15
Healy came into my office without knocking, carrying a briefcase, and sat down in one of the client chairs that I had arranged hopefully in front of my desk. He opened the briefcase, took out a blue manila folder, and tossed it onto my desk.
“Background,” Healy said. “The results of our extensive research.”
“Folder looks kind of thin,” I said.
“I knew you’d be grateful,” Healy said.
I slid the folder toward myself and left it closed on the desktop.
“Can’t wait to read it,” I said. “Is there a ransom request yet?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“You think they’d tell you?” I said.
“I think so.”
“Even if they were warned not to?” I said.
“Most people are so shook by the whole thing they want to turn it over to us regardless.”
I nodded.
“Unless they can hire some guy like you,” Healy said.
“There is no guy like me,” I said. “Except me.”
“And you don’t know anything about a ransom.”
“No,” I said.
“And you’d tell me if you did,” Healy said.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Ah,” Healy said. “The spirit of cooperation.”
“What else you got?” I said.
“The final body count,” Healy said, “not counting the guy you say went off the cliff, we haven’t found him yet, is six.”
I counted on my fingers.
“The minister,” I said, “the groom, four security guys.”
“Shot?”
“Yep,” Healy said. “Single shot to the head, all of them.”
“Same gun?” I said.
“Probably,” Healy said. “We can’t find a couple of the slugs, and some of the ones we did find are so mangled from ricocheting around inside the vic that the lab can’t do anything with them. The ones we can use all came from the same nine-millimeter weapon.”
“Rugar had a Glock,” I said.
Healy nodded.
“Six people,” Healy said.
“In an afternoon,” I said.
Healy nodded.
“You find out where the chopper landed?” I said.
“No.”
“Hard to land one where nobody notices,” I said.
“Easy if you do it where choppers come and go all day,” Healy said.
“Good point,” I said.
“Minister was head of some big-time Episcopal church in NYC,” Healy said. “The groom is from a very wealthy family in Philadelphia. Pharmaceuticals. Father is very active in Republican politics. He was an ambassador somewhere, and then he was secretary of something for a while.”
“Which is his reward for being active,” I said.
“I wonder what the punishment would be,” Healy said.
“I know,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to do it, either. What did the kid do?”
“Vice president of one of the companies,” Healy said.
“How old was he?”
“Twenty-three,” Healy said. “Worked his way up.”
“If you’re going to practice nepotism,” I said, “you may as well keep it in the family. Where’d he go to school?”
“Penn,” Healy said.
“How’d he meet Adelaide?”
“Mutual friend,” Healy said. “It’s in the folder.”
“How about the Tashtego patrol guys?” I said.
“Usual. Two of them were cops in Westport, one had been in the Marines, one was an MP. All of them had a little college. Enough so they could talk to rich people without falling down.”
“Anything not usual?” I said.
“Nothing. No connection we could find to anyone. No criminal record, any of them. The security service was bonded.”
“Any of them get off a shot?” I said.
“No.”
“Clear the holster?”
“No.”
We were quiet for a while.
“He’s a piece of work,” Healy said finally.
“Rugar?
Healy nodded.
“Six people,” he said. “In a couple of hours.”
We were quiet again.
Then I said, “Whaddya think?”
Healy shook his head.
“It’s the worst way to kidnap somebody I’ve ever seen,” Healy said.
“And no ransom demand,” I said. “And didn’t they have any idea there’d be a damn typhoon?”
“I checked,” Healy said. “Weather people said it would miss us.”
“Of course they did,” I said.
“This smells bad,” Healy said. “The only thing that keeps it from smelling worse is that it’s so loony that maybe we’re missing something.”
“Rugar is no amateur,” I said.
“That bothers me, too,” Healy said. “And you bother me. What the fuck were you there for?”
“Arm candy?” I said.
“Besides that,” Healy said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “You ask her?”
“I did. She told me the same crap about having a man at her side that she told you.”
“I bet she knows a lot of men,” I said.
“It’s like a radio signal, isn’t it?” Healy said.
“Loud and clear,” I said.
“So why hire one?” Healy said.
“She must have wanted a guy with my skill set,” I said.
“Must be the case,” Healy said. “But she’s got a security force on the island. Why hire you?”
“Because I am more powerful than a speeding locomotive?”
“But not as smart,” Healy said. “Be nice to know what she thought your skill set was.”
“I could ask her,” I said.
“And you could ask whoever recommended you to her,” Healy said.
“If we knew,” I said.
“You’re a detective,” Healy said. “Maybe you can find out.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll ask around.”
16
Neither Quirk nor Belson had had any contact with Heidi Bradshaw. In fact, Belson claimed not to know who she was.
“For crissake, Frank,” I said. “That’s like not knowing who Jackie Onassis was.”
“Who?” Belson said.
I think he was kidding.
