Free Killing the Blues by Michael Brandman Page B

that?”
    â€œSix months or so.”
    â€œAnd you’ve been working for him ever since?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhere have you been working,” Jesse said.
    â€œHere and there. No one place.”
    â€œUntil you set up shop in Paradise.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhich you did because . . . ?”
    â€œBecause Mr. Lombardo said to. He said he wanted to find a new place for a shop. He mentioned Paradise. He purchased the farm and told us to work there.”
    â€œWhere do I find Mr. Lombardo?”
    â€œI already told you I don’t know.”
    â€œDid you ever meet him in Boston,” Jesse said.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œAt a restaurant.”
    â€œWhat restaurant?”
    â€œSome place he likes in Cambridge.”
    â€œWhat place?”
    â€œAn Italian place. Il Capriccio. On Ash Street. Go verify this shit, will ya? My wife must be climbin’ the walls.”
    â€œWho killed Mike Lytell,” Jesse said.
    â€œWho the fuck is Mike Lytell?”
    â€œGuy killed in the carjack.”
    â€œHow would I know?”
    â€œBecause you do.”
    Lopresti didn’t say anything.
    â€œThe name of Lytell’s killer,” Jesse said.
    When Lopresti remained silent, Jesse stood up to leave. He walked to the door.
    â€œPetey Marcovy,” Lopresti said.
    â€œRussian?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œPeter Marcovy?”
    â€œPyotr. P-Y-O-T-R. Everyone called him Petey,” Lopresti said.
    â€œAlso from Fall River?”
    â€œBy way of the Ukraine. You won’t find him, though.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou’re not gonna find him. He’s dead.”
    Jesse didn’t say anything.
    â€œMr. Lombardo had him shot. Petey was a new guy. A hothead. Mr. Lombardo had enough of him.”
    â€œMore likely he didn’t want Petey identifying him,” Jesse said. “Sharks feeding on their young.”
    â€œYeah, well, I’m hoping that because of you they don’t start feeding on me.”
    â€œLife’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

26
    J esse phoned Healy from the car.
    â€œBingo,” he said.
    â€œGee, and all I needed was N-thirty-five.”
    â€œYou ever hear of a connected guy called John Lombardo?”
    â€œNot offhand.”
    â€œOur POW gave him up. Fall River guy.”
    â€œI’ll check it out. Don’t do anything foolish, Jesse,” Healy said. “Let me at least get the skinny on him.”
    â€œYou know where to find me,” Jesse said, and ended the call.

    J esse pulled up in front of the Town Hall and parked in the no-parking zone. He found Carter Hansen in his office, eating a brown-bagged lunch.
    â€œMay I interrupt your lunch,” Jesse said.
    â€œIf I said no?”
    â€œI’d come in anyway.”
    â€œWhy don’t you come in, then,” Hansen said.
    â€œI’d like to borrow the services of Alexis Richardson.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œYou mentioned that she was adroit in the field of public relations.”
    â€œI can’t remember ever using the word adroit. ”
    â€œForgive me. I must have you confused with someone else. Well?”
    â€œWell what?”
    â€œIs she adroit in the field of public relations?”
    â€œThat would depend upon your definition of adroit.”
    â€œThis isn’t going well.”
    â€œWhat is it you want, Stone?”
    â€œI want Ms. Richardson to prepare a press release.”
    â€œWhat kind of press release?”
    â€œOne advising the population of Paradise to keep their dogs inside at night.”
    Hansen didn’t say anything.
    â€œWell?”
    After a moment Hansen picked up the phone and dialed a number.
    â€œMarilyn,” he said. “Would you ask Alexis if she could step into my office for a moment?”
    The two men sat in silence. Then Alexis Richardson walked in. Jesse stood.
    â€œYou remember