“I do,” Esther said. “Go ahead. Explore.”
Dillard leaned back a bit in his chair, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, placed the tips of his fingers together in front of him, and rested his chin on them.
“They are part of a four-man crew,” Dillard said, “here for reasons not germane to our concerns. The leader of the crew was in the car that escaped the shootout. They fear he may have been the passenger, now presumably dead. He was the one who spoke English, and it was he who negotiated the contract on Mr. Spenser. They were told that the name of the man who put the contract out was Rugar. He was described to them as dressing all in gray. Apparently, they found it amusing.”
Dillard paused.
“That’s it?” Esther said.
“They have no record, they have committed no serious crime.”
“Other than conspiracy to murder,” Esther said. “Possession of an unlicensed firearm, illegal immigration.”
Dillard opened his briefcase and took out a manila envelope.
“Gun permits and immigration papers,” Dillard said. “They were fearful and hid them for fear the police would confiscate them.”
Quirk looked at me. I grinned. Esther saw it.
“Captain?” she said.
“How long ago did you fill in the names?” Quirk said.
“Captain,” Dillard said. “Your work has soured you.”
Quirk nodded.
“It has,” Quirk said.
“Okay,” Esther said, “you represent two little lambs lost in a strange place. What can they do for me?”
“They’ve given you the man who hired them,” Dillard said. “They will testify.”
Esther nodded.
“I’m sure they’d make compelling witnesses,” she said.
“As would the, ah, Good Samaritan who assaulted them,” Dillard said. “Whose identity I believe I know.”
Esther looked at Quirk. Quirk nodded his head toward the door.
He said, “Let’s you and me confer privately, Esther.”
They stood.
As he left the office, Quirk jerked his head at Dillard and said to me, “Don’t let him steal any paper clips.”
When we were alone, I said to Dillard, “Seen Tony lately?”
“Tony?”
“Tony Marcus,” I said. “You represent him, don’t you?”
“Sometimes,” Dillard said. “You know Tony, do you?”
“Yep,” I said. “Helped send him up once.”
Dillard nodded without speaking.
“Why would Tony Marcus’s expensive mouthpiece be interested in a couple of goons from Itty-bitty-stan?” I said.
“Tony is not my only client,” Dillard said.
“You got any that Tony disapproves of?” I said.
“The implication is insulting,” Dillard said.
“Good,” I said. “You want to have a duel?”
“Why do you wish to insult me?” Dillard said. Very dignified.
“I think Tony’s gotten himself involved in all of this somehow,” I said, “and your job is to get him uninvolved. If that means getting the two goons off, fine. If it means throwing them off the back of the sled, fine. Nobody knows what they actually said to you except your translator and maybe you.”
“You are, of course, free to speculate,” Dillard said.
“Thanks,” I said.
Quirk came back into his office with Esther.
“We’ll keep them,” Esther said.
Dillard said, “That’s disappointing, Esther.”
Esther smiled.
“And I feel really bad about it,” she said. “But we thought it might be nice to have our own translator talk with them, you know? Some sort of investigation before we let go of them.”
“Arraignment?” Dillard said.
“Someone from my office will call you,” Esther said. “Let you know.”
“It should be prompt,” Dillard said.
“Of course it should,” Esther said.
“Very well,” Dillard said. “I’ll need to talk with my clients, explain their situation.”
“Feel free,” Esther said. “I’ll walk you back.”
Esther said good-bye to Quirk, nodded at me, and followed Dillard out of the office.
“Gee,” I said, “Lamar didn’t say good-bye to either one of us.”
“Not a friendly guy,” Quirk said.
I nodded.
“Rugar worked with me up in Marshport a while back,” I said. “Tony Marcus was in that mix. In fact, he lent us a guy named Leonard…”
“I know Leonard,” Quirk said.
“So Leonard worked with Rugar,” I said.
“Which means Rugar and Tony have a connection,” Quirk said. “Maybe we can roll them both up.”
“Think big,” I said.
“That’s what my wife always says.”
“Wishful thinking,” I said. “You’re Irish.”
“Jesus,” Quirk said. “The secret’s out.”
35
Pearl was visiting in my office, as she often did when Susan was busy all day and out in the evening. When Healy came in he saw her on the couch and paused to pat her. She wagged her tail but didn’t get off the couch.
“Bring Your Dog to Work Day?” Healy said.
“I get so lonely,” I said.
“We got a ransom demand,” Healy said. “For Adelaide Van Meer.”
“Who got it, her mother?”
“Yep. Five million dollars.”
“Note,” Healy said. “Block letters, looks like someone printed them with their off hand.”
“Payoff instructions?”
“To come,” Healy said.
He took a photocopy of a letter from his inside pocket and smoothed it out on my desktop in front of me.
IF YOU WANT YOUR DAUGHTER BACK COME
UP WITH $5 MILLION. YOU HAVE A WEEK TO
GET IT. WE’LL CONTACT YOU THEN.
“How’d it arrive?” I said.
“By ordinary mail, according to her,” Healy said. “She ‘thought-lessly disposed’ of the envelope before she realized it was important. No return address. Postmarked, she thinks, in Boston.”
“She going to pay?”
“Yes. Says she is going to talk with Adelaide ’s father about it.”
“You told her that paying was no guarantee she’d see her daughter.”
“I did,” Healy said. “I also told her that not paying was no guarantee of seeing her daughter.”
I stood up. Pearl raised her head. A walk was possible. A cookie? I walked across the room and patted her.
“She share any other thoughts with you?” I said.
“None worth repeating,” Healy said. “She’s ‘horribly worried’ about her daughter.”
I nodded. Pearl realized the pat was all she was getting, and put her head back down on the couch. I walked back to my desk and stood and looked out the window.
“Whaddya think?” I said to Healy.
“I think it’s bullshit,” Healy said.
“Took them an awful long time to send the ransom note,” I said.
“Might be a wacko,” Healy said. “Might be some harebrain who had nothing to do with the kidnapping.”
“Along for the ride,” I said. “Thinks he can score a little cash from somebody else’s crime.”
“It happens,” Healy said.
“I know. You think it’s one of those?”
“They usually show up sooner than this, also,” Healy said.
“Yeah,” I said. “They do.”
“You got a theory?” Healy said.
“The ransom’s an afterthought,” I said.
“What kind of a kidnapping has the ransom as an afterthought?” Healy said.
“One not about the ransom,” I said.
“Most not-ransom kidnappings are about child custody,” Healy said. “Or sexual perversion, or another kind of ransom.”
“Give us the plans to the atom bomb or you’ll never see your daughter again,” I said.
“Something like that.”
“None of those seem to be in play here,” I said.
“No. This seems like something being made up as they go along,” Healy said. “You know this guy, Rugar. That his style?”
“No.”
“Some people took a run at you, and bungled it.”
“You know about that,” I said.
“I’m a trained investigator,” Healy said. “That Rugar’s style?”