“And she couldn’t before, because he was her savior.”
“Yes. She needed to believe he was a good man just as much as he apparently does. It could also be that Slide is a trigger of sorts. For whatever reason, she’s protective of him in a way she’s never felt toward another human being, and that has caused her to see Alvarez in a different light.”
“So do you think I should help her?”
“You’ve already agreed to help her. What I’m curious about is what you plan to do if your commitments conflict.”
“You mean Jackie and Street Business.”
“Yes,” she said. “What if doing a good thing by bringing down Alvarez causes a bad thing to happen to a good cause?”
“Go with the greater good?”
“Is that the understanding you have with Jackie?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then what?”
“‘First client wins’ doesn’t work, either.”
“No.”
“Then I guess I just need to make sure there’s no conflict.”
“Yes, you will.”
We were silent for a moment.
“Shall I start dinner?” I said.
“Maybe we need to burn off those cookies first,” Susan said.
I looked over at Pearl, who was curled up and sleeping in front of the fire.
“She doesn’t look like she’s ready for a run,” I said.
“I’m sure we can agree on an alternative,” Susan said.
“Might it involve seeing you naked?”
“Only if you keep your eyes open.”
“Hot diggity.” I held out my hand. “Lay on, MacDuff!” I said.
And she did.
THE LIGHT SNOW BLEW AROUND in circles outside my office window. I was sharpening my powers of reasoning and analysis by reading comics in the Globe when Healy came in. He went to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup, added milk and sugar, and took a seat opposite my desk.
“Have some coffee,” I said.
“Generous of you to offer,” Healy said. He looked around. “Any bagels?”
Healy wore a light blue shirt and gray jacket with navy blue pants and a blue-and-red narrow striped tie.
I shook my head.
“What is that you’re reading?” He stirred his coffee.
“Tank McNamara.”
“Good to see you haven’t lost the love of learning.”
“I tried reading Aristotle,” I said, “but the comics have better pictures.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, “in case I ever learn to read.” He eyed me over the rim of his mug.
“Thanks for dropping by,” I said.
“You call, I spring into action,” he said. “Although I was expecting bagels.” He took another sip. “So what’s so confidential we couldn’t have this conversation over the phone.”
“I need some help,” I said. “Do you know somebody named Juan Alvarez? Rich guy. Import/export business out of Boston. Big spread in Weston where he keeps his horses and illegal immigrants and probably some other stuff I don’t know about yet.”
“I’ve heard of him. Don’t know him. Never arrested for anything that I can remember. I’ll run his name. What’s your interest?”
“I’ve got reason to believe he’s running drugs and laundering money, perhaps as part of a Mexican drug cartel. He may also be involved in murder and human trafficking, including children.”
“Sounds like a prince,” Healy said.
I told Healy about Carmen and what she had relayed to me.
Healy leaned back in the chair. “She credible, this Carmen?”
“I think so.”
“Maybe she had a fight with Alvarez, wants to teach him a lesson. Maybe she wants to take over his business once he’s out of the picture.”
I shook my head. “I don’t read it that way. I believe her.”
Healy gazed at me for a long moment. “That’s good enough for me. Like I said, I’ll run the file. What about these properties? Estate in Weston I understand. Legit business office in the Financial District. But the houses on Curtis Street. Fill me in.”
I did.
“He owns the whole block?”
“All but one building, which he bought for his brother, who runs it as a shelter for runaways and street kids. Calls it Street Business.”
“Think I’ve heard of it. Supposed to be okay. So what’s the caveat?”
“Apparently Alvarez has covered himself pretty well, because any paper you’ve got on that place is a sham. Street Business isn’t licensed. Probably a boatload of Child Protective Services violations, but it’s serving a need and doing good work. I want to take down Alvarez and leave Street Business standing.”
Healy shook his head. “Jesus, you don’t ask much, do you, Spenser. And how, exactly, does a mere public servant like me fit in to your plans?”
“I need to find out what law enforcement knows about Alvarez and his business. I want to know who might have an interest in him—Feds, state, local—and for what. When I have that, I’ll think up a way to smoke him out, something that sends him over the edge. If it works, Captain Healy of the Massachusetts State Police swoops in at just the right time and hauls him in.”
“And his brother’s illegal truant hostel somehow stands clear of the blast zone.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Shouldn’t be too tough for a tough guy like you.”
Healy exhaled loudly. “You’re looking for a real fucking Christmas miracle.”
“Courtesy of the Massachusetts State Police.”
Healy stood up. “Look, let’s take this in steps. I’ll see what we’ve got on Alvarez, and whether there’s any interest. If not, I’ll forget I ever heard the name Street Business and head for the nearest wassail bowl. If there’s something to go on, we’ll move to step two. But best case, Alvarez goes down for something, we can’t ignore an unlicensed kids’ shelter in the middle of Boston. Something’s got to change there. You might want to think about how to solve that part.”
“I know,” I said. “Alvarez goes down, the funding for Street Business vaporizes anyway. I didn’t say it was a perfect plan.”
