Rough Weather

Home > Mystery > Rough Weather > Page 10
Rough Weather Page 10

by Robert B. Parker


  I nodded.

  “I wonder what Tony would have to do with two guys from Whatzistan,” I said.

  “Nothing legal,” Quirk said.

  “Maybe we’ll find out,” I said.

  “We won’t get anything on Tony,” Quirk said. “One of Dillard’s jobs, if Tony’s involved, is to make sure Tony don’t get mentioned.”

  “Language barrier doesn’t help,” I said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Quirk said. “I got a call in to Epstein, see if he can find us somebody.”

  “I wonder where Ms. Glas is from,” I said.

  “We’ll find out,” Quirk said. “Before the ADA gets here, you got anything you want to tell me about why two immigrant gunnies want to kill you?”

  “Why would anyone?” I said.

  “Hard to imagine,” Quirk said. “You think it’s got anything to do with Tashtego?”

  “You know I’m still involved with that?” I said.

  “I keep track of you,” Quirk said. “For my scrapbook.”

  “Might be Tashtego,” I said. “You remember the Gray Man.”

  “Yep.”

  “He might have become annoyed.”

  “What I know about the Gray Man,” Quirk said, “he’d have done it himself.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That bothers me a little, too.”

  34

  It was nearly an hour before Dillard came into Quirk’s office and sat down beside me, facing Quirk.

  “Ms. Glas is with my clients,” Dillard said. “They were confused when I asked them earlier, language problems, all that. They now say that their injuries were the result of police abuse.”

  “Wow,” Quirk said. “They were confused.”

  “How would you like to handle this?”

  “The police abuse? I got ten independent witnesses to confirm the street altercation where they received the injuries.”

  “Who was the black man in that altercation,” Dillard said.

  “An interested third party,” Quirk said.

  “When we get to trial, I can compel you to reveal his name,” Dillard said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “If we get to trial,” Dillard said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  A heavy young woman with short black hair and a strong nose reached in to knock on the open door to Quirk’s office. She had large horn-rimmed glasses, and a gray pant suit that didn’t fit very well.

  “Come in, Esther,” Quirk said.

  “Hello, Martin,” she said, and looked at Dillard. “How are you, Lamar?”

  She put her hand out to me.

  “I’m Esther Gold,” she said. “I’m the ADA on this case.”

  I gave her my name.

  “You the complainant?” she said.

  “I guess so,” I said.

  She looked at Quirk.

  “Spenser has worked with us in the past,” Quirk said. “I’ve asked him to sit in.”

  Esther nodded.

  “Lamar, you’re representing the two guys whose names I can’t pronounce?” she said.

  “I am,” Dillard said.

  “So let’s talk,” she said.

  “Mr. Dillard,” Quirk said, “was just questioning if we had to proceed to trial with these guys.”

  “What would be our alternative?” Esther said.

  She rummaged in her bag as she spoke and came out with a Kleenex and wiped her nose. She sounded like she might have a cold. She looked around for someplace to throw the Kleenex and found nowhere and stuffed it back in her bag.

  “I don’t know,” Dillard said. “But it’s something we might explore. All lawyers would rather go to trial, Esther, you know that.”

  “I do,” Esther said. “Go ahead. Explore.”

  Dillard leaned back a bit in his chair, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, placed the tips of his fingers together in front of him, and rested his chin on them.

  “They are part of a four-man crew,” Dillard said, “here for reasons not germane to our concerns. The leader of the crew was in the car that escaped the shootout. They fear he may have been the passenger, now presumably dead. He was the one who spoke English, and it was he who negotiated the contract on Mr. Spenser. They were told that the name of the man who put the contract out was Rugar. He was described to them as dressing all in gray. Apparently, they found it amusing.”

  Dillard paused.

  “That’s it?” Esther said.

  “They have no record, they have committed no serious crime.”

  “Other than conspiracy to murder,” Esther said. “Possession of an unlicensed firearm, illegal immigration.”

  Dillard opened his briefcase and took out a manila envelope.

  “Gun permits and immigration papers,” Dillard said. “They were fearful and hid them for fear the police would confiscate them.”

  Quirk looked at me. I grinned. Esther saw it.

  “Captain?” she said.

  “How long ago did you fill in the names?” Quirk said.

  “Captain,” Dillard said. “Your work has soured you.”

  Quirk nodded.

  “It has,” Quirk said.

  “Okay,” Esther said, “you represent two little lambs lost in a strange place. What can they do for me?”

  “They’ve given you the man who hired them,” Dillard said. “They will testify.”

  Esther nodded.

  “I’m sure they’d make compelling witnesses,” she said.

  “As would the, ah, Good Samaritan who assaulted them,” Dillard said. “Whose identity I believe I know.”

  Esther looked at Quirk. Quirk nodded his head toward the door.

  He said, “Let’s you and me confer privately, Esther.”

  They stood.

  As he left the office, Quirk jerked his head at Dillard and said to me, “Don’t let him steal any paper clips.”

  When we were alone, I said to Dillard, “Seen Tony lately?”

  “Tony?”

  “Tony Marcus,” I said. “You represent him, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes,” Dillard said. “You know Tony, do you?”

