Robert B. Parker's Someone to Watch Over Me

by Ace Atkins

  “If there’s any trouble.”

  Mattie didn’t answer.

  “If you see anything.”

  Still more silence. Mattie sat in the passenger seat of my aging yet classic Land Cruiser. Her arms were crossed over her chest while she took in the wonderful scenery along the Mass Pike.

  “We just have to take precautions,” I said.

  “Did you take precautions when you worked with Sixkill?”

  “No,” I said. “But I wish I had.”

  “I am not Sixkill.”

  “I would never confuse you for a large, muscular Native American.”

  Mattie didn’t laugh. But Mattie seldom laughed. I took the exit toward Fenway and the neighborhood where Mattie kept a small apartment.

  “These people aren’t like the toughs from Southie,” I said. “They’re not a bunch of leg breakers of even Jumpin’ Jack Flynn’s caliber.”

  “Please don’t say that name.”

  I nodded. I slowed at a traffic light. My air conditioner was on the fritz, and we had the windows down. In my rearview mirror, I could see Pearl panting in the backseat.

  “Until we know what we’ve got,” I said.

  “We know what we have,” Mattie said. “You would’ve never heard about Peter Steiner or Poppy Palmer if it weren’t for me.”

  “True.”

  “And if you really live by the code, then you should respect mine, too,” she said. “I’m the one who gave my word to Chloe Turner and Amelia Lynch. I’m the one who made a promise that we’d get that bastard. Now what am I supposed to do? Sit around and hide while you and Hawk go out and bust some skulls? That’s not what I signed on for. That’s bullshit.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But as good of a detective as you may be, you’re not equipped to deal with this crew. These are men who’ve made a special trip to Boston to scare and intimidate us. That’s their only job.”

  “You taught Sixkill to shoot.”

  “I did.”

  “And fight.”

  “Sixkill could already fight,” I said. “But Henry and I taught him to fight better.”

  “Why don’t you teach me?”

  I knew where this was headed and was fine with the direction. I’d had a similar conversation with Susan when we’d discussed how to help Mattie. Many of my ideas Susan called old-fashioned and sexist. I had simply asked if Susan might take Mattie shopping since she seemed to rotate a few different T-shirts, jeans, and her Sox pitching jacket.

  “I will.”

  “But not now.”

  “Hawk and I have been doing this since the Pleistocene era.”

  “Got to start somewhere.”

  The traffic started to move, and I flowed with it. With the flow came a little fresh, while not cool, air into the car. I could hear Pearl panting and smell her puppy breath. I hit a small pothole and the rear suspension groaned with age.

  “You haven’t even asked what I’ve been up to,” Mattie said.

  “What have you been up to?”

  “I haven’t just been paying your overdue bills and writing invoices,” she said. “If you’d taken two seconds to wonder, I might have told you I found two more victims of Peter Steiner.”

  I glanced at her for a moment but then turned my eyes back on the road. We headed past Kenmore Square and the big Barnes & Noble under the Citgo sign. It was hot and very bright, driving toward the setting sun.

  “And both of them said they’d talk to Rita.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “They both did the massage thing last year,” Mattie said. “Amelia Lynch put me in touch. I met with them this morning at Quincy Market. Some pretty sick stuff, Spenser. One of them has actually been on that freaky-deaky island.”

  “And?”

  “Like I said, some sick stuff,” Mattie said. “Steiner keeps a staff out on his place. They bring these old creepazoids cocktails, rub their saggy old shoulders with oil. But they get paid. It’s a lot of money. More money than their parents make in a month.”

  “Can you get them to Rita’s?”

  “Hmm,” Mattie said. “Thought you said to take it easy for a while. Let you and Hawk handle the man business and all that.”

  “I never said ‘man business.’”

  “But you implied it.”

  “I implied that Hawk and I were more skilled dealing in these matters,” I said.

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute.”

