Robert B. Parker's Slow Burn (Spenser, #44)(56)

Jackie shook his head in disappointment. “Your buddies can’t be everywhere, Spenser,” he said. “Just for the record? You’ve really f*cked up this time.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said. “At least I always try and do my best.”





49


After my meet and greet with DeMarco, I returned to my office.

I had barely had time to go through my bills when Belson and Captain Glass walked through the door. Belson sat down in a client’s chair while Glass glanced around the room. It was her first visit and I noted the admiration in her eyes. I think she appreciated the feng shui arrangement of my desk, couch, client chairs, and filing cabinets. Or perhaps it was the Vermeer prints hanging on the walls.

“I do all the decorating myself,” I said. “The file cabinets really set off the rug.”

Glass just stared at me. She leaned against the wall and looked to Belson.

“Tag on the sedan that belongs to your third man goes back to the police department in Blackburn,” Belson said.

“Terrific,” I said. “They love me up there.”

“I bet,” Belson said. “I made some calls, and it turns out the last one to check out the vehicle was a cop named Ray Zucco. Every heard of Big Ray Zucco?”

“Nope,” I said. “Should I have?”

“Quite the whackjob,” Belson said. “He’s been suspended twice for gross unprofessionalism.”

“In Blackburn, I thought that’d earn a promotion.”

“He lives out in Brighton but couldn’t get on with us,” Glass said. “You know where else he applied five years ago?”

“Boston Fire.”

“Right you are,” Belson said. “Why the hell anyone would want to be a fireman is beyond me.”

“Firefighter,” Glass said. “They have seventeen women on in Boston now, Frank.”

I raised my eyebrows. Belson shrugged and scratched his five-o’clock shadow even through it was only two.

Glass pushed off the wall and placed a hand on her hip. She wore pleated black slacks and a white silk top. She had on a small silver bracelet and a Glock 9 on her hip. Very stylish.

“So tell us what you know,” Glass said. “I understand you and Quirk would often share any information. I hope we can continue an amicable relationship.”

I put my feet up on my desk. “Amicable means nice, Frank.”

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigar. He lit up, knowing how much I disliked the smoke. I reached over and opened a window.

“I thought you said he couldn’t smoke?” I said. I looked to Glass.

“In the car,” she said. “We’re in your office.”

Belson grinned and puffed out a big batch from his fifty-cent cigar. I reached over and turned on my desk fan.

“Three men,” I said. “My associate and I watched film for so long we could’ve seen a double feature of Fanny and Alexander.”

Glass looked to Belson. “That’s a Swedish movie, Frank. It runs long.”

Belson smoked his cigar and ignored us.

“Young guy named Kevin Teehan,” I said. “He’s a part-timer with the fire department in Blackburn. And an older guy, another fire nut named Johnny Donovan. Donovan is self-employed. He was fired from his last job at a private school for theft and for slapping a kid. The kid’s parents filed charges, and a short time later, their house just happened to catch on fire.”

“And now we have Big Ray,” Glass said.

“The Three Caballeros.”

Belson puffed on his cigar and the smoke scattered in the fan on my desk. “Donald Duck,” he said. “I seen that one.”

I pointed to him with my index finger and dropped my thumb.

“We’ll bring in Zucco for an unofficial talk,” Glass said. “Maybe just ask him a few questions about Rob Featherstone? Talk to him as one cop to another about Donovan and Teehan. Make these guys a little nervous. I think you’re right, Spenser, but it’s not enough for a warrant.”

“I thought I had something.”

“What happened?” Glass said.

“Turns out the owner of that something wasn’t a fan of mine.”

“Now, that’s a shock,” Belson said.

I stretched my legs and recrossed them at the ankle. “What about Donovan?” I said.

Belson and Glass exchanged glances. Belson nodded. “We’ll bring him, too.”

“Any chance you might put that off for a few hours?” I said. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Donovan in person and get a feel for his stellar personality.”

Glass thought on it and nodded. “I’m really sorry about your building,” she said. “But if you kick the crap out of him, he might grow uncooperative. I wouldn’t push him too far.”

“Belson can vouch for my occasional subtlety and restraint.”

She looked to Belson and Belson reached up and crushed the end of the cigar in a coffee mug on my desk. He flicked off the ash with his thumb and blew out any remnants of smoke. Satisfied it was out, he tucked it back into his pocket.

“You squeeze Donovan and we’ll work on Ray Zucco,” Belson said. He turned to Glass. “Don’t worry. Spenser will do what he says.”