Valediction Part 15

"No," I said. "I want to see that you get home safely."

She shrugged and we went in. I stood beside her when she unlocked the door. She switched on the light. No one lurked within.

She put her hand on my chest and kissed me lightly on the mouth.

"Good night," she said. "I'm sorry, it's just . . . well, you should understand. I've never . . ."

"I know," I said. "I'll call you soon."

"Yes," she said. "I hope . . . I don't know. This was awful."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm sorry this part had to spill over. I'm sorry it had to splash on you."

"It's not your fault," Linda said. "But I'm sorry, too, that I had to see it, and to know this part of you."

"Part of the package," I said. "Part of the deal."

She nodded, her eyes still very wide and the pupils enormous. "You are a very fine man," she said. And closed the door.

CHAPTER 34.

I got five hours sleep.

The doorbell rang at 7:30 in the morning, a steady ring, like someone had placed his thumb against it and leaned. I put on a bathrobe aNd pressed the buzz-in b.u.t.ton for downstairs and opened my door and went to the kitchen. I put the water on to boil and got out the coffee and the coffee maker. I had the coffee measured into the pot when Belson came in my open apartment door. There was another cop with him that I didn't know.

I put three coffee cups on the counter. "You look really adorable in the f.u.c.king robe, Chickie," Belson said.

"Either of you guys take cream or sugar?"

Belson shook his head. The other cop said, "Just black."

Belson said, "This is Carmine Lizotti."

I nodded at the cop. He said, "How ya doing?"

Belson said, "You wanna guess why we come by this morning?" He looked like he'd been up for some time. His thin face was clean shaven with the faint blue glow of a heavy beard under his tan. He had on a seersucker suit and a straw hat with a wide blue band, and his black loafers gleamed with polish. Lizotti was heavier and a little shorter with a wedge-shaped nose and a prominent chin. He had on a coa.r.s.e weave summerweight blue blazer with his white shirt collar spread out over the lapels. He smoked a filter-tipped cigarette, holding the filter tip between his teeth when he talked.

"I'm guessing you found a 1980 Subaru hatchback with the left side torn off in the weed yard under Route 93 off City Square in Charlestown. And you checked the registration and found it was mine."

"Car's totaled," Lizotti said, his cigarette bobbing up and down in his teeth. "You oughta be driving an American car anyway."

"Serves me right," I said.

I poured the hot water over the coffee and pressed the plunger down on the pot, squeezing the grounds to the bottom.

"French roast," I said. "That mean you won't drink it?"

"Subaru wasn't the only thing totaled in there," Belson said.

I got some cream out of the refrigerator, and a box of sugar out of the cupboard. "Hope you don't require formal service," I said.

I put a couple of teaspoons on the counter near the cups.

"I got some whole wheat cinnamon and raisin bagels here," I said. "And some all natural cream cheese. No gum or other additives."

"Sure," Belson said. "We'd be fools not to."

Lizotti said, "For crissake, Frank, who is this guy, Julia f.u.c.king Child?"

"He's elegant, Liz. Everything just so. An elegant guy."

I put three bagels into the oven to heat, and took a block of cream cheese out of the refrigerator and unwrapped it and put it on a saucer. I got three b.u.t.ter knives out and put them beside the saucer.

"Got to let the coffee steep a little," I said. "And n.o.body likes a cold bagel."

"We found four f.u.c.king stiffs in there," Lizotti said.

"Three shot with a thirty-eight, one with a shotgun," I said.

"Probably," Belson said. "M.E. hasn't got a report yet."

I poured coffee into the three cups, and added some cream from the carton and sugar from the box. The box has one of those little metal fold-out pouring spouts. I stirred my coffee and sipped some.

"Water-decaffeinated," I said. "Mocha almond. You can get it at Bread and Circus in Cambridge."

Belson added sugar, no cream. Lizotti ignored his.

Lizotti said, "You admitting you did it?"

"Yep."

I put my coffee down, went to the bedroom, and got my gun. I brought it back into the kitchen, still in its clip-on holster, with the strap snapped. Lizotti's hand moved under his coat as I came back in. Belson shook his head.

"The weapon in question," I said, and gave it to Belson. He removed it from the holster, opened the cylinder, shook out the fresh load I'd put in before I went to bed, snapped shut the cylinder, and handed me back the holster and the five rounds. He dropped the gun in his coat pocket.

Lizotti said, "Been fired recently?"

I said, "Yes."

Lizotti said, "Give it a sniff, Frank."

Belson grinned at me and had a little more coffee.

"For crissake, Liz. The guy already confessed."

"The slugs you dig out of those guys will match the ones you test-fire from my gun," I said.

"How about the shotgun?" Lizotti said.

"It's in the river by the new locks," I said.

"It belonged to Fat Willie Vance," Belson said. "Spenser took it away from him and shot him with it."

I nodded.

Lizotti said to Belson, "How come you're so sure?"

"How I got to be sergeant," Belson said. "Intuition."

"That's who that was," I said. "It was kind of dark and I was rushed. I didn't even recognize him. Willie always uses a shotgun," I said to Lizotti.

"Used," Belson said.

"Yes."

"It was Willie's crew," Belson said. "I figure someone hired him to hit you, and they were overmatched. What I don't know is who."

"Quirk knows," I said.

Belson looked at Lizotti.

"Okay," he said.

"Get dressed. We'll go downtown and talk with Marty and you'll give us a statement, in which you'll claim self-defense, and we'll see what we think."

i took the bagels out of the oven one at a time, juggling them to keep from burning my hands, and tossed them on the counter.

"Eat up," I said. "While I shower. Save me a bagel."

"You put four of them down by yourself?" Lizotti said.

"Yeah," I said. "Not bad for a guy who'd wear a maroon velour robe, huh?"

I showered and dressed and ate my bagel on the way downtown. Lizotti didn't join us in Quirk's office. Just Quirk, Belson, and little old moi. Three hours later I took a cab home, free for the moment, maybe forever, carless, but licensed still to pursue my trade. The cops had kept my gun, but I had another one. All in all it had worked out much better for me than it had for Fat Willie. As far as I knew it was his only shotgun.

CHAPTER 35.

Sherry Spellman and I took the elevator down from Vince Haller's office and went out onto Staniford Street in the heat of August.

"Haller will help you in any way you need," I said.

She nodded.

"You understand the trust?"

She nodded.

"And that he's trust officer?"

"Yes."

"He'll help you with organization, with your tax situation. He'll help arrange credit until the trust starts to generate income."

"I understand," she said.

"And you can call me anytime." We turned left at Cambridge Street.

"I know," she said. She put her hand on my arm and stopped me. "I want to say thank you. But I want to say more than that and I don't know how."

I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "My pleasure," I said. "The next step is Tommy."

She stepped away and widened her eyes at me.

"I got into this thing because Tommy Banks asked me to find you. He's the only client I've had since we began. I think you two should talk."

"I don't know what to say to him."

"Maybe we can plan that out a little. But you owe him the chance to talk."

"Yes," she said.

"Do you love him?" I said.

"Yes."

"Do you want to live with him again?"

"I don't know. I won't go back to dancing and all of that."

"What's 'all of that'?" I said.

"All of that discipline, that control, it . . . it submerges me. I am not just a dancer and Tommy a ch.o.r.eographer. I'm a puppet."