Trouble in Paradise by Robert B. Parker Read Free Book Online

it would be fun to write ‘fag’ on the walls, and then one of the Hopkins boys, Earl, I bet, said, ”Let’s torch the fucker.“ I figure you didn’t much want to because you thought it was stupid, but you went along because they were going to do it anyway. You may have even tried to stop them but couldn’t.”
    “I wanted to stop them, they’d stop,” Jencks said.
    Jesse nodded.
    “Yeah, I can see that,” Jesse said.
    “I’m surprised you wanted to do it too. Go to jail for what? No money in it. Just a kid’s asshole prank. I figured you for a little more serious tough guy than that.”
    “Showed them fairies something,” Jencks said.
    “What’d you show them, tough guy?”
    “Showed ‘em,” Jencks said stubbornly.
    Jesse laughed. His laugh was rich with contempt.
    “Sure,” Jesse said.
    “One time, and one time only, you want to tell me what happened and walk, or you want to go to jail?”
    “I ain’t going to jail.”
    “Yeah, you are,” Jesse said.
    “And because you’re so fucking stupid, you may be the only one.” Jesse raised his voice.
    “Suit?”
    Simpson opened the door.
    “Take him out,” Jesse said.
    “Turn him loose.”
    Jencks looked startled.
    “Back way?” Simpson said.
    “Yeah.”
    “Come on,” Simpson said, and he led Jencks out of Jesse’s office. In two minutes he was back.
    “They see him go?” Jesse said.
    “Yeah. I took him down past the cells,” Simpson said, “with my arm around his shoulder. When I let him out the back door, I shook hands with him. They could see all that.”
    “Okay,” Jesse said.
    “Go get the younger one.”
    “Robbie.”
    “Yeah. Arrest him. Read him his rights. Cuff him in front.”
    Seated in the chair, his cuffed hands resting in his lap, Robbie was very pale and swallowed often. Jesse ignored him while he read some documents on his desk. He initialed one and picked up another, read it initialed it and put it in his out basket.
    “I don’t like these handcuffs,” Robbie said.
    “I don’t care,” Jesse said without looking up. He studied the next document for a moment, shook his head, and put it in another pile.
    “Couldn’t you please take them off?”
    Jesse read for another moment, then, still holding the document, he looked up at Robbie.
    “You think I’m your camp counselor or something?” Jesse said.
    “We got you for a felony, kid. You’re going to jail.”
    “I didn’t do anything,” Robbie said. His voice was clogged, and Jesse knew he’d cry in a little while.
    “I don’t like these handcuffs.”
    “First thing to know,” Jesse said, “now that you are officially a tough guy, is that from now on nobody will give one small shit about what you like and don’t like. You’re not home with your momma. You’re in the machine now, boy. You want me to get you a lawyer?”
    Jesse went back to his paper work. Robbie stared at him, and when he spoke again his voice was shaking and his eyes were wet.
    “But I didn’t do anything,” he said.
    “Not how I hear it,” Jesse said absently, scanning a missing persons flyer.
    “Heard you did the spray painting. Heard you actually poured the gasoline and struck the match.”
    “No.” Robbie’s voice was shrill now.
    “Snapper and Earl were only in the house in the first place because they were trying to get you out. They both tried to stop you, but they were too late.”
    Robbie was crying now. There was a tape recorder on Jesse’s desk. Jesse punched the RECORD button.
    “No,” Robbie said, struggling to talk through the sobs.
    “No. I wasn’t even in the house. I was outside watching chickie for the cops.”
    “Oh? So who set the fire?”
    “I don’t know. I wasn’t even in there. Earl had the gas can.”
    “You’re trying to tell me that he was in there with Snapper?”
    “Snapper told us he found an open window at the fag house and he’d been in there and tagged the walls in the living room,” Robbie said. He was talking as fast as he