Robert B. Parker's Slow Burn (Spenser, #44)(51)



“What did he know?” Ray said.

“I don’t think he knew nothing,” Kevin said. “I think he was just fishing around. Someone told him we’d been sparking and he thought he’d run some questions by me. I don’t know. I didn’t think much of it until he got serious about Johnny. He seemed like he wanted to know more about you.”

Kevin turned his head to Johnny.

Johnny pounded his fist on the table. “That f*cker Featherstone,” he said. “That son of a bitch. He liked me for the church. He was always jealous and suspicious. I don’t know what this snoop is doing or who’s paying him. But this ain’t good. Somebody from the department, Cahill or one of his shit heels, will come to you guys soon. They’re gonna put on some pressure. But you got to know they don’t know shit. Don’t get nervous and stupid.”

Big Ray nodded. He scratched his nose and looked down at the empty box. “Can I have that last one?”

Johnny gritted his teeth, snatched the box, and crumpled it into a ball. He walked over to the trash bin and tossed it inside. Waddling back to his seat, he shook his head. “We sticking on this?” he said. “We together on all of it?”

Kevin exchanged looks with Big Ray. Neither of them liked what they were seeing in Johnny.

“We lay low for a while,” Johnny said. “Somebody is out there watching us. They are waiting for us to f*ck up. But we’re not going to. We’re gonna sit right here and finish our coffee and then go home just like regular Joes. They can chase around all they want, but then they’ll get bored and that’s when Mr. Firebug returns.”

Ray shook his head and let out a breath. “Why the hell’d you do that with my donut?” he said. “Jesus, Johnny.”

Johnny tossed a five spot at Ray and told him to get another half-dozen.





44


So close,” Z said. “Yet so far.”

“I’m fairly certain they’re mocking us,” I said.

Kevin Teehan, Johnny Donovan, and a third man—who may or may not have been the man from the still—sat in a back booth at the Scandinavian Pastry shop off West Broadway. They were drinking coffee and eating donuts. With the windows open, you could smell the donuts.

“Maybe if I run in for a couple,” Z said. “No one would notice.”

“A six-foot-two, two-hundred-thirty-pound American Indian in Southie?” I said. “Can you tell what they’re eating?”

“I hate to say,” Z said. He looked through the long lens of my Canon Rebel, clicking away. “It might only lead to tears.”

“Need I remind you, I just got torched out of my apartment and lost all my worldly possessions?”

“Chocolate glazed. Maybe a cinnamon or two.”

“You’re right,” I said. “Shouldn’t have told me.”

Z snapped off a few more shots and placed the camera in the backseat of the Explorer. I took a sip of a bottled water we’d brought from the gym. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. When there was action, he was all intensity and energy. But when we waited, he could rest anywhere. I was envious.

“Does it bother you that you will have to start over in L.A.?” I said. “With a new mentor and a more rigorous process to get your license?”

“License,” he said. “I don’t need a stinking license.”

“My introductions on the West Coast are only if you need help,” I said. “Not a place of employment. Whatever you do, don’t work for Del Rio.”

“You said he’s an honorable man,” he said. “And can be trusted.”

“He’s also a ruthless criminal.”

“I want to do what you do.”

I nodded. “And to do that, you have to get licensed.”

“And to do what Hawk does?”

“Attitude,” I said.

Inside the pastry shop, the merry trio threw their heads back in laughter. Johnny Donovan was laughing so hard he slapped the table a few times. Teehan said something else and pointed to Johnny and then ate half a donut. I waited for Johnny to pull a gun and fire a few rounds into the air like he had in the video.

“I do want to thank you,” Z said.

I inhaled a long breath through my nose and held up a hand to dismiss any adulation. Adulation couldn’t be appreciated in the absence of donuts. Or good beer.

“I was a mess when I came here.”

“You would have found a way,” I said. “Tough-minded people always do.”

“If you or Hawk ever need me.”

I nodded. There was no more to say.

We watched the trio stand behind the plate-glass window. It wasn’t unlike watching animals in a zoo display. Donovan walked back toward the bathrooms. Teehan and the third man walked out toward a parking lot shared with an all-night packie. Z reached back for the camera, took a few pics, and handed me the camera. The third man was tall and lean with close-cropped silver hair. He had on khaki cargo shorts and a basic black T-shirt.

He drove off in a black sedan. It looked almost like police issue but I didn’t want to entertain any more conspiracy theories on an empty stomach.

“Did you get a shot of the plate?” Z said.

“You may be the one from Montana,” I said. “But this ain’t my first rodeo.”

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