  I nodded and weaved in and out of traffic. I turned down along Mattie’s street, right off the Northeastern campus, and slowed in front of her building. We sat for a moment, the car running, the windows down. Pearl rambled up into Mattie’s lap and then wandered over to mine.

  “I like that dog,” Mattie said.

  “Me, too,” I said.

  “I’ll watch my back,” she said. “I’ve been doing that my whole freakin’ life. And I’ll see about getting the girls to Rita’s.”

  “If you notice anything at all.”

  “I’m not the one with the reputation for making trouble,” Mattie said.

  “Not yet.”

  “Yeah,” Mattie said, grinning. She pulled her ball cap down in her eyes and then reached for the door handle. “But I’m working on it.”

  36

  Someone at Cone, Oakes had set a platter of mini-sandwiches in the center of a very large conference table. I guarded the sandwiches as Mattie ushered in a middle-aged woman and two teenage girls. They didn’t seem to notice me as they turned their backs and took in the mesmerizing view high above Boston.

  The woman was heavyset, with thick brown hair accented by a single white streak framing her face. She wore an ankle-length blue summer dress adorned with floral swirls and a lot of jewelry. The jewelry was large and chunky, beads and blocks around her neck and on her left forearm. Her name was Rosie Lagrasso from Revere. She was loud and boisterous, oohing and ahhing over the view.

  Rita Fiore entered the room and sat across from me.

  She looked to the sandwiches and then back at me.

  “Well,” she said.

  “Well,” I said.

  “From Monica’s in the North End.”

  I raised my eyebrows and gave a nod of appreciation.

  Mattie joined us at the table with Rosie Lagrasso and her daughter, Haley, and Haley’s friend, Maria Tran. Maria Tran was Vietnamese and looked much younger than sixteen. She was a thin, slight girl with long black hair and glasses. She had on a T-shirt that read Aero SoCal ’87. She couldn’t have weighed more than sixty pounds soaking wet.

  Haley Lagrasso looked a lot like her mother. She had on jeans and a man’s white tank top. Her thick brown hair had been lopped off right below her ears, wild and frizzy in the summer heat. She wasn’t at all pleased to be there that morning, staring down at the table and tapping her nail-bitten fingers.

  Introductions went around. Rosie Lagrasso complimented me on having such a nice office.

  Rita snorted but didn’t correct her.

  One of Rita’s paralegals came into the conference room and set a microphone jacked into a laptop beside the sandwich platter. She clicked away on her keyboard and nodded over to Rita. Rita, with her red hair piled high on top of her head, looked like Mary, Queen of Scots, in a white summer suit and a baby-blue silk top.

  I made a move for the sandwiches. Without looking in my direction, Rita moved the platter away.

  “Shall we begin?” Rita said.

  She stated her name and her title of senior litigator at Cone, Oakes and that she was joined by Haley Lagrasso and Maria Tran. Lagrasso had been accompanied by her mother, Rosie, and Tran’s parents had signed a waiver to approve her involvement. Rita first asked Haley how and when she met Peter Steiner.

  “Maria introduced me to him,” she said.

 
; “Bullshit,” Maria said. The word sounded strange coming out of such a small girl.

  “You told me about him,” Haley said. “You’re the one who gave me the business card and told me about the pool parties.”

  “Whatever.” Maria rolled her eyes and threw herself back into the conference chair. “You asked me because Amelia told you.”

  “Where were these pool parties?” Rita said.

  “Some hotel in the West End,” Haley said. “I don’t remember the name. This was a long time ago. Very fancy, with the pool on the roof.”

  Maria named the hotel. I knew it. It wasn’t far from the old jail.

  “When?” Rita said.

  “Like, last year,” Haley said. “Right after school was out. You got five hundred bucks just for showing up. It was like some kind of private party. This woman gave me a uniform and told me what I needed to do.”

  “Can you describe the uniform?” Rita said.

  “A red bikini,” Haley said. “All the girls were wearing them. Maria had one on, too.”

