"Sure," Jesse said.

By the time he had driven up over the cobblestones and parked in the turnaround beside the house, two guys in seersucker sport coats and pink Lacoste polo shirts were standing on the side porch. Jesse got out and walked toward them.

"Chief Stone," one of them said.

He was a pleasant-looking man, about Jesse's size. He was clean shaven and tanned and had a nice, healthy look about him.

"Here to see Mr. Galen," Jesse said.

"Chief of all the police?" the other man said. "In this whole big town?"

This man was younger and bigger, a bodybuilder with a crew cut and a tiny beard that occupied about two triangular inches below his bottom lip. Jesse looked at him for a moment without saying anything.

"You have a gun," the older man said.

"I do," Jesse said.

"Generally we're not supposed to let anyone bring a gun inside," the older man said.

"But there's probably an exception for chiefs of police," Jesse said.

"I don't see no reason for exceptions," the younger man said.

The older man looked at him and then at Jesse and rolled his eyes.

"Normie," he said. "It ain't always wise to start up with the cops."

Normie snorted.

"What kind of cop work you do?" Normie said. "Bust people for clamming out of season?"

"What's your name?" Jesse said to the older man.

"Bob Davis," the man said.

"Can we stop horsing around with Joe Palooka here and go on in and see Mr. Galen?"

"What's that mean?" Normie said. "What's he mean, Joe Palooka?"

Bob smiled and shook his head.

"The perfect combo," he said to Jesse. "Stupid and aggressive."

"Hey," Normie said. "Who you-"

Bob looked at him and said, "Shhh."

Normie stopped.

"Stay here," Bob said to Normie.

Then he looked at Jesse and nodded for him to head toward the porch door. Bob's got a little clout, Jesse thought, as he followed him through the door.