his best interest. He can take care of business. But if it's good for business, he'll do anything. Kill, torture, maim, chop up small children, whatever. A lot of people have died lousy deaths because of him."
Healy looked at Hawk.
"You think you were almost one of them?" he said.
Hawk shrugged.
"I'll know, sooner or later," he said.
"As a police officer, of course it is my obligation," Healy said, "to warn you against taking the law into your own hands."
I said, "Of course, Captain."
"Still," Healy said, " 'twould be a darlin' thing if the rat bastard were dead."
"Darlin'," I said.
"You Mickeys do talk strange," Hawk said. "You know any connection between Boots and Tony Marcus?"
"No," Healy said. "I can check with the Organized Crime Unit. Give you a call."
"Thanks," Hawk said. "Call Spenser."
Healy grinned.
"Wouldn't want me knowing how to find you, would we," he said.
"We would not," Hawk said.
20
WE WERE IN Hawk's snow car, a Lincoln Navigator. The wipers worked steadily. The snow was unflinching.
"A Navy pilot ever land on this thing?" I said. "By mistake?"
"I try not to drive it near the coast," Hawk said. "You know Tony had a daughter?"
"No," I said.
"Who would know 'bout that?" Hawk said.
"Nobody I can think of," I said.
"Guess we gonna have to ask Tony."
"Maybe Boots was blowing smoke," I said, "so you wouldn't shoot him."
"No," Hawk said. "I was looking in his eyes. He was telling me as little as he could. But he weren't lying."
"He won't like that we dissed him in his own office," I said.
"Diss him where we find him," Hawk said. "Lotta people ain't going to like us, 'fore we're through."
"Probably including Tony," I said.
"Probably."
"We could start handing out numbers," I said. "Like a deli."
There was a snow emergency parking ban, so Hawk dropped the four-wheel drive into low range, pulled the Navigator into the alley behind my office, jammed it up onto the sidewalk by the back entrance to my building, and parked. We went up the back stairs to my office.
We hung up our coats. I made some coffee. While I was doing that, Hawk stood in the window bay and watched it snow. I got some cream out of the office refrigerator, and sugar from the office-supply cabinet. I put out two thick white china mugs, and the cream and sugar, on my desk. I went to the closet, unlocked it, and got a bottle of "Black Bush" Irish whisky from the shelf and set it down beside the mugs.
"Snow emergency," I said.
"You gonna need another mug," Hawk said.
"Who?"
"Captain Martin Quirk," Hawk said. "His driver just let him out on the corner and is now parked there, screwing up the traffic."
"He feeling bad about that?" I said.
"I only guessing," Hawk said. "But I say no."
I went and got some spoons and a third mug. Susan had bought me the mugs from a restaurant supply catalogue. She said they were the perfect masculine complement to my Mr. Coffee machine. She might have been needling me. I had just put the spoons down and the extra mug beside the other two when Quirk came in. He was wearing a dark gray tweed overcoat with raglan sleeves, his collar turned up. He wore no hat, and his hair was flecked with still-unmelted snow.
Quirk looked at the mugs and the bottle.
"That looks encouraging," he said.
"You off duty?" I said.
"On my way home," Quirk said.
I poured coffee into the mugs, added sugar and cream to mine and a significant slosh of whisky, and set the bottle out for the others.
"Hawk tells me your driver is impeding traffic," I said.
"Christ, there's got to be some fun being a cop," Quirk said.
All three of us sipped our enhanced coffee for a moment. The storm wasn't one of those raging ones. It was a placid, persistent storm. Not too much wind. Not too brutally cold. Merely the implacable quiet snowfall outside the window.
Quirk set his coffee mug down on the edge of my desk and hung his coat on the rack, and sat down near his coffee. Hawk continued to watch the snow fall.
"You're looking
Healy looked at Hawk.
"You think you were almost one of them?" he said.
Hawk shrugged.
"I'll know, sooner or later," he said.
"As a police officer, of course it is my obligation," Healy said, "to warn you against taking the law into your own hands."
I said, "Of course, Captain."
"Still," Healy said, " 'twould be a darlin' thing if the rat bastard were dead."
"Darlin'," I said.
"You Mickeys do talk strange," Hawk said. "You know any connection between Boots and Tony Marcus?"
"No," Healy said. "I can check with the Organized Crime Unit. Give you a call."
"Thanks," Hawk said. "Call Spenser."
Healy grinned.
"Wouldn't want me knowing how to find you, would we," he said.
"We would not," Hawk said.
20
WE WERE IN Hawk's snow car, a Lincoln Navigator. The wipers worked steadily. The snow was unflinching.
"A Navy pilot ever land on this thing?" I said. "By mistake?"
"I try not to drive it near the coast," Hawk said. "You know Tony had a daughter?"
"No," I said.
"Who would know 'bout that?" Hawk said.
"Nobody I can think of," I said.
"Guess we gonna have to ask Tony."
"Maybe Boots was blowing smoke," I said, "so you wouldn't shoot him."
"No," Hawk said. "I was looking in his eyes. He was telling me as little as he could. But he weren't lying."
"He won't like that we dissed him in his own office," I said.
"Diss him where we find him," Hawk said. "Lotta people ain't going to like us, 'fore we're through."
"Probably including Tony," I said.
"Probably."
"We could start handing out numbers," I said. "Like a deli."
There was a snow emergency parking ban, so Hawk dropped the four-wheel drive into low range, pulled the Navigator into the alley behind my office, jammed it up onto the sidewalk by the back entrance to my building, and parked. We went up the back stairs to my office.
We hung up our coats. I made some coffee. While I was doing that, Hawk stood in the window bay and watched it snow. I got some cream out of the office refrigerator, and sugar from the office-supply cabinet. I put out two thick white china mugs, and the cream and sugar, on my desk. I went to the closet, unlocked it, and got a bottle of "Black Bush" Irish whisky from the shelf and set it down beside the mugs.
"Snow emergency," I said.
"You gonna need another mug," Hawk said.
"Who?"
"Captain Martin Quirk," Hawk said. "His driver just let him out on the corner and is now parked there, screwing up the traffic."
"He feeling bad about that?" I said.
"I only guessing," Hawk said. "But I say no."
I went and got some spoons and a third mug. Susan had bought me the mugs from a restaurant supply catalogue. She said they were the perfect masculine complement to my Mr. Coffee machine. She might have been needling me. I had just put the spoons down and the extra mug beside the other two when Quirk came in. He was wearing a dark gray tweed overcoat with raglan sleeves, his collar turned up. He wore no hat, and his hair was flecked with still-unmelted snow.
Quirk looked at the mugs and the bottle.
"That looks encouraging," he said.
"You off duty?" I said.
"On my way home," Quirk said.
I poured coffee into the mugs, added sugar and cream to mine and a significant slosh of whisky, and set the bottle out for the others.
"Hawk tells me your driver is impeding traffic," I said.
"Christ, there's got to be some fun being a cop," Quirk said.
All three of us sipped our enhanced coffee for a moment. The storm wasn't one of those raging ones. It was a placid, persistent storm. Not too much wind. Not too brutally cold. Merely the implacable quiet snowfall outside the window.
Quirk set his coffee mug down on the edge of my desk and hung his coat on the rack, and sat down near his coffee. Hawk continued to watch the snow fall.
"You're looking
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