  “I wore my own,” Maria said. “Okay?”

  I looked over at Mattie and noticed she was taking notes. I seldom took notes but wondered if perhaps now was the time to start.

  “And what were your duties at these parties?” Rita said.

  “Make sure these old creepy men had stuff to drink,” she said. “I had to go back and forth to the bartender. Champagne. Beer. I’d walk around and ask these old guys if they needed anything. We called it Daddy Disco because of all the old music they played. Those old men loved to dance.”

  “Did they know you were a minor?” Rita said.

  “No one asked,” Haley said.

  Rita looked over to Maria.

  “They knew I wasn’t sixteen,” Maria said. “Poppy Palmer gave me a ride to the hotel once because I couldn’t drive. That’s when she paid me for each of the girls I’d gotten to work the event.”

  “Did she say what the event was for?” Rita said.

  “She said the men were important clients of Mr. Steiner’s and that we were to see they had a good time,” Maria said. “We were told to smile and be polite, spend time with the men if they wanted to talk to us. Maybe rub some suntan oil on them if they asked.”

  “Ick,” Mattie said, looking up from her notepad and leaning forward. “Tell Miss Fiore what you told me about the cabanas.”

  Rita looked over to Mattie and held up the flat of her hand. Rita wasn’t fond of anyone butting into her depositions.

  “Sure,” Maria said, adjusting her glasses on her delicate face. “Some of the men had these cabanas on the rooftop. The girls were told they could make tips if they gave massages. It was a lot of money. Maybe five hundred extra dollars. That’s a lot of money where I come from. More money than my mother makes in a week for giving manicures.”

  “Did either of you participate in the cabanas?” Rita said.

  Maria didn’t answer. Haley looked down at her hands.

  “Go ahead,” Rosie said. “Go ahead. That’s why we’re here, dammit. Tell them what that awful woman told you to do.”

  “I got drunk,” Haley said.

  “And,” Rosie said. “Tell them.”

  “And I kissed this old man,” she said. “While he touched me.”

  “Where?” Rita said.

  Haley explained the fondling in great detail. I looked over to Rita. Rita took in a long breath. She was no stranger to lurid tales, but I could tell it sickened her. It sickened me, too. I was no longer interested in the sandwiches.

  “Maria?” Rita said.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I rubbed the fat man’s back. He offered me a thousand dollars to touch him. You know. Down there. But I didn’t.”

  “Did anyone try to force you?”

  “No,” she said. “But Miss Palmer told me there was more money if I made any of the men happy. Some of the girls were told to get in the pool and play around. Some of the men handed out money if we took off our tops.”

  “Good God,” Rita said. “These are children.”

  Mattie met Rita’s gaze across the table and nodded. Rita nodded back at Mattie.

  “How many of these parties did you go to?” Rita said.

  Haley was crying now but trying to compose herself. Her mother was staring up at the ceiling and mumbling to herself, perhaps seeking a higher authority. Rosie reached into her purse and pulled out some Kleenex for her daughter. She handed it to her, and the girl blew her nose.

  “Three,” Haley said. She said it so softly, we could barely hear her.

  Rita asked her to repeat her answer.

  “Three,” she said.

  “And did men touch you at each event?”

  Haley nodded.

  “Please speak up,” Rita said.

  “Yes,” Haley said.

  “What about the island?” Mattie said. She’d been good about holding her questions, but there was little that could stop Mattie Sullivan from getting to the point.

  “What about it?” Maria Tran said.

  “What can you tell us?” Rita said, raising her eyebrows at Mattie.

  “I only went once,” Maria said. “One weekend. I told my mother I was going to the beach with friends. Mr. Steiner had a fancy black car take me to a private airport. From the private airport we flew to Miami and then on to Nassau.”

  “And what happened there?” Rita said.

  Maria shook her head. She looked over to the Lagrassos and then back to me and Mattie.

