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    Fool's Paradise


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      The Spenser Novels

      Robert B. Parker’s Angel Eyes

      (by Ace Atkins)

      Robert B. Parker’s Old Black Magic

      (by Ace Atkins)

      Robert B. Parker’s Little White Lies

      (by Ace Atkins)

      Robert B. Parker’s Slow Burn

      (by Ace Atkins)

      Robert B. Parker’s Kickback

      (by Ace Atkins)

      Robert B. Parker’s Cheap Shot

      (by Ace Atkins)

      Silent Night

      (with Helen Brann)

      Robert B. Parker’s Wonderland

      (by Ace Atkins)

      Robert B. Parker’s Lullaby

      (by Ace Atkins)

      Sixkill

      Painted Ladies

      The Professional

      Rough Weather

      Now & Then

      Hundred-Dollar Baby

      School Days

      Cold Service

      Bad Business

      Back Story

      Widow’s Walk

      Potshot

      Hugger Mugger

      Hush Money

      Sudden Mischief

      Small Vices

      Chance

      Thin Air

      Walking Shadow

      Paper Doll

      Double Deuce

      Pastime

      Stardust

      Playmates

      Crimson Joy

      Pale Kings and Princes

      Taming a Sea-Horse

      A Catskill Eagle

      Valediction

      The Widening Gyre

      Ceremony

      A Savage Place

      Early Autumn

      Looking for Rachel Wallace

      The Judas Goat

      Promised Land

      Mortal Stakes

      God Save the Child

      The Godwulf Manuscript

      The Jesse Stone Novels

      Robert B. Parker’s Fool’s Paradise

      (by Mike Lupica)

      Robert B. Parker’s The Bitterest Pill

      (by Reed Farrel Coleman)

      Robert B. Parker’s Colorblind

      (by Reed Farrel Coleman)

      Robert B. Parker’s The Hangman’s Sonnet

      (by Reed Farrel Coleman)

      Robert B. Parker’s Debt to Pay

      (by Reed Farrel Coleman)

      Robert B. Parker’s The Devil Wins

      (by Reed Farrel Coleman)

      Robert B. Parker’s Blind Spot

      (by Reed Farrel Coleman)

      Robert B. Parker’s Damned If You Do

      (by Michael Brandman)

      Robert B. Parker’s Fool Me Twice

      (by Michael Brandman)

      Robert B. Parker’s Killing the Blues

      (by Michael Brandman)

      Split Image

      Night and Day

      Stranger in Paradise

      High Profile

      Sea Change

      Stone Cold

      Death in Paradise

      Trouble in Paradise

      Night Passage

      The Sunny Randall Novels

      Robert B. Parker’s Grudge Match

      (by Mike Lupica)

      Robert B. Parker’s Blood Feud

      (by Mike Lupica)

      Spare Change

      Blue Screen

      Melancholy Baby

      Shrink Rap

      Perish Twice

      Family Honor

      The Cole/Hitch Westerns

      Robert B. Parker’s Buckskin

      (by Robert Knott)

      Robert B. Parker’s Revelation

      (by Robert Knott)

      Robert B. Parker’s Blackjack

      (by Robert Knott)

      Robert B. Parker’s The Bridge

      (by Robert Knott)

      Robert B. Parker’s Bull River

      (by Robert Knott)

      Robert B. Parker’s Ironhorse

      (by Robert Knott)

      Blue-Eyed Devil

      Brimstone

      Resolution

      Appaloosa

      Also by Robert B. Parker

      Double Play

      Gunman’s Rhapsody

      All Our Yesterdays

      A Year at the Races

      (with Joan H. Parker)

      Perchance to Dream

      Poodle Springs

      (with Raymond Chandler)

      Love and Glory

      Wilderness

      Three Weeks in Spring

      (with Joan H. Parker)

      Training with Weights

      (with John R. Marsh)

      G. P. Putnam’s Sons

      Publishers Since 1838

      An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

      penguinrandomhouse.com

      Copyright © 2020 by The Estate of Robert B. Parker

      Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

      Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

      Names: Lupica, Mike, author. | Parker, Robert B., 1932–2010, creator.

      Title: Fool’s paradise / Mike Lupica.