“It isn’t any plan yet,” said Healy. He walked over to the sink and rinsed out his mug.
“I really should start going to Dunkin’ Donuts for my coffee from now on, like a real cop,” he said.
“You’d miss the stimulating conversation,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Next time we can discuss Garfield.” He opened the door and left.
HEALY CALLED BACK the next morning.
“It’s your lucky day,” he said. “Turns out there’s a great deal of interest in your friend Mr. Alvarez.”
“From where?”
“The Feds have been looking at him for some time, for both drug and human trafficking. They’re so eager they’ve actually requested our cooperation. Both Middlesex and Suffolk County DA’s offices are in on it.”
“And they haven’t been able to nail him on anything?”
“No,” Healy said. “He’s apparently pretty slick. Covers his tracks well, and is well connected politically. Feeling is they may be running out of time.”
“Why’s that?”
“Those buildings you mentioned, downtown Boston? He just transferred title for all of them into a family trust. Prepaid his property taxes as well. Liquidated some other hard assets—stocks, bonds—into cash. And the word is that he moved out whoever or whatever has been in there around the same time.”
“When was this?”
“About a month ago.”
I thought for a moment. “About the time someone started hassling Street Business.”
“Now, it could just be a coincidence,” Healy said. “He could just be doing some year-end tax planning
. But it’s also the kind of thing someone does when he’s about to disappear for a while.”
I considered the options. It could just be a coincidence, but thinking it was didn’t get me anywhere. “Moving people out doesn’t sound like tax planning. Any idea where the people or things got moved to?”
“No clue. There were eyes on the place, but apparently it’s so deserted it was tough to get close without being noticed. Happened pretty quick, most likely at night.”
“Raising cash sounds like he could be getting ready to bolt. Your sources have any thoughts on what he might be doing?”
“Not really, but could be he’s preparing to flee the jurisdiction. Guy with his kind of money and connections could just drop off the grid.”
“So now it’s time for step two.”
“Yes. Do you have a step two?”
“Not yet. It’s in progress.”
“I understand,” said Healy, getting up. “You got hung up on Garfield.”
“Can’t fool you,” I said. “I’ll call you when I’ve got a plan.”
CARMEN HAD GIVEN ME her cell phone number. I called her.
“I have some questions for you,” I said.
“I can’t talk now,” she said. Her voice was low and muffled. “Can you come out to Weston?”
“Yes,” I said. “When?”
“How about six tomorrow morning? I’m staying at Martita’s house. Our friend will be in Boston overnight and won’t be back until late morning.”
“Make sure you give the sentries a heads-up that I’m coming and that I’m friendly. Last time I visited, I almost got shot.”
“I heard about that,” Carmen said. “I think that guy is still looking for his rifle.”
I WAS ON THE ROAD to Weston at five-thirty the next morning. The sky was reddening past the tree line and by the time I got to the gates of the Alvarez compound the sun was up. The air was cold, the temperature in the twenties, and the snow was still white and unspoiled on the ground. I turned in to the driveway. The two granite lion heads on posts on either side had been decorated with Christmas wreaths of pine and cedar embellished with clumps of acorns and tied with big red velvet ribbons. I drove past the main house to the small cottage where Hawk and I had found Martita and her baby. I parked and went to the door. Before I could knock, Slide opened it. “Carmen said to bring you to the barn. She forgot to tell you she has an early tennis lesson.” He was wearing his navy peacoat, but this time with a wool cap that came down over his ears.
He followed me to the car and got in the backseat. We drove slowly down a narrow lane to the big barn and parked alongside it. Slide led me through a small door to an office, which led into a huge open space. In the middle was a tennis court, where a man and a woman were playing. As we walked closer I could see that one of them was Carmen, in a pink sweatshirt over navy Under Armour tights, and she was playing a tall, thick-set man in dark gray sweats and a white T-shirt.
Slide and I sat in the bleachers and watched. Carmen served. She tossed the ball up with authority. Her racquet arm swung back, up, and over in a fluid arc. The ball landed on her opponent’s back line before he had a chance to move. The man yelled, “Carmen, for crissake, this is a lesson, not the Open. Give me a break!”
“You’ll never get better if I don’t push you, Sam,” Carmen said. Her dark hair was pulled back into a single braid and tied with a pink ribbon.
She looked over at us. “Hey, guys. I’ll be through in ten.”
“Looking good,” I said.
It was Sam’s turn to serve, and he wasn’t bad. Carmen swatted it back easily, and the ball landed at his feet where he couldn’t return it. “Move your feet,” she yelled at him. “Keep moving your feet.”
After ten minutes Sam looked as though he might need a defibrillator. Carmen walked smartly off the court, draped a towel around her neck, shook hands with the hapless Sam, and joined us.
“Take no prisoners,” I said.
“These rich guys don’t feel they get their money’s worth unless I make them suffer a little,” she said and grinned. “How’s my boy,” she said to Slide, putting a hand on his cheek, and he beamed at her.
