Robert B. Parker's Slow Burn (Spenser, #44)(54)

“Jesus,” she said. “Taken off those men last night?”

I nodded. I tried to appear modest. I had raked in a lot of loot and firepower.

“Did you and Z hurt his people?”

I made a waffling gesture with my right hand. I stood and poured myself a cup of coffee. Freshly ground Sumatran from Whole Foods. I got up for the toast and returned to the table. Pearl followed me back and forth, tail wagging. “Z did provide wonderful support,” I said. “I think he’s ready.”

“We have made great efforts to have a life together while living separately,” she said. “But with the fire, we’re more connected than we ever have been. I need you whole. Not stealing some thugs’ money and guns.”

“I collect blondes and bottles, too,” I said. The Bogart imitation was flawless.

“Okay,” Susan said. “But you’ll shower and change clothes before you make me a decadent breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And most important?”

“Don’t get killed,” I said.





47


You are f*cking crazy,” Vinnie Morris said.

We were walking together through the Common. A guy dressed in a teddy bear costume was playing an electric guitar by the Frog Pond. A group of Japanese tourists were enthralled.

“First you accuse him of torching a church,” Vinnie said. “And now you bust into his place of business. He’s not like his old man. He’s not going to shake hands when it’s all over. He’ll send one of his people to make you disappear.”

“Don’t forget Hawk shot a couple of his men last year.”

“’Cause he’d buddied up with that judge’s friend,” Vinnie said. “That shit nearly sent him to jail.”

I held up an index finger. “But it didn’t,” I said. “He walked away.”

“No thanks to you,” Vinnie said. “Christ. What do you want me to do?”

“Send a message for me,” I said.

“Do I look like f*cking Western Union?” Vinnie said.

“I don’t want this message filtered through his people,” I said. “I want this direct to Jackie. I want to meet him alone. I give him the money and he gives me the surveillance footage. He needs to understand any illegal activity will never be turned over to the cops.”

“So you’re asking him to trust you,” Vinnie said. “After you screwed him twice.”

“Exactly.”

“You got some nerve,” Vinnie said. “I’m just trying to do my own thing, keep my head down, and stay out of the action. I don’t want trouble with Jackie DeMarco. He keeps to his side of the river and it’s copacetic.”

“You know he may be a dope-dealing thug and killer,” I said. “But I bet deep down he’s a people person. Tell him I need the footage from two nights ago. There was a warehouse that caught on fire across the street from his flower business. Some firefighters barely made it out and are still in bad shape. Tell him he can cut out whatever he wants, but I want the footage from the street.”

“Oh,” he said. “Jackie’s gonna hop right up when he hears Spenser needs his help working a case. Maybe you can get him some kind of junior detective badge.”

“Why not,” I said. “It’ll look great on his track suit.”

“Hey,” Vinnie said. “Don’t knock the track suit.”

“What’s that you got on now?”

“Ralph Lauren,” he said. “Pants and shirt. Purple Label. Cole Haan loafers. Alligator belt.”

“You could be a mannequin on Newbury Street.”

“I ain’t making no promises, Spenser.”

“Of course.”

“And if you turn up dead, I’m not speaking at your wake.”

“I prefer you sing,” I said. “Perhaps ‘Danny Boy’?”

“The f*cking lead pipes are calling for your head,” he said.

“Public space,” I said. “Just him.”

“And no Hawk,” he said. “Or f*cking Zebulon Sixkill. Or any of the damn Village People you hang out with.”

“You, sir, are an honorary member.”

“Christ,” Vinnie said. “I hope not.”

We stopped at Charles Street. The fat guy from the bowling alley stood by a black BMW sedan. He had on a loose Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and macaws. But I could still spot the big gun he wore on his right hip.

“Don’t call me,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“No problem.”

“And I’ll let you know where.”

“Perhaps Jackie and I could go for an ice-cream cone,” I said. “Or ride a bicycle built for two.”

“Nothing about this situation is funny, Spenser,” Vinnie said. “Those days are long over. Get with the f*cking times or they’re gonna get with you.”





48


Bright and early the next morning, I waited in the stands of Harvard Stadium. I had on a pair of jeans, a gray T-shirt, and Nikes. I wore a brand-new zip-up Adidas hoodie over my .357. Not that I didn’t trust Jackie DeMarco. It just helped me feel slightly more secure.