  “Not with him here,” she said. “Okay? This stuff is too personal.”

  “But you will tell me?” Rita said.

  Maria nodded. Mattie continued to write down some notes. I felt like a voyeur and very much wanted to leave the room and let them continue.

  “Were there other girls on the trip?”

  “Six,” Maria said.

  “Can you recall their names?” Rita said.

  “No,” Maria said, quickly. “I can’t tell you. I made a promise. And I don’t want any trouble. The only reason I came here with Haley is because of Carly Ly.”

  Mattie had told me that morning that the girls wanted her help in exchange for talking to Rita. Maria reached into her back pocket and unfolded a piece of paper, spreading it out with her hands. It was a missing-person bill looking for a young woman named Carly Ly, also fifteen and also from Revere.

  “Oh, God,” Rosie said, putting her hand to her mouth. “So awful. Just so awful.”

  I read the bill and passed it over to Rita. The photo was of a smiling, pretty Asian girl with short bangs and braces. She’d been missing since the second of May.

  “What do her parents think?”

  “I don’t know,” Haley said. “Her father doesn’t speak English.”

  “My mother says they went to the police,” Maria said. “But they’ve heard nothing back.”

  Mattie nodded, looked across to Rita and then leaned in to the table. “Tell them what you told me.”

  “I heard Carly was taking more trips with Mr. Steiner,” Maria said. “She dropped out of school this winter and had gone to work for him full-time. I think she was on that island a whole lot of times. I don’t know. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I should’ve never done any of it.”

  Rosie shook her head. “So young,” she said. “So stupid. What were you girls even thinking?”

  Haley had her head down, picking at her short nails. Maria just stared at Rosie.

  “I needed the money,” Maria said.

  Haley kept on crying. “They were so nice to me, Mom,” she said. “They made me feel like they cared.”

  “I care,” Rosie said. “I care.”

  Rita reached over and pushed a button on the laptop and snapped it shut. I stood up and so did Mattie. She came up to my shoulder, crossing he
r arms and looking across at Rita.

  “Where are you two going?” she said.

  “To find Carly Ly,” Mattie said.

  I grabbed as many sandwiches as I could carry in a napkin and followed her out. As I left the room, Rita started recording again. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s take it from the top. Maria, tell me about meeting Poppy Palmer.”

  Chloe Turner, Amelia Lynch, Grace and Bri Bennett, Haley Lagrasso, and Maria Tran. Now there were six.

  37

  I sat with Mattie and Carly Ly’s father in the back of a Vietnamese restaurant on Revere Beach. He was a smallish man with jet-black hair and enormous gold glasses. He had a lot to say, although I needed one of his waitresses to translate.

  “He says the police are of no help,” the woman said.

  It was raining outside on the beach, along with a lot of thunder and lightning.

  “Did she ever mention working for a man named Peter Steiner?” Mattie said.

  Mr. Ly held up his hand. He understood what was being asked. He nodded and then spoke for a long while. We waited and listened.

  “Yes,” the woman said. “He never met Mr. Steiner, but he has been of no help, either. Steiner told the police that Carly didn’t show up for work and he hasn’t heard anything from her.”

  Mattie looked over at me. Rain dappled her Red Sox jacket.

  “Does he know his daughter dropped out of school?”

  Mr. Ly grew even more agitated and spoke for a long while. He threw up his hands and went on and on. He was visibly upset.

  The translator looked to us and said, “Yes.”

  “All that for a yes?” I said.

  She nodded. The woman was in her late twenties, with shoulder-length black hair, and wore an apron over a T-shirt and jeans. Between translations, she would disappear into the kitchen and bring out another order to the mostly empty restaurant. A white couple, looking very Cambridge, sat at a booth by the window sipping pho.

  Thunder rattled the windows and the front door. The rain hammered the pavement and street along the beachfront. How it clatters along the roofs, like the tramp of hoofs.

  “What did the police tell you?” Mattie said.