you getting senile? And maybe they’ll lead you somewhere. Maybe they got sent around to remind Alexander that whoever was blackmailing him was serious. A message.“
I nodded.
”Yeah,“ I said. ” ’Don’t think I’m kidding, see what I can do if I wish.‘ That kind of message.“
Quirk smiled. ”See, if you apply yourself, you can do it.“
”Okay, get the names. Might be worth talking with them again. How about the file? Give me something to do while you’re talking to Springfield.“
I spent three hours looking at the file that OCU kept on Joe Broz. I was looking for intersections between Browne and Broz. I found none. The only intersection I found was between Alexander and Broz. Broz’s eldest son went to Georgetown University. When Congress was in session, Alexander lived in Georgetown. It didn’t look like a clue.
When I left, Quirk said, ”How come you haven’t told me to keep all this to myself?“
”I didn’t think I needed to,“ I said.
Quirk handed me a piece of paper with two names and addresses written on it. ”The two stiffs in Springfield,“ he said. ”I told the Springfield cops you were cooperating with me, unofficially, on an investigation.“
”Well, it’s sort of true,“ I said.
”Sure it is,“ Quirk said. ”While I was out of the office you didn’t steal my jacket. If that’s not cooperation, what is?“
”Thanks for the use of the file,“ I said.
”Let me know how things go down,“ Quirk said.
”Sure,“ I said.
When I got back out on the street it was nearly time for lunch. After I ate it, there’d be only five or six hours to kill before supper. No wonder I. hadn’t thought about the Springfield stiffs, busy as I was. Even now there were decisions to make before I could drive out to Springfield. Should I eat before I left? Or stop at a Hojo on the Mass Pike?
I stopped in Cambridge and bought a brisket, pastrami, and Swiss cheese sandwich on a roll at Elsie’s to eat on the way. The art of compromise-maybe I was political after all.
Chapter 12
The two Springfield sluggers were named Pat Ricci and Sal Pelletier. I decided to go alphabetically. Pelletier lived in a brick apartment building on Sumner Avenue near Forest Park. He didn’t answer my ring, so I went back out and sat in the car and debated whether to call on Ricci or wait for Sal. While I was debating, Sal showed up, walking briskly along the sidewalk with a paper sack of groceries in his arms. He was the one with the tattoos.
I got out of the car and walked toward him. He didn’t recognize me. I said, ”Remember me?“
His eyes widened. He said, ”Hey.“
I said, ”We need to talk. Shall we go to your place?“
”What do you want to talk about?“ Sal said. He moved away from me as he talked.
”I was hoping you’d show me your tattoos,“ I said.
”Take a walk,“ Sal said. ”I got nothing to talk about with you.“
I could see the top of a quart bottle of Miller High Life beer sticking out of the grocery bag. I took it out and dropped it on the sidewalk. It broke and the beer foamed around the broken glass.
”Hey, what the fuck are you doing?“ Sal said.
”It could be you and not the bottle,“ I said. ”I want to talk.“
Sal dropped the bag and turned and ran. I jogged along after him. He didn’t look in shape and I figured he wouldn’t last long. He didn’t. He turned into the park and 100 yards past the entrance he stopped, gasping. I jogged up and stopped beside him.
”Oughta take up running gradually,“ I said. ”Starting all out like that is dangerous.“
Sal was sweating in the cold November sunshine, and his face was red.
”Whyn’t you leave me alone,“ he said. ”I didn’t hurt them kids.“
”Sal,“ I said, ”let us cease to play grab-ass. I want to know some things from you, and you are going to tell me.“
Sal’s chest was still heaving.
”Remember how hard I can hit,“ I said.
Sal nodded.
”Who hired you to roust those two
I nodded.
”Yeah,“ I said. ” ’Don’t think I’m kidding, see what I can do if I wish.‘ That kind of message.“
Quirk smiled. ”See, if you apply yourself, you can do it.“
”Okay, get the names. Might be worth talking with them again. How about the file? Give me something to do while you’re talking to Springfield.“
I spent three hours looking at the file that OCU kept on Joe Broz. I was looking for intersections between Browne and Broz. I found none. The only intersection I found was between Alexander and Broz. Broz’s eldest son went to Georgetown University. When Congress was in session, Alexander lived in Georgetown. It didn’t look like a clue.
When I left, Quirk said, ”How come you haven’t told me to keep all this to myself?“
”I didn’t think I needed to,“ I said.
Quirk handed me a piece of paper with two names and addresses written on it. ”The two stiffs in Springfield,“ he said. ”I told the