  “Yep,” I said. “Helped send him up once.”

  Dillard nodded without speaking.

  “Why would Tony Marcus’s expensive mouthpiece be interested in a couple of goons from Itty-bitty-stan?” I said.

  “Tony is not my only client,” Dillard said.

  “You got any that Tony disapproves of?” I said.

  “The implication is insulting,” Dillard said.

  “Good,” I said. “You want to have a duel?”

  “Why do you wish to insult me?” Dillard said. Very dignified.

  “I think Tony’s gotten himself involved in all of this somehow,” I said, “and your job is to get him uninvolved. If that means getting the two goons off, fine. If it means throwing them off the back of the sled, fine. Nobody knows what they actually said to you except your translator and maybe you.”

  “You are, of course, free to speculate,” Dillard said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Quirk came back into his office with Esther.

  “We’ll keep them,” Esther said.

  Dillard said, “That’s disappointing, Esther.”

  Esther smiled.

  “And I feel really bad about it,” she said. “But we thought it might be nice to have our own translator talk with them, you know? Some sort of investigation before we let go of them.”

  “Arraignment?” Dillard said.

  “Someone from my office will call you,” Esther said. “Let you know.”

  “It should be prompt,” Dillard said.

  “Of course it should,” Esther said.

  “Very well,” Dillard said. “I’ll need to talk with my clients, explain their situation.”

  “Feel free,” Esther said. “I’ll walk you back.”

  Esther said good-bye to Quirk, nodded at me, and followed Dillard out of the office.

  “Gee,” I said, “Lamar d
idn’t say good-bye to either one of us.”

  “Not a friendly guy,” Quirk said.

  I nodded.

  “Rugar worked with me up in Marshport a while back,” I said. “Tony Marcus was in that mix. In fact, he lent us a guy named Leonard . . .”

  “I know Leonard,” Quirk said.

  “So Leonard worked with Rugar,” I said.

  “Which means Rugar and Tony have a connection,” Quirk said. “Maybe we can roll them both up.”

  “Think big,” I said.

  “That’s what my wife always says.”

  “Wishful thinking,” I said. “You’re Irish.”

  “Jesus,” Quirk said. “The secret’s out.”

  35

  Pearl was visiting in my office, as she often did when Susan was busy all day and out in the evening. When Healy came in he saw her on the couch and paused to pat her. She wagged her tail but didn’t get off the couch.

  “Bring Your Dog to Work Day?” Healy said.

  “I get so lonely,” I said.

  “We got a ransom demand,” Healy said. “For Adelaide Van Meer.”

  “Who got it, her mother?”

  “Yep. Five million dollars.”

  “Note,” Healy said. “Block letters, looks like someone printed them with their off hand.”

  “Payoff instructions?”

  “To come,” Healy said.

  He took a photocopy of a letter from his inside pocket and smoothed it out on my desktop in front of me.

  IF YOU WANT YOUR DAUGHTER BACK

  COME UP WITH $5 MILLION.

  YOU HAVE A WEEK TO GET IT.

  WE’LL CONTACT YOU THEN.

  “How’d it arrive?” I said.

  “By ordinary mail, according to her,” Healy said. “She ‘thought-lessly disposed’ of the envelope before she realized it was important. No return address. Postmarked, she thinks, in Boston.”

  “She going to pay?”

  “Yes. Says she is going to talk with Adelaide’s father about it.”

  “You told her that paying was no guarantee she’d see her daughter.”

  “I did,” Healy said. “I also told her that not paying was no guarantee of seeing her daughter.”

  I stood up. Pearl raised her head. A walk was possible. A cookie? I walked across the room and patted her.

  “She share any other thoughts with you?” I said.

  “None worth repeating,” Healy said. “She’s ‘horribly worried’ about her daughter.”

  I nodded. Pearl realized the pat was all she was getting, and put her head back down on the couch. I walked back to my desk and stood and looked out the window.

  “Whaddya think?” I said to Healy.

  “I think it’s bullshit,” Healy said.

  “Took them an awful long time to send the ransom note,” I said.

  “Might be a wacko,” Healy said. “Might be some harebrain who had nothing to do with the kidnapping.”

  “Along for the ride,” I said. “Thinks he can score a little cash from somebody else’s crime.”

  “It happens,” Healy said.

  “I know. You think it’s one of those?”

  “They usually show up sooner than this, also,” Healy said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “They do.”

  “You got a theory?” Healy said.

  “The ransom’s an afterthought,” I said.

  “What kind of a kidnapping has the ransom as an afterthought?” Healy said.

  “One not about the ransom,” I said.

  “Most not-ransom kidnappings are about child custody,” Healy said. “Or sexual perversion, or another kind of ransom.”

  “Give us the plans to the atom bomb or you’ll never see your daughter again,” I said.

  “Something like that.”

  “None of those seem to be in play here,” I said.

  “No. This seems like something being made up as they go along,” Healy said. “You know this guy, Rugar. That his style?”

  “No.”

  “Some people took a run at you, and bungled it.”

  “You know about that,” I said.

  “I’m a trained investigator,” Healy said. “That Rugar’s style?”

