Robert B. Parker's Slow Burn (Spenser, #44)(60)

“Did he lawyer up?”

“Nope,” he said. “He admitted to the fire. Me, Glass, and the Arson boys were there.”

“And on Featherstone?”

“Nope,” he said. “He says he didn’t even know Featherstone.”

“You believe he’s in the dark?”

“I’m not really sure,” he said. “He blamed everything else on Johnny Donovan. And he thinks, but can’t be sure, that Donovan did the Holy Innocents fire, too. He said Donovan had some issues with a priest there.”

“What kind of issues?”

“The kind of issues that got covered up for decades by the archdiocese,” Belson said. “He called Donovan a real-life psychopath. He’s worried Donovan will try and kill him if he knows he’s been pulled in.”

“And what else did you guys talk about?”

“What the hell do you think?”

“Will he wear a wire?”

“He’s happy about it,” Belson said. “He said he’s wanted out for a while but was afraid of Donovan. He claims this was going to be the last fire he set.”

“Donovan’s pretty cocky,” I said. “He really flaunted that he couldn’t be caught. Of course he was referring to himself as Mr. Firebug.”

“Everyone can get caught.”

“Justice is always served, Frank?”

“Always,” Belson said. “And me and you will ride off on our f*cking horse into the sunset.”

“Yee haw.”

The engine was off, but the windshield wipers continued to slap away the rain. I wanted to find Kevin Teehan, scare the living daylights out of him, and turn him against Donovan, too.

“Captain Glass really doesn’t like you,” Belson said. “Marty kind of put on an act. But you knew how it really was. Glass ain’t kidding.”

“She’ll come around,” I said. “You know how charming I can be.”

“I think she’s immune to that shit, if you know what I’m saying.”

“Even with my dimples?”

“She ain’t into your dimples.”

“Ah.”

“Can I ask you something?”

I nodded.

“How the hell you’d get this damn video?” Belson said. “It’s outstanding.”

“Jackie DeMarco had an operation close to where these guys burned the church and that warehouse.”

“That’s why at first you thought it was DeMarco.”

“See?” I said. “You can see how I made an honest mistake.”

“And you harassed his ass,” Belson said. “And he politely turned it over. No harm and no foul.”

“Exactly.”

Belson shook his head. He reached for the door handle and slightly opened the door. Before he left, he lit the cigar.

“Come on, Frank.”

“I’ll buy you a f*cking bottle of Febreze,” he said. “Get over it.”

“Wonderful.”

He turned to me and smiled. A rare smile for Frank Belson. “You know Cahill told me that someone made a two-hundred-grand donation into the widows-and-orphans fund today.”

“No kidding,” I said.

“Jackie DeMarco,” he said. “A hell of a guy.”





54


The air conditioner in Susan’s house was on the fritz, and the upstairs of her old Victorian felt like the lowland reefs of Bora Bora. We lay in her bed on top of the sheets as I told her about my day and she shared what she could share of hers. “Can I ask you a professional question?” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “You are highly oversexed.”

“Not the question,” I said. “But thank you.”

The fan blew an insignificant amount of wind our way. Who knew Cambridge could be so hot? I got up, clicked up the speed on the fan, and got back into bed.

“How do you break up a bond between three people?”

“Now you’re getting kinky,” Susan said.

“Talking my work,” I said. “Not yours.”

“Mr. Firebug?”

“Alleged Mr. Firebug.”

“I thought you knew.”

“Knowing and proving are two very different things.”

Susan had on a black T-shirt and a pair of white lace panties. She turned over on her stomach and kicked her legs back and forth. Her legs were long, tan, and shapely. How I loved summer.

“What do you know about the youngest?” she said. “What’s his name? Teagarden?”

“Teehan,” I said. “Lost his mother at an early age. High school dropout. He lives and breathes the Boston Fire Department and all things firefighting. Works a low-paying job but has aspirations of becoming a true, real-life hero.”

“Does he stand a chance of becoming a Boston firefighter?”

“Nope,” I said. “Especially not now. But he did apply this winter. He’s a volunteer firefighter in Blackburn while holding a job at Home Depot. The application I saw showed he is somewhat mentally deficient. No one at Boston Fire took him very seriously.”

“What about the cop?”

“Big Ray Zucco,” I said. “I don’t know much about him. Belson pulled him in and questioned him. I think he hoped to appeal to a brother officer.”