jo Genest. He had on a cutoff black tee shirt and gray sweatpants and a black headband. His long hair was wet with sweat. He was wearing the fingerless leather gloves that everyone wore in the movies. His face was dark with an unshaven beard. The tee shirt read, I am an animal. I will eat you, across the front.

“Hey, Chief Stone,” Jo Jo said. “How you doing?”

Jesse looked at him without speaking.

“How you doing, little lady,” Jo Jo said.

“Fine,” Abby said.

“Closing in on that cat killer, chief?”

Jesse continued to look at him dead-eyed.

“Whatsa matter, you can’t hear me?” Jo Jo said.

Some of the people coming from the movie slowed, looking covertly at the confrontation.

“You got an alibi for the time of the cat killing?” Jesse said. He was smiling, playing to the crowd, which was pretending not to notice as it moved around the scene.

“Sure do,” Jo Jo said.

“How do you know when the cat was killed?” Jesse said.

“Huh?”

Jo Jo stopped smiling.

“You got an alibi for the time the cat was killed, you must know when the cat was killed. How do you know that?”

“Hey, don’t be an asshole, Stone. I just meant whenever it happened, I didn’t do it, so I’d have an alibi.”

“Turn around,” Jesse said.

His voice was flat.

“What?”

“Turn around. Put your hands flat against the wall.”

“Wait a freaking minute, Stone.”

“You disobeying the lawful order of a policeman?” Jesse said.

He unbuttoned his blazer jacket.

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” Jo Jo said.

“Hands on the wall,” Jesse said in the same flat voice.

Abby had taken a couple of steps away from Jesse, moving closer to the passersby who paused and stared, or walked by as if nothing were happening, depending on their temperament.

“Oh for crissake,” Jo Jo said.

He placed his hands flat against the building.

“Step away from the building, leaving your hands in place,” Jesse said. “Spread your legs.”

Jo Jo did as he was told. His face was flushed, and his breath was coming shorter. Jesse tapped his ankles with the edge of one foot, moving Jo Jo’s feet farther apart. Then he patted him down. When he was through, he stepped back away from Jo Jo and stared at him without speaking.

“How long am I supposed to stand here?” Jo Jo said.

“Until I tell you to stop,” Jesse said.

He continued to look silently at Jo Jo for another full minute.

Then he said, “Okay.”

Jo Jo straightened and turned from the wall. He glared at Jesse without speaking. Jesse stared back at him.

Then Jesse spoke very softly. “We both know something, don’t we, pal.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“We both know,” Jesse said again.

“Aw,” Jo Jo said and made a push-away motion with his left hand, and stepped past Jesse and walked down the street away from them, trying to swagger.

Jesse stepped over beside Abby.

“Want to eat at the Rosewood?” Jesse said.

“Jesus Christ,” Abby said.

Chapter 37

“I don’t like this,” Hasty said to Jo Jo as they walked along Tremont Street.

“Gino says it’s this way or no way,” Jo Jo said. “He likes to see who he’s doing business with.”

“Why does someone like him care?” Hasty said.

Jo Jo shrugged.

“Gino’s a strange guy,” Jo Jo said.

They went down the stairs to the basement-level entrance and walked into Development Associates of Boston. The pretty young man behind the reception desk looked up at them.

“Well, Tarzan,” he said with his infuriating smile. “And who’s this, Cheetah?”

Jo Jo had a momentary image of himself yanking the little faggot from behind the desk and smashing his head against the white brick wall. But he didn’t. This was business, and he was always aware of Vinnie Morris and his odd unnerving stillness, and how quick everyone said he was when he had reason to be.

“Gino’s expecting us,” Jo Jo said.

“Me check,” the young man said. “You wait.”

He stood and went back through the door behind the desk and into the back room. In a moment he came out and made a sweeping gesture of invitation like a maitre d’ at a pretentious restaurant. Jo Jo could almost feel Hasty’s disapproval. But Gino was Gino and he had to meet the client.