I sat for a while with my feet up on my desk. Someone like Heidi would probably ask her lawyer. Her lawyers probably weren’t the kind who would know about the likes of me. So they’d call someone. Probably a criminal lawyer. The best one in this part of the country was Rita Fiore. I called her.
“You know who Heidi Bradshaw is?” I said.
“Of course.”
“She or anyone representing her get in touch with you and ask for a superhero?”
“As an attorney at law,” Rita said, “I am bound by the ethics of my profession to reveal nothing to you without at least extracting lunch.”
“I like a person with standards,” I said. “Grill 23 in an hour?”
“Upstairs,” she said. “It’s more intimate.”
“Intimate,” I said.
I got there first, climbed the curving staircase, and was at a table for four in a quiet corner, drinking iced tea, when Rita showed up. She might not have quite equaled Susan for gorgeous, but she was certainly as noticeable. A lot of thick auburn hair, some sort of close-fitting green outfit with a skirt that stopped above the knees, and boots that stopped below them.
Close-fitting is not always good news with lawyers, but Rita was quite precisely designed for it. She had large sunglasses pushed up onto her head, and was carrying a purse that would work as a hammock for Pygmies. She put the purse on an empty chair and sat down next to me. She leaned over and kissed me carefully, not messing up her lip gloss.
“My calendar is clear for the afternoon,” she said. “Shall we order champagne?”
“Between husbands?” I said.
“Even if I weren’t,” she said.
“Tea’s good for you,” I said.
“That’s what they said about spinach,” Rita said.
When the waiter arrived she ordered a champagne cocktail.
“So did you recommend my services to anyone?” I said.
“When I was a prosecutor,” she said, “in Norfolk County, I knew a guy in the same office named Jimmy Gabriel. He’s now the managing partner in the firm of Gabriel and Whitcomb in New Bedford.”
The waiter brought Rita her cocktail. She sampled it, looked pleased, and put it down.
“He called me and said that Heidi Bradshaw was looking for a smart, tough, presentable guy to be with her for a three-day wedding weekend. Tough and presentable, you were an easy choice,” Rita said. “I choked a little on smart but couldn’t think of anybody else.”
“He say why she wanted me?”
“No. I warned him that I had been trying for about twenty years to get you to spend a three-day weekend with me, but that you were the functional equivalent of married. He said that Heidi’s interests weren’t sexual.”
“Damn,” I said.
“Yeah,” Rita said, “I know. It’s disappointing to hear, isn’t it?”
“What kind of a firm is Gabriel and Whitcomb?” I said.
“One that specializes in clients who can afford them,” Rita said.
“In New Bedford?” I said.
“Not a wealthy city, but there’s money along the south coast.”
“I could see that,” I said. “And you didn’t want to give me a heads-up?”
Rita shook her head. She had picked up her glass again and was looking at me over it.
“I wanted you to say yea or nay on its own merits. I know you. You believe in favors. If you thought I wanted you to do it, or needed you to do it, you’d do it.”
I nodded. Rita sipped her champagne cocktail. Then she put it down and leaned her forearms on the table and looked at me for a long moment.
“You were there, I assume, when the ball went up,” she said.
“Yep.”
“What did you do?” Rita said.
“Mostly I wandered around in the hurricane like Lear on the heath,” I said.
“Change places and handy dandy,” Rita said.
“Which is the justice,” I said, “which is the thief?”
“Think we got the quotes right?”
“Close enough,” I said.
“Was Susan there?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’ll bet your heath wandering was in her interest,” Rita said.
“You think?” I said.
“You are as predictable as sunrise.”
“Or sunset,” I said.
“I’m a glass-half-full girl,” Rita said. “Even though you have rejected me for twenty years.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” I said.
“That’s comforting,” Rita said.
She opened her menu.
“They have the best meatloaf in the known universe,” I said.
“For lunch?” Rita said.
“Sometimes.”
“A nice salad will do for me,” she said. “Criminal defense lawyers shouldn’t have a fat ass.”
“You seem in little danger,” I said.
“How would you know?” she said.
“I pay close attention to such matters,” I said.
“Not close enough,” she said.
“Well, I have a lot of eyewitness testimony to support my position,” I said.
Rita giggled, which was always fun to see.
“Oh, fuck you,” she said.
“Or not,” I said.
She giggled again.
“How long have we been dancing this dance?” Rita said.
“More than twenty years,” I said.
“And I’ve never gotten you into bed,” she said.
“Not many men can claim that,” I said.
She put her hand out and I put mine on top of it.
“I hope the music never stops,” she said.
I patted her hand for a moment.
“They don’t seem to have meatloaf on the lunch menu today,” I said.
“Life is not without disappointment,” Rita said.
“So far,” I said.
We were quiet.
Then Rita said, “You want me to call Jimmy? Tell him you’ll be stopping by?”
“If you would,” I said.
