Kelly brought Alan Garner into Jesse's office at quarter to ten in the morning.
"Picked him up as soon as he came to open the office," Kelly said.
"Gino know?"
"Not yet."
Kelly leaned against the wall by the door and folded his arms. Garner stared at Norman Shaw. Shaw was sitting beside Jesse's desk. He had a bad hangover. His face was stiff. His movements were careful. His hands shook a little.
"I want a lawyer," Garner said.
"You're not under arrest," Jesse said.
"Then I want to leave."
"Be in your best interest," Jesse said, "to stay."
Garner looked at Kelly. Kelly shrugged.
"Long walk back to Boston," he said.
"I want to call Gino."
"Alan," Kelly said. "Right now we have you for a few small pimp charges. You might get away with no time."
"We could jack that up to murder," Jesse said.
Garner sat down, suddenly, beside Shaw. His face had gotten smaller. He had trouble swallowing.
"What murder?"
Shaw said, "Should I have a lawyer?"
"I don't know," Jesse said. "Should you?"
"I haven't done anything," Shaw said.
Jesse nodded.
"You know a kid named Billie Bishop?" Jesse said to Shaw.
"Of course not."
"Why 'of course not'?"
"Well, I mean, I know who I know, for God's sake."
"And you don't know Billie Bishop?"
"No."
Jesse looked at Garner.
"Alan?"
"What?"
"Does he know Billie Bishop?"
"You said I wouldn't…" Garner said. "You promised I wouldn't have to testify."
"I lied," Jesse said. "Does he know Billie Bishop?"
"I can't… Gino…"
"One of you will go down for this," Jesse said. "You want to be it?"
"Down for what?"
"Killing the kid," Jesse said.
"I didn't kill anybody."
Jesse waited. Kelly was still and expressionless leaning on the door. Shaw seemed to have shrunk in his chair.
"I just introduced him to her."
"Shaw to Billie?" Jesse said.
Shaw made a stifled sound as if he'd been hit.
"Yes."
"You deliver?"
"Deliver?"
"Do you bring the girls to Shaw?"
"Usually yes. I mean, these girls don't usually have a car."
"And if they did they're not old enough to drive," Kelly said.
"Every one of them told me she was at least twenty," Shaw said suddenly.
His voice seemed high and unnatural, almost petulant. Nobody responded.
"And you drive them to the motel?"
"Yes. And give them money to register. No credit card, you know? Cash in advance."
"This isn't what it sounds like," Shaw said. "I'm thinking of doing a book on prostitution."
"You own a gun?" Jesse said.
"A gun?" Shaw's voice was almost a squeak.
"A gun."
"No, I don't."
Jesse opened the drawer of his desk and took out the gun Shaw's wife had given him and put it on the desk so Shaw could see it. Shaw looked at it without speaking. Jesse waited. Leaning against the wall, Kelly smiled like a happy wolf. He waited. Alan Garner sat absolutely still, trying to attract no attention.
"That's not my gun," Shaw said finally, his high voice shaking.
"How could it be?" Jesse said. "If you don't own one."
"That's right," Shaw said.
Jesse was quiet again, looking at Shaw. Shaw tried to hold his gaze and couldn't and looked around the office in a dreadful parody of unconcern.
"Do you have any coffee?" Shaw said.
Jesse said, "No."
Everyone was silent again. Shaw couldn't keep from looking at the gun on Jesse's desk. After a time Jesse spoke. His voice sounded too loud to him.
"I found the gun in your desk," Jesse said.
"You were looking in my desk?"
"Your wife and I," Jesse said.
"She showed you?"
"Yes."
"She knows?"
"Yes."
"About the girls?"
"Yes."
Shaw looked as if he wanted to say something, but nothing was there to be said.
"You dumb fuck," Jesse said. "You didn't clean it. There was a round missing. You didn't even reload."
Again Shaw started to speak and failed. Finally he said, "I need a drink."
There was a tape recorder on Jesse's desk. Jesse turned it on.
"Why'd you kill her, Norman?"
Shaw sat back in his chair, his shoulders slumped, his hands clasped between his thighs.
"She said she was going to tell on me," he said.
His voice wasn't high anymore, but it remained petulant.
"A high school dropout," he said. "She said she didn't like some of the things we did."
"You were paying for those things," Jesse said encouragingly.
"That's right, and this little dropout whore… I'm a best-selling author. I had too much to lose."
Shaw stopped.
"You shoot her?" Jesse said.
Shaw didn't answer. "God," he said. "I need a drink."
"You shoot her?"
Shaw's voice sounded hoarse. "Yes," he said.