      Other titles: At head of title: Robert B. Parker’s

      Description: New York : G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 2020. | Series: A Jesse Stone novel

      Identifiers: LCCN 2020018116 (print) | LCCN 2020018117 (ebook) | ISBN 9780525542087 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780525542094 (ebook)

      Subjects: LCSH: Stone, Jesse (Fictitious character)—Fiction. | Police chiefs—Fiction. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction. | Mystery fiction

      Classification: LCC PS3562.U59 F66 2020 (print) | LCC PS3562.U59 (ebook) | DDC 813/.54—dc23

      LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020018116

      LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020018117

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      pid_prh_5.6.0_c0_r0

      For John Fisher, Chief of Police, Carlisle, Mass.

      Contents

      Cover

      Also by Robert B. Parker

      Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Tw
    enty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-One

      Chapter Thirty-Two

      Chapter Thirty-Three

      Chapter Thirty-Four

      Chapter Thirty-Five

      Chapter Thirty-Six

      Chapter Thirty-Seven

      Chapter Thirty-Eight

      Chapter Thirty-Nine

      Chapter Forty

      Chapter Forty-One

      Chapter Forty-Two

      Chapter Forty-Three

      Chapter Forty-Four

      Chapter Forty-Five

      Chapter Forty-Six

      Chapter Forty-Seven

      Chapter Forty-Eight

      Chapter Forty-Nine

      Chapter Fifty

      Chapter Fifty-One

      Chapter Fifty-Two

      Chapter Fifty-Three

      Chapter Fifty-Four

      Chapter Fifty-Five

      Chapter Fifty-Six

      Chapter Fifty-Seven

      Chapter Fifty-Eight

      Chapter Fifty-Nine

      Chapter Sixty

      Chapter Sixty-One

      Chapter Sixty-Two

      Chapter Sixty-Three

      Chapter Sixty-Four

      Chapter Sixty-Five

      Chapter Sixty-Six

      Chapter Sixty-Seven

      Chapter Sixty-Eight

      Chapter Sixty-Nine

      Chapter Seventy

      Chapter Seventy-One

      Chapter Seventy-Two

      Acknowledgments

      About the Authors

      One

      Jesse Stone opened his eyes even before the alarm on his phone started to chirp, 5:58 a.m. Sunday, Fourth of July weekend, cold sober. Stone cold. Private joke. His drinking never was. Jesse had never been a happy drunk, or a funny one. Just a drunk.

      Once he would still have been drunk at this time of the morning, trying to decide whether he was waking up or coming to, and likely scared shitless about what he might have done the night before.

      Good times.

      Now he set the alarm for six, seven days a week.

      Last night had been another early one for him, after the relighting of the marquee above the entrance to the Paradise Cinema. The theater had burned to the ground the year before. But somehow that day the volunteers from the Paradise Fire Department had managed to save the marquee. In the immediate aftermath of the fire, a not-for-profit committee had been formed by Lily Cain, part of the town’s royal and ruling class. It was called Friends of Paradise. No better friend than Lily, who, being Lily, had quickly raised enough money to invade New Hampshire. The Paradise Cinema had been rebuilt in less than a year and had officially reopened last night.

      Jesse had looked around the crowd during the ceremony and seen all these happy faces lining Main Street. So many more faces of color than there had been in Paradise when he’d first arrived here. The town wasn’t just more diverse than it had been twenty years ago. He knew it was better because of the diversity, livelier and more welcoming. Even though he knew people of color still scared the money in town, and there was still a boatload of that.

      But for this one night, they all stood shoulder to shoulder on Main Street, cheering the reopening of a theater that always looked to Jesse as if it had been a fixture in Paradise almost as long as the ocean. It always amazed Jesse how little it took to make other people happy.

      Molly Crane, his deputy and friend, had seen him staring into the crowd before Lily Cain threw the switch to light the marquee.

      “Looking for potential perps?” she said.

      “Nope,” he said. “Just trying to figure out why something like this could make this many people feel this good.”

      “Maybe because these people don’t think feeling good is against the law in Paradise, Massachusetts,” she said.

      “I’m the chief,” Jesse said. “I should know shit like that.”

      “Not about being happy,” Molly said.

      “I think of myself as a work in progress,” he said.

      She’d sighed and said, “So much work.”

      Fireworks had lit the sky as soon as the ceremony ended. Most of Paradise had gone out to party after that, in bars, all the way to the beach. Jesse had gone home to bed. Alone. But sober.

      Sober, he knew, was why he was still the chief of police. Alone was because he’d arrived at the decision, at least for the time being, that he was about as good at romantic relationships as he had been with scotch.

      Molly Crane had always said he was the alonest man she’d ever known.