17
Gabriel and Whitcomb had offices in a recycled warehouse near the waterfront. Old brick, exposed beams, a lot of hanging greenery, some stained glass. It could have been a cocktail lounge in San Diego. From his corner office, Jimmy could look out at the bridge to Fairhaven, where the waters of the Acushnet River began to mingle with the harbor. On a small sideboard near the windows were pictures of a handsome blonde woman in golf clothes, and two soon-to-be-handsome blonde girls in riding clothes.
Jimmy himself was slim and sharp-faced with longish black hair combed straight back. He wore a blue blazer and a white shirt, no tie, gray slacks, and black loafers, no socks. There was a Rolex on his left wrist. Casual elegance. His dark eyes studied me with piercing sincerity.
“Any friend of Rita’s,” he said.
“Rita has a lot of friends,” I said.
“You got that right,” Jimmy said.
His smile was wide and warm, and just as sincere as his eyes.
“You represent Heidi Bradshaw,” I said.
“The firm does,” Jimmy said.
“In all legal matters?”
“Oh, God, no,” Jimmy said. “At her level, she needs all sorts of expertise. We are sort of legal triage for her; we field her problems, solve them when it’s our area, find the right people to solve them if it’s another area.”
“Which is how you got to me,” I said.
“We respect Rita’s recommendation, and may I say, hers for you was absolutely glowing.”
“And richly deserved,” I said. “Why did Heidi want someone in the first place?”
Jimmy did several noncommittal things with his head, shoulders, and hands.
“Heidi is Heidi,” he said.
“I noticed that,” I said. “What did she say she wanted someone for?”
“Goddamn,” Jimmy said. “I’m sorry. But I can’t . . . you know, privilege and all that.”
“How did she phrase her request to you?” I said.
“Geez,” Jimmy said, “you were there, weren’t you, for all the trouble.”
“I was,” I said.
“God, I’m sorry. What a tragedy.”
“How did she ask for the someone that turned out to be me?” I said.
“God, Spenser, I’m sorry. I really am,” Jimmy said. “Rita told me about you when she called to say you’d be coming by.”
“That I was articulate and charming?”
“She said that you wouldn’t let it alone. That since you were there you’d take it personal and all that. I know you are just trying to find Adelaide.”
“I am,” I said.
“But I can’t talk about clients, you know? I start doing that, how many do I have left after a while?”
I nodded.
“So you probably won’t fill me in on her marriages, her relationships with her ex-husbands, her relationship with her daughter, her son-in-law, his family, her financial circumstances, her sex life, her social life. Friends? Booze? Drugs? Gamble? Debt?”
“Oh my God, no,” Jimmy said. “Jesus . . . no comment. No fucking comment.”
I nodded.
“Rita said you asked for someone smart, tough, and presentable,” I said.
Jimmy recovered from his horror sufficiently to smile self-effacingly.
“The firm’s language,” he said.
“But I assume she didn’t ask for stupid, fearful, and repellent,” I said.
“We tried to rephrase her accurately,” Jimmy said. “Obviously, you’re the kind of guy she had in mind
.”
“And wasn’t I useful,” I said.
“I’m sure you did what you could,” Jimmy said. “One man . . .”
I nodded.
“And you had your girlfriend to look out for,” Jimmy said.
I nodded. Apparently, Jimmy knew more than he pretended to about the stormy night on Tashtego.
“You arrange the Tashtego security patrol?” I said.
“We located the proper company for her, and made the deal.”
“What’s the company?”
Jimmy thought about it for a moment, and decided it was not in violation of his sacred honor to tell me.
“Absolute Security,” he said. “In Providence.”
“Who do I talk to?”
“Artie Fonseca,” Jimmy said. “He’s the CEO.”
“Who might want something like this to happen?” I said.
“The killing, the kidnapping? I assume some psychopath thought he could make some money.”
I shook my head.
“I know the guy who ran the operation,” I said. “He probably wouldn’t do a kidnapping for money. There are a lot of easier ways. And if he did do a kidnapping for money, he wouldn’t do it this way. Helicopters, for crissake?”
“You think somebody hired him?”
“I do.”
“Who on earth . . . ?”
“My question exactly,” I said.
18
“I lost four guys,” Fonseca said.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
“I don’t like it,” Fonseca said. “Losing people.”
“It’s tough,” I said.
“I don’t like it,” he said.
He was a spare, middle-sized man with a shaved head and a big mustache. He looked in shape.
“Tell me about the operation,” I said.
“The patrol?”
“The patrol,” I said. “The company. Anything that might be useful.”
“We do business around the country. Rich, low-profile people mostly, estate security, bodyguards . . . you know.”
“Heidi Bradshaw is hardly low-profile.”
“Her money’s as good as if she were,” Fonseca said.
“Do any investigation?”
“Nope, strictly protection,” Fonseca said.
“Ever run into anything like this before?” I said.
Rough Weather Page 5