Robert B. Parker's Debt to Pay Read Online Free

it was muscle memory or pure instinct, he swung the bat without actually seeing the ball.
    Instead of the usual crisp ping of metal alloy making flush contact with the ball, there was a rubbery dull thud. And when Jesse snapped back into the moment, he was pumping his arms, running hard as he could toward first base. He caught sight of the ball centered between the pitcher’s mound, the foul line, and first. The ball was spinning sideways like a cue ball, the way it does when hit off the very end of the bat. Robbie Wilson bent down to field it and, tripping over his own feet, collided with his first baseman. The first baseman swiped at the ball as he fell, knocking it away from both men and into foul territory. Jesse reached first safely and Suit Simpson scored from third.
    Jesse hadn’t struck out. The winning run had crossed home on what had been very generously scored an infield hit and RBI for the chief. Yet even as the team swarmed around him, slapping his back, hugging him, shaking his hand, the reality of what had happened wasn’t lost on him. No, he hadn’t struck out, but he’d come pretty damn close. And when he looked up into the stands for Diana, he noticed a roiling line of lead-gray clouds stretching across the horizon. The meaning of those clouds wasn’t lost on him, either.

FIVE
    J esse skipped the customary postgame team trip to the Gull. Part of it was that he didn’t want to be in a crowd of drinkers. He had never been a celebratory kind of drinker, anyway. For Jesse, imbibing was kind of like a boxer’s roadwork: something to do every day whether he felt like it or not. It was part of him. Ritual. In this instance, Jesse’s decision was less about the drinking than his recent distraction. That little squib he hit toward the pitcher’s mound was bothering the hell out of him.
    Jesse was a quietly confident man by nature, not a vain one. Though, like everyone else, he had his small vanities, and baseball was one. Playing ball, no matter that it was in a slow-pitch softball league, kept him connected to his glory days. Even at his age, he was by far the best player around. Reality had long ago forced him to accept that the shoulder injury he had suffered in Pueblo had finished his dreams of a major-league career, but his love of the game and the what-ifs stayed with him. Secretly he worried that whatever skills he still possessed might finally be fading. Now, pulling his old Explorer up to the station house, Jesse thought that fading skills might have been easier to deal with if he was still on friendly termswith Johnnie Walker. He didn’t share that thought with Diana, sitting there right next to him.
    â€œI’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said.
    Molly was at the front desk. When she saw Jesse, she gave him a puzzled look.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?”
    Jesse pointed at his office door. “See, Crane, it says the words
Chief’s Office
on the glass? Every now and then I like to pretend that means something.”
    She made a face. “But I heard you guys beat the fire department.” She pumped her fist. “I bet Robbie Wilson is somewhere drowning his sorrows right about now.”
    In every city and town, large or small, there was a natural rivalry between the police department and the fire department. Usually it’s as friendly a rivalry as that between lions and hyenas. And it was even less friendly in Paradise. Molly, in particular, despised Robbie Wilson.
    Molly smiled. “And I heard you drove in the winning run. Sweet.”
    Those words stung Jesse more than Molly could know. “Uh-huh.” He changed the subject. “Anything going on?”
    He expected no for an answer. As to the general lack of crime, Jesse chalked that up to good fortune and an uptick in the economy. Manpower was also a factor. After several months on patrol, Molly was back in her old spot, working the desk. Suit had fully recovered from