Sixkill s-40

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Sixkill s-40 Page 17

by Robert B. Parker


  She nodded and scanned the notes she had taken. Then she closed the notebook and stood up.

  "I'm inclined to believe him, too," she said. "Despite all the publicity, this isn't a winner for us. We don't prosecute and we're giving him a bye because he's a big star. We prosecute and don't convict, it's because we're incompetent, and probably giving him a bye as well. We prosecute and convict and he's sentenced appropriately, we're all soft on him because he's a star."

  "Only way to win is to get him convicted of something he didn't do, or get him a sentence that won't stand on appeal," Quirk said.

  Angela smiled.

  "I'll consult with my colleagues," she said.

  After she left, Quirk leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, and looked at me for a while.

  "Heard there was three people killed at a construction site in Somerville last night," he said. "Two of them killed with a knife. One with a .40 caliber handgun."

  "World's going to hell in a handbasket," I said.

  Quirk nodded.

  "Guy shot to death was Stephano DeLauria, who is the husband of Jumbo Nelson's agent."

  "Tough on Alice," I said.

  Quirk nodded.

  "He was a button man," Quirk said. "For an L.A. Mob."

  "Really?" I said.

  "Had a big rep, I'm told," Quirk said.

  "Well," I said. "I feel bad for Alice."

  Quirk looked at me some more.

  "I'll bet you do," he said.

  I stood.

  "We done?" I said.

  Quirk nodded.

  "Nice job," he said.

  I said, "Thanks," and left.

  I had one more thing I had to do.

  63

  TOM LOPATA'S OFFICE was in a converted storefront in Malden Square. There were several desks. Tom sat at the one closest to the door. The others were unoccupied.

  He stood when I came in, and I could see him flipping through his mental Rolodex until he matched my face with a name. Then he stuck out his hand.

  "Hey," he said. "Mr. Spenser, excellent to see you."

  I didn't shake hands with him.

  "I've stopped by to tell you what I know," I said. "I'm not telling anyone else. But I want to be sure that you know that I know."

  "Sure," he said, and sat down. "Sure. I'll help you any way I can."

  He gestured toward a chair. I stayed on my feet.

  "You drove your daughter in to hook up with Jumbo Nelson," I said. "We know that. What only you and I know is that you did it because you hoped it would help you sell a big policy to him and the movie company."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying you pimped your daughter to a notorious pig. For money, and it got her killed."

  "Why. . . What good does this kind of talk do now?" Lopata said.

  "It doesn't do the kid any good. And I won't tell your wife or your son. I won't tell the cops. I won't tell anybody. But I want you to wake up every morning of every day and know what you did," I said. "Every morning."

  "This is crazy," he said. "There's no way you could know this. I didn't do anything wrong."

  I looked at him.

  "I didn't," he said.

  I didn't answer.

  "I spent my life, for crissake, feeding them and buying them stuff I couldn't afford, and sending them to schools I couldn't afford. My fucking son is at Harvard. All I wanted was for her to put in a good word for me, just once. Is that fucking evil?"

  "Yeah," I said. "In fact, it is."

  "Come on," he said. "That's bullshit. I didn't do nothing so bad."

  "Think about it," I said. "Every day."

  I left.

  WHEN I GOT BACK to Boston I changed into sweats, put some clean clothes and a shaving kit in a gym bag, and went down to the Harbor Health Club. I lifted weights. I hit the speed bag. I hit the heavy bag until the sweat was all over me and soaking through my shirt. Then I went to the steam room and sat for a long time. When I came out, I showered and shaved and put on my clean clothes.

  It was still raining when I came out of the club. But it seemed to me that it was getting a little lighter in the west. Over Cambridge. Where Susan lived.

  After the rain lifted, the world would probably seem as freshly washed as I was. The cleanliness was almost certainly illusory, or at best short-lasting. But life is mostly metaphor, anyway.

  I got in my car and drove west.

  THE SPENSER NOVELS

  Painted Ladies

  The Professional

  Rough Weather

  Now & Then

  Hundred-Dollar Baby

  School Days

  Cold Service

  Bad Business

  Back Story

  Widow's Walk

  Potshot

  Hugger Mugger

  Hush Money

  Sudden Mischief

  Small Vices

  Chance

  Thin Air

  Walking Shadow

  Paper Doll

  Double Deuce

  Pastime

  Stardust

  Playmates

  Crimson Joy

  Pale Kings and Princes

  Taming a Sea-Horse

  A Catskill Eagle

  Valediction

  The Widening Gyre

  Ceremony

  A Savage Place

  Early Autumn

  Looking for Rachel Wallace

  The Judas Goat

  Promised Land

  Mortal Stakes

  God Save the Child

  The Godwulf Manuscript

  THE JESSE STONE NOVELS

  Split Image

  Night and Day

  Stranger in Paradise

  High Profile

  Sea Change

  Stone Cold

  Death in Paradise

  Trouble in Paradise

  Night Passage

  THE SUNNY RANDALL NOVELS

  Spare Change

  Blue Screen

  Melancholy Baby

  Shrink Rap

  Perish Twice

  Family Honor

  THE VIRGIL COLE/EVERETT HITCH NOVELS

  Blue-Eyed Devil

  Brimstone

  Resolution

  Appaloosa

  ALSO BY ROBERT B. PARKER

  Double Play

  Gunman's Rhapsody

  All Our Yesterdays

  A Year at the Races (with Joan H. Parker)

  Perchance to Dream

  Poodle Springs (with Raymond Chandler)

  Love and Glory

  Wilderness

  Three Weeks in Spring (with Joan H. Parker)

  Training with Weights (with John R. Marsh)

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 99993c64-57a1-416a-a0e8-c8d849f8972e

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 6.8.2011

  Created using: calibre 0.8.10 software

  Document authors :

  Robert B Parker

  About

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