“You play real good,” he said.
“For an old lady of twenty-nine, not bad. You play, Spenser?”
“Tennis is not part of my skill set,” I said.
She laughed. “I wouldn’t make you suffer. I like you. Slide, Spenser and I have some grown-up stuff to talk about. Would you go help Martita with the laundry and feed the baby? I’ll see you later.” Slide nodded, eyes wide, and took off.
“There’s coffee. Want some?” Carmen said. I nodded and followed her to a small bar area. I poured myself a mug while she took a bottle of water from a fridge beneath the bar.
“A couple of things occurred to me after our last conversation,” I said.
She smiled. “Of course. But couldn’t you have asked me over the phone?”
“I like to see faces when I ask questions. What you say and how you say it are equally important to me.” I could hear Susan’s voice in my head. “Juan Alvarez is suspicious that I’m nosing around in his business. It occurred to me that he may be using you to find out how much I know, and to share what I know with you so that you can report it all back to him.”
“You don’t trust me,” she said.
“In my business, that’s what keeps you alive.”
“So ask your questions.”
“You told me you learned Juan is a drug dealer. Tell me how you found out.”
She took a breath. “We were in bed. He liked to smoke this hash he brings back from Mexico. Strong stuff. Believe me, Spenser, I’ve been clean since rehab, but Juan says he needs it to relax.” She looked at me, and I nodded. “He was feeling good, let me tell you. Then his cell phone rings and he takes the call. I can see his expression change as soon as he looks at the incoming number. He waves me away, so I go into the bathroom and close the door. But I can still hear him. He was talking to someone about a shipment coming through Juárez to El Paso. The distribution would take place immediately, and the money would be in his hands by the following week.”
“It could be flowers,” I said.
Carmen laughed, but it wasn’t happy. “Yes, it could be flowers. Or shoes. Or tires.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“One moment I was listening and the next he was inside the bathroom holding me by the arms and asking me why I was eavesdropping on his call. It happened in an instant. I told him the door was closed and that I couldn’t hear a thing, but I don’t think he believed me. He was very rough with me when we went back to bed. Once he fell asleep, I left.” She took a sip from her water bottle. “Thank God he hasn’t come near me since. Not in that way. I moved in with Martita two days ago. He is pleasant enough when others are around, but he’s got his eye on me. He has me watched now whenever I leave the farm.”
“How many guys does he have here? I’m assuming they’re all armed.”
“At least five. Will, the one who stopped you, and four others. One of them is Martita’s brother. Marco. He’s weak. I use him for bits of information.”
“Do you have any reason to believe Juan is about to move away from here?”
She looked puzzled. “Move where? He travels a lot as it is. But we haven’t said much to each other these last few days. I don’t really know what he’s thinking or doing.”
“Let’s say he were to disappear. Would he take you with him?”
“Before last week, I would have said yes. I thought he loved me and would take me wherever he goes. But I don’t think that’s true anymore. I saw his anger that night. I think he is more likely to have me killed than take me with him. He knows I know something. I’m a loose end. If he were to disappear, it would be because he is afraid. And he’s afraid of what I know and what I might say.”
<
br /> “So why hasn’t he killed you already?”
“Because it’s not that simple with Juan. He won’t look like the bad guy. So he won’t do the job himself. The killing must be arranged. He’ll stage some kind of accident, with witnesses, to get himself off the hook. This way he can deny it, even to himself.”
“In order to put Juan in jail, the authorities will need evidence that can be used in court. Would you be willing to testify against him at a trial?”
“Yes,” Carmen said. “I would gladly say what I know. Others would as well.”
“Really? These other people aren’t afraid?”
“The guards and employees here, they fear Juan, but they aren’t loyal. The guards are friendly and kind when Juan isn’t around. But they would tell what they knew if it meant they could get away from Juan—or avoid prison.”
“Do you have any idea where Juan keeps his business records?”
“I assume at his office in Boston? He does have a safe room here. It’s underneath the stable, but the entrance is through a tunnel from the house. I’ve never been in there, but I know it exists.”
“If something happened to Juan, what would you do?”
“I would survive,” she said.
“You have any money saved?”
“Enough to last me awhile. I can always teach tennis at fancy resorts or tennis camps.”
“Being independent is good. And what about Slide?” I said.
“Wherever I go, Slide goes.”
“From now on, I want you to start checking in with me every couple of hours. I want to know you’re okay,” I said. “Any obvious opportunities for Juan to stage an accident in front of witnesses?”
“Juan is hosting another big charity Christmas party next week. It’s a tennis-themed event, so I run it. I always get a few top players and other celebrities to come. It raises money for both the USTA and the USWTA, and Juan gets to show off to his rich friends. There’ll be so many high-profile people here that day, I know I’ll be safe.”
“How do you figure you’ll be safe? Just because it’s a big crowd? Sounds dangerous.”
Silent Night: A Spenser Holiday Novel Page 7