      His phone started chirping again. Incoming call this time.

      The display said Suit.

      “Got a body at the lake,” Suitcase Simpson said.

      Jesse had made Suit a detective at the same time he’d officially made Molly his deputy, and had gotten both of them raises, despite the objections of the cheapskates on the Board of Selectmen. When Jesse had first met Luther Simpson, nicknamed Suitcase after an old-time ballplayer, he’d been a former high school football player, a local who’d just drifted into police work, after he’d taken the test, passed it. Molly had been working the desk and acting as a dispatcher. Now Suit had grown into being a terrific cop, even if Jesse still looked at him and saw the big, open-faced kid he’d met originally. Molly had grown into being a first-rate cop herself, in addition to being completely indispensable.

      “Man or woman?”

      Jesse sat up.

      “Man.”

      “How?” Jesse said.

      “Looks like a bullet to the back of the head,” Suit said. “Or two. Lot of blood.”

      “ID?”

      “Not yet. But we just got here. I wanted to call you first thing.”

      “You’re a detective,” Jesse said. “It means you’re authorized to start detecting without me.”

      “Just going by the book,” Suit said. “Yours.”

      “Floater?”

      “No, praise Jesus and all of His apostles.”

      Suit now knew more about floaters than he’d ever wanted to, things that Jesse had learned a long time ago in Los Angeles, about how bodies in the water first sank and then eventually came back to the surface as the air in them was replaced with gas that inflated them like toy dolls. The longer they had been in the water, especially seawater, the better the chance that fish and crabs and sea lice had been feeding on them, turning them into something you never forgot.

      Suit told Jesse exactly where he was at the lake, a part of the closest thing Paradise had to a Central Park, close to town, full of wooded areas, but somehow feeling remote at the same time. It was on the west side of Paradise, next to the field where Jesse still played in the Paradise Men’s Softball League. What he called the Men of Summer. It’s where they’d once found a teenage girl named Elinor Bishop. Jesse had seen more than his share of floaters when he’d worked Robbery Homicide. Suit had never seen one before Elinor Bishop. He still said he’d rather be caught wearing women’s clothing than catch another floater.

      He’d admitted later to Jesse that the first chance he got that night, and hoping that nobody else noticed, he went into the woods and nearly puked up a lung.

      Jesse told Suit he was on his way, and ended the call. Then he was out of bed, having already decided not to shower, getting into the jeans he’d left hanging over the chair next to his bed, grateful there was no hangover for him to manage. Before the lighting of the marquee, he had been at an AA meeting in Marshport, the next town over from Paradise. At one point the speaker had said having a hangover was like having a second job.

     
    ; Jesse was still making it. Day at a goddamn time. Still on the job as chief. Maybe that was all the proof he needed that the Higher Power they talked about in AA really was looking out for him. Serving and protecting him.

      Jesse felt a different kind of buzz now. One that had never had anything to do with booze. Just cop adrenaline and a dead body making him feel more alive than he had in a while.

      He went into the kitchen, poured some coffee into a travel mug, mixed in cream and sugar, and headed out the door. Before he did, he stopped, having caught his reflection in the mirror in his living room.

      Toasted himself with the mug as he did.

      First of the day, Jesse Stone thought.

      Two

      Jesse drove his new black Ford Explorer through the empty streets of Paradise, the theater marquee looking like some kind of ghost light sitting on top of morning fog. Suit had told him it was time to upgrade, that this year’s Explorer got a better “pursuit rating” than Jesse’s model, that they had beefed-up suspensions and performed better, and that you could get them even more easily prewired than before for police radios and what Suit called “all the other fun cop shit.”

      Jesse had told him to stop, he was sold, had gone to the Board, and had been issued the Explorer he was driving now. He got them to issue Suit one, too. Molly said she was sticking with her old Cherokee.

      She’d just shook her head at the time and said, “Boys with their souped-up toys.”

      As Jesse got to the lake he saw the flashing blue lights, like a different kind of light show now in the first hour after sunrise. He parked the car, got out, and ducked underneath the yellow crime tape, noticing Suit’s Explorer parked next to the medical examiner’s van and two other patrol cars. No onlookers here yet, no cell phone pictures being taken. Soon, though. Word would get out. It always did. In the old days, before the advent of digital portable radios, there had briefly been an app people in Paradise could download onto their phones that live-streamed the PPD’s police scanners. All in the name of transparency. Jesse had shut it down first chance he got.

     


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