Jill and I sat very quietly while we waited. That someone had shot Jill’s stunt double didn’t have to be connected to the threats and scary phone calls that Jill had been getting. But you could make a pretty good case that it might be, and you couldn’t assume it was not.
After about twenty minutes Belson came into the office. He had his tan trench coat on with the collar up. The coat was unbuttoned. The tweed seally cap he was wearing was tilted down over the bridge of his nose so he had to tilt his head back a little to see. He stopped inside the front door when he entered and put his hands in the hip pockets of his pants. You could see where he had his gun holstered inside his belt.
”Good day for it,“ Belson said. He had one of his ugly little cigars in the corner of his mouth.
I introduced Jill. Jill raised her eyes slowly from her lap and fixed Belson with a tragic stare.
”Oh, Frank,“ Jill said. ”It’s my stunt double.“ If Belson minded being called Frank by a murder witness, he didn’t let it show.
”You discovered the body,“ he said. I said yes.
”Together?“
”Yes.“
Belson nodded. As he spoke his eyes moved around the room, filing everything. Three months from now he would be able to describe the place in exact detail.
”I talked with Morrissey,“ Belson said.
”So you know what I’m doing here,“ I said.
Belson nodded again. He pushed a couple of items away from the corner of Salzman’s desk and sat on it, one leg dangling, one leg still on the floor.
”Your usual bang-up job,“ Belson said.
”Maybe you should follow me around on this one,“ I said. ”Learn as you go.“
”For God’s sake,“ Jill said. ”Don’t you people realize what happened? That was meant for me. He thought Babe was me.“
”Who thought that?“ Belson said.
”There’s a man,“ Jill said. ”He’s been threatening me, saying terrible things. Now he’s done this. He thought Babe was me.“
”What’s his name?“ Belson said.
”I don’t know. That’s what he’s supposed to find out.“ Jill jerked her head at me. ”Only he hasn’t found out anything, and now he’s tried to kill me.“
”Spenser?“
”No, no. The man.“ Sandy Salzman came into the office wearing a down parka and moon boots. He went straight to Jill Joyce.
”Jill, honey, are you okay?“
”Better than Babe Loftus,“ I said.
”Oh my God, Babe,“ Salzman said. ”What happened?“
”We’re looking into that,“ Belson said.
”Are you the police?“
”I’m one of them,“ Belson said. He flipped out his shield. ”Belson,“ he said. ”Homicide.“
Salzman was holding Jill Joyce’s hand. She put her other hand over his and laid her head against his arm.
”Sandy, please, get me out of here,“ Jill said. Salzman looked at Belson.
Belson said, ”Where’s she going to go?“
”Charles Hotel,“ Salzman said.
”We can locate that,“ Belson said. ”We may want to talk with her.“
”I think we should have an attorney present,“ Salzman said.
”Of course,“ Belson said. ”Important person like her. Probably ought to have two or three present.“
”No need to be unpleasant,“ Salzman said. ”I just think with a star of Jill’s magnitude it’s prudent.“
Belson looked at me and something that might have been amusement showed for a moment in his thin face.
”This one’s going to be a good time,“ he said.
”I’m taking Miss Joyce to the hotel,“ Salzman said. ”Feel free to use my office.“
”You want Cambridge to send somebody over to keep an eye out?“ Belson said. ”Now that there’s a homicide involved.“
”Yes,“ Salzman said. ”And the hotel security staff is alerted.“
”Fine,“ Belson said. ”I’ll want Spenser for an hour or so.“
Salzman was already guiding Jill out of his office. She looked back at me.
”You’ll come, won’t you?“ she said. ”You’ll stay with me?“
”I’ll be along,“ I said.
They left the room. Belson got up and closed the door behind them and walked across to the big picture window and stood looking out at the snow. His cigar had gone out some time ago, as it almost always did. He lit it with a kitchen match that he scratched on the window sill. Outside the pleasant snow came steadily down. Belson turned from the window, folded his arms, leaned against the sill.
”What do you think?“ he said.
”I don’t know,“ I said. ”I haven’t known since I got involved. I never more than half believed there was really anyone harassing her.“
”Tell me about it,“ Belson said.
I did. When I was through Belson took the little cigar, now down to a stub, from his mouth and pursed his lips.
”This thing is going to be a hair ball.“ I nodded.
”M.E. show up yet?“ I said.
”Not while I was there. She looks to have been shot twice in the back with a big gun. Three fifty-seven maybe. Been dead awhile. No sign of a struggle. Nobody we’ve talked to so far has heard anything. Nobody so far knows why she would have been in here on a Sunday night.“
”Even if she were, why would the murderer be here?“ I said. ”If he was after Jill he wouldn’t expect to find her here.“
”Maybe he was after the victim, and maybe he came with her.“
”Or brought her,“ I said.
Belson had the cigar back in his mouth. He rolled it directly into the center of his mouth and talked around it.
”Why would he bring her?“
”Maybe it wasn’t mistaken identity,“ I said. ”Maybe it was a sign, just more harassment, like the hanged Jill Joyce doll.“
Belson nodded. ”Or maybe it’s all a fake. Maybe the whole Jill Joyce harassment is to make us think the wrong thing, and the murderer wanted to kill this stunt woman.“
”Babe Loftus,“ I said.
”Yeah.“
”Possible,“ I said. ”Kind of bizarre, though.“
”Like your scenario isn’t?“ Belson said.
I shrugged.
”Where’s Quirk?“ I said. ”This is a hot enough squeal to bring him out.“
Belson showed no expression. He had one of those permanent five o’clock shadows that no razor could successfully obliterate.
”Command staff meeting,“ Belson said. ”Strategies for improving police /community interface.“
”Honest to God?“ I said.
”Honest to God.“
Chapter 14
JILL looked at Hawk the way a mackerel eyes a minnow.
”Well,“ she said as Hawk walked across the Quiet Bar at the Charles. He had on black cowboy boots and an ankle-length black leather trench coat. The coat was open, the collar up, and a black turtleneck showed at the throat. His skin was maybe half a shade lighter than the leather coat, and his smooth head gleamed in the bar’s indirect lighting.
”You just wear those boots to be taller than me,“ I said.
”Taller than you anyway,“ Hawk said.
”Are not,“ I said.
”Better-looking, too,“ Hawk said.
”Aren’t you going to introduce us?“ Jill Joyce said. I did. Jill was sitting on a couch quietly, but as she looked at Hawk she seemed somehow to wiggle without moving.
”Well,“ she said, ”aren’t you something.“
”Un huh,“ Hawk said.
He sat on the couch beside Jill. The waitress appeared eagerly.
”Laphroig,“ Hawk said, ”straight, in a lowball glass.“
”Yes, sir,“ the waitress said and hurried off on her mission. She placed her order at the service end of the bar and glanced back at Hawk while she waited.