Robert B. Parker - [Jesse Stone 18] - Reed Farrel Coleman by The Bitterest Pill

Author:The Bitterest Pill [Pill, The Bitterest]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, Adult
ISBN: 9780399574979
Publisher: G.P. Putnam’s Sons
Published: 2019-09-10T05:00:00+00:00

Forty-two

Jesse drove from the bowling alley to the Back Bay. It hadn’t been a disappointing day, but there hadn’t been any revelations, either. He felt he wasn’t much closer to finding the person who employed Chris Grimm than he had been when he’d driven away from the high school that morning. Sure, he knew more about how the scam with the pawn shop worked. He had his suspicions concerning Arakel Sarkassian and his story about Chris Grimm bringing Oriental rugs to him for an estimate.

It had been good to see Bill again and, he had to confess, it had also been good to see Vinnie Morris. Jesse and Vinnie would be bound together forever by how things had played out in the immediate wake of Diana’s murder. And it wasn’t only that. Jesse had to acknowledge it was more than respect and gratitude he felt for Vinnie Morris. There was an undeniable kinship between them. For now, though, Vinnie and the other events of the day were in his rearview mirror. He had a sense that this last get-together had more potential to get him closer to the drug scene in Paradise than those that had come before it.

The last thing Jesse wanted or needed was more caffeine, but he met Django Carpenter at a coffeehouse a few blocks from the Berklee College of Music campus. Django was a classic blending of his mother and father. Dark-skinned, with a radiating warmth like his mom and as stunningly handsome as his father, Django had yet to fill out the promise of his long limbs and broad shoulders. He bumped fists with Jesse as he approached. Jesse had known the kid since birth, so there was no feeling-out nonsense.

“Yo, Jesse,” he said, seemingly at ease in these surroundings.

“How are you doing, Django?”

“It is what it is.”

“School?”

“All good. Love my folks, but nice to be out of their orbit . . . if you know what I mean.”

“Can’t be easy wanting to be a musician and having a famous father for a musician. And then to hang Django on you . . .”

Django laughed. “This your way of easing into a talk about me and drugs? Well, Jesse, I didn’t do drugs because I needed an escape or nothing, or because I was all neurotic about competing with my dad. I didn’t get all bent because my folks named me after one of the greatest guitar players who ever lived. I didn’t do drugs because my dad’s a better musician than I’m ever going to be. Really, I’m good with that. I did drugs because I had to. First it was the pain relief. Then it was the high. Then it was the hunger. It’s that simple.”

Jesse laughed at himself. “Thanks for being honest with me. You straight now?”

“Totally. I never want to go back to feeling that desperate again. You can’t know how that feels.”

“I’m an alcoholic, Django. I know.”

The kid smiled. “No offense, Jesse, but that’s not exactly breaking news. Imagine

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