  “No.”

  “But it was Rugar did the kidnapping,” Healy said.

  “I saw him do it,” I said.

  “Maybe that’s what you were there for?”

  “You think?” I said.

  “I don’t think,” Healy said. “I guess. If I knew something, maybe I could think.”

  “If I was there for a purpose related to the kidnapping, then it would mean that Heidi knew it would happen,” I said. “She’s the one who hired me.”

  “So?”

  “So if she is, your theory of the crime is that she had six people killed, including her new son-in-law, and her daughter kidnapped, and hired me to be there so I could watch.”

  “It’s a theory,” Healy said.

  “Motive?” I said.

  “Picky, picky,” Healy said.

  We were quiet. I realized I didn’t know what I was looking at out the window. I turned from the window and sat back down at my desk.

  “Suppose the son-in-law had a will?” I said.

  “Of course he did. People in that bracket, they have wills and trusts and pre-nups and post-nups and up-nups . . .”

  “Be nice we could see the pre-nup and the will,” I said.

  Healy was quiet for a time, looking at the thought.

  “Wouldn’t do any harm,” he said. “But even if it is for money, the very late ransom demand makes no sense.”

  “So maybe it’s time to unleash the forensic accountants,” I said. “Can you do that?”

  “I am a captain in the Massachusetts State Police,” Healy said.

  “I’ll take that for a yes,” I said.

  Healy grinned.

  “Tallyho!” he said.

  36

  Despite that it was November, Susan and I spent two days at a resort in Rhode Island, in a big cottage on the beach. The cottage had a fireplace and a king-sized bed, and in the late afternoon of the first day we were lying on the bed, with the fire burning, looking at the ocean. It was a clear blue day, just starting to darken, and the pre-winter ocean looked gray and hard as it rolled up onto the smooth sand where the seabirds hopped about.

  “‘Roll on,’” I said, “‘thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sail over thee in vain.’”

  “Is that Byron?” Susan said.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  Outside our picture window, the seabirds were very busy at the edge of the waves, scooting back and forth as the waves came in and broke and spread out on the beach. I assumed they were looking for things edible that the waves had roiled up. But I never did know for sure, and when I brought the question up to Susan, she trivialized it. I got up and added wood to the fire and came back and re-propped my pillow and lay on the bed beside her.

  “Are we just going to lie on the bed all afternoon and look at the ocean?” Susan said.

  “We can look at the fire, too,” I said.

  “That’s it?”

  “Except for occasional outbursts of scandalous sexuality,” I said.

  “Oh,” Susan said.

  She stood up and took off her tank top, and unsnapped her bra and let it slide down her arms.

  “Do you feel such an outburst approaching?” I said.

  “I fear that I’m in its grasp,” Susan said.

  She unzipped her skirt and dropped it to the floor and stepped out of it, and wiggled out of her fairly exotic underpants.

  “Would you experience it as depravity,” I said, “if I suggested that you leave the high heels on?”

  “I would,” she said.

  “But?” I said.

  “I admire depravity,” she said.

  “Does this mean I should disrobe?” I said.

  “Yes,” Susan said.

  So I did. And when I was done, Susan
smiled, gave me a thumbs-up, and jumped on me. Then, for a while, the rest was silence . . . of a sort.

  By the time we were finished it had gotten dark, and the ocean was visible mostly as the white foam of the beached waves showed in the moonlight. As soon as we were through making love, Susan squirmed under the covers and pulled them up to her chin.

  “Um,” she said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I said.

  “We left the shades open,” Susan said.

  “So we did,” I said.

  “What if someone had passed by?”

  “Might have been instructive for them,” I said.

  We lay quietly for a time. Only the ocean moved in the darkness outside our window. My gun was on the bedside table.

  Susan looked at it.

  “There it is,” she said.

  “My gun?” I said.

  “Our constant companion,” Susan said.

  “Better to have it and not need it . . .” I said.

  “I know,” Susan said. “I know all that.”

  “Part of the business,” I said.

  “I know that, too,” Susan said.

  “You have a gun,” I said.

  “Yes,” Susan said.

  “You’d use it if you had to,” I said.

  “I would.”

  We lay quietly, listening to the ocean.

  After a while, I said, “I believe the cocktail hour is upon us.”

  “In a minute,” Susan said.

  She rolled over against me and put her arms around me and pressed her face against my chest. We stayed that way for a time. Then Susan let go and rolled over and bounced out of bed.

  “I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” she said.

  “You will not,” I said.

  “Will too,” she said.

  It actually took her forty-eight minutes. But it was well worth the wait.

  37

  While I was examining the well-dressed young women passing below me on Berkeley Street, the phone rang. Still looking out my window, I picked it up and said “Hello.”

  “I’m in Franklin Park,” Quirk said to me on the phone. “Near White Stadium. You might want to drop by.”

  “Okay,” I said, and hung up.

  It was a very nice fall day, more October than November, and a lot of the people walking by were coatless. I watched one especially attractive woman walk across Boylston Street and into Louis’s before I put on a leather jacket to cover my gun, and went downstairs to get my car.

 

‹ Prev