Silent Night: A Spenser Holiday Novel by Robert B. Parker Page B

Juan,” I said. “I’m also sure you are aware that someone has been threatening your brother and his boys’ shelter. In fact, if you recall our delightful encounter at the charity auction, you might remember my informing you that Jackie had requested my help in making the threats stop.”
    “I am quite capable of protecting my brother,” Alvarez said. “And I fail to see the connection between Jackie’s problems and your invasion of my properties.”
    “Fair enough,” I said. “My investigative methods may seem as opaque to you as your business dealings do to me. We both have an interest in knowing who might be threatening Jackie and Street Business. Any ideas?”
    Alvarez’s demeanor softened, and he sighed. “Jackie,” he said. “He’s tried so hard, and always manages to fail. His intentions are good, but that’s not enough. Street Business is just a pipe dream, I’m afraid.”
    “It may be ambitious,” I said. “But who would want to see it fail?”
    Alvarez shrugged. “Who knows? Anybody. Everybody. Maybe a gang that sees Street Business as an invasion of its turf. Drug dealers or other criminals who see it as a threat. So-called concerned citizens. Not everyone supports housing homeless kids in the community, as you might imagine. Even real estate developers, perhaps. We have had many offers to purchase our buildings on Curtis Street, mine as well as Jackie’s.”
    “I’m curious, Juan,” I said. “Why do you own so many properties on Curtis Street?”
    He smiled without warmth. “I have many employees. There is not enough room for them all at my farm in Weston. And, frankly, I keep a couple of men in town to keep an eye on Jackie and Street Business, to make sure everything goes well.”
    “So why do you continue to support Street Business if you think it’s a pipe dream?”
    “Jackie is my brother, Spenser,” he said. “He is family. I promised my mother that I would support and protect the family, Jackie most of all. As long as he believes in Street Business, I must not fail him. To do so would be to dishonor my mother and the memory of my father. That I won’t do.”
    Alvarez gathered his coat and pulled a pair of leather gloves from his pocket.
    “Thank you for your time, Spenser. I trust we have simply had a misunderstanding. I will take care of my brother. It is difficult with my travel schedule and business obligations, but he is my responsibility.”
    “I understand you travel quite a bit,” I said. “I hope you get a break for the holidays. Any chance you’re heading south of the border for New Year’s?”
    He put his gloved hand out to shake mine. “Merry Christmas, Spenser. May the New Year bring you peace and prosperity.” His grip was strong and his smile cold.

T HE VISIT FROM Juan Alvarez had annoyed me enough that I abandoned my further thoughts of the turducken and decided to catch up with the sports section of
The Boston Globe
instead. Outside it looked cold, but the sun was shining. A few shoppers, bundled against the weather, clutched shopping bags as they hurried down the street. Patches of snow lay in irregular patterns across the Boston Garden.
    My office door opened, and Carmen came in. She held out her hand. “Hello again, Spenser.”
    “Hello, Carmen.”
    Her hand was cold from the outdoors, and it looked like she bit her fingernails. She had a strong grip. She wore no makeup on her smooth, dark skin except for a touch of lipstick. She smiled at me. I smiled back. I wondered how it must feel to be a woman whose looks were so startling. The combination of her blue eyes and strong features was oddly electric. I sat down again behind my desk. And waited for her to begin.
    She was wearing clean, well-worn blue jeans, work boots, and a blue-and-green checked wool shirt over a white tank top. She put her sheepskin parka on the back of my visitor’s chair. Her hair was straight and fell to her shoulders, and was so dark it was almost black. She gave me an