“Yep.”
“What did you do?” Rita said.
“Mostly I wandered around in the hurricane like Lear on the heath,” I said.
“Change places and handy dandy,” Rita said.
“Which is the justice,” I said, “which is the thief?”
“Think we got the quotes right?”
“Close enough,” I said.
“Was Susan there?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’ll bet your heath wandering was in her interest,” Rita said.
“You think?” I said.
“You are as predictable as sunrise.”
“Or sunset,” I said.
“I’m a glass-half-full girl,” Rita said. “Even though you have rejected me for twenty years.”
“It hasn’t been easy,” I said.
“That’s comforting,” Rita said.
She opened her menu.
“They have the best meatloaf in the known universe,” I said.
“For lunch?” Rita said.
“Sometimes.”
“A nice salad will do for me,” she said. “Criminal defense lawyers shouldn’t have a fat ass.”
“You seem in little danger,” I said.
“How would you know?” she said.
“I pay close attention to such matters,” I said.
“Not close enough,” she said.
“Well, I have a lot of eyewitness testimony to support my position,” I said.
Rita giggled, which was always fun to see.
“Oh, fuck you,” she said.
“Or not,” I said.
She giggled again.
“How long have we been dancing this dance?” Rita said.
“More than twenty years,” I said.
“And I’ve never gotten you into bed,” she said.
“Not many men can claim that,” I said.
She put her hand out and I put mine on top of it.
“I hope the music never stops,” she said.
I patted her hand for a moment.
“They don’t seem to have meatloaf on the lunch menu today,” I said.
“Life is not without disappointment,” Rita said.
“So far,” I said.
We were quiet.
Then Rita said, “You want me to call Jimmy? Tell him you’ll be stopping by?”
“If you would,” I said.
17
Gabriel and Whitcomb had offices in a recycled warehouse near the waterfront. Old brick, exposed beams, a lot of hanging greenery, some stained glass. It could have been a cocktail lounge in San Diego. From his corner office, Jimmy could look out at the bridge to Fairhaven, where the waters of the Acushnet River began to mingle with the harbor. On a small sideboard near the windows were pictures of a handsome blonde woman in golf clothes, and two soon-to-be-handsome blonde girls in riding clothes.
Jimmy himself was slim and sharp-faced with longish black hair combed straight back. He wore a blue blazer and a white shirt, no tie, gray slacks, and black loafers, no socks. There was a Rolex on his left wrist. Casual elegance. His dark eyes studied me with piercing sincerity.
“Any friend of Rita’s,” he said.
“Rita has a lot of friends,” I said.
“You got that right,” Jimmy said.
His smile was wide and warm, and just as sincere as his eyes.
“You represent Heidi Bradshaw,” I said.
“The firm does,” Jimmy said.
“In all legal matters?”
“Oh, God, no,” Jimmy said. “At her level, she needs all sorts of expertise. We are sort of legal triage for her; we field her problems, solve them when it’s our area, find the right people to solve them if it’s another area.”
“Which is how you got to me,” I said.
“We respect Rita’s recommendation, and may I say, hers for you was absolutely glowing.”
“And richly deserved,” I said. “Why did Heidi want someone in the first place?”
Jimmy did several noncommittal things with his head, shoulders, and hands.
“Heidi is Heidi,” he said.
“I noticed that,” I said. “What did she say she wanted someone for?”
“Goddamn,” Jimmy said. “I’m sorry. But I can’t… you know, privilege and all that.”
“How did she phrase her request to you?” I said.
“Geez,” Jimmy said, “you were there, weren’t you, for all the trouble.”
“I was,” I said.
“God, I’m sorry. What a tragedy.”
“How did she ask for the someone that turned out to be me?” I said.
“God, Spenser, I’m sorry. I really am,” Jimmy said. “Rita told me about you when she called to say you’d be coming by.”
“That I was articulate and charming?”
“She said that you wouldn’t let it alone. That since you were there you’d take it personal and all that. I know you are just trying to find Adelaide.”
“I am,” I said.
“But I can’t talk about clients, you know? I start doing that, how many do I have left after a while?”
I nodded.
“So you probably won’t fill me in on her marriages, her relationships with her ex-husbands, her relationship with her daughter, her son-in-law, his family, her financial circumstances, her sex life, her social life. Friends? Booze? Drugs? Gamble? Debt?”
“Oh my God, no,” Jimmy said. “Jesus… no comment. No fucking comment.”
I nodded.
“Rita said you asked for someone smart, tough, and presentable,” I said.
Jimmy recovered from his horror sufficiently to smile self-effacingly.
“The firm’s language,” he said.
“But I assume she didn’t ask for stupid, fearful, and repellent,” I said.
“We tried to rephrase her accurately,” Jimmy said. “Obviously, you’re the kind of guy she had in mind.”
“And wasn’t I useful,” I said.
“I’m sure you did what you could,” Jimmy said. “One man…”
I nodded.
“And you had your girlfriend to look out for,” Jimmy said.
I nodded. Apparently, Jimmy knew more than he pretended to about the stormy night on Tashtego.
“You arrange the Tashtego security patrol?” I said.
“We located the proper company for her, and made the deal.”
“What’s the company?”
Jimmy thought about it for a moment, and decided it was not in violation of his sacred honor to tell me.
“Absolute Security,” he said. “In Providence.”
“Who do I talk to?”
“Artie Fonseca,” Jimmy said. “He’s the CEO.”
“Who might want something like this to happen?” I said.
“The killing, the kidnapping? I assume some psychopath thought he could make some money.”
I shook my head.
“I know the guy who ran the operation,” I said. “He probably wouldn’t do a kidnapping for money. There are a lot of easier ways. And if he did do a kidnapping for money, he wouldn’t do it this way. Helicopters, for crissake?”
“You think somebody hired him?”
“I do.”
“Who on earth…?”
“My question exactly,” I said.
18
“I lost four guys,” Fonseca said.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
“I don’t like it,” Fonseca said. “Losing people.”
“It’s tough,” I said.
“I don’t like it,” he said.
He was a spare, middle-sized man with a shaved head and a big mustache. He looked in shape.
“Tell me about the operation,” I said.
“The patrol?”
“The patrol,” I said. “The company. Anything that might be useful.”
“We do business around the country. Rich, low-profile people mostly, estate security, bodyguards… you know.”
“Heidi Bradshaw is hardly low-profile.”
“Her money’s as good as if she were,” Fonseca said.
“Do any investigation?”
“Nope, strictly protection,” Fonseca said.
“Ever run into anything like this before?” I said.
“No.”
“How’d it work?” I said.
“Tashtego? Three four-man patrols plus a supervisor. When the guys got killed it was the second shift. Two Jeeps. Two guys in a Jeep. Radio. Sidearms. One shotgun per Jeep. Locked in a mount.”
“Supervisor?” I said.
“No. He only works during the day. Senior guy was in charge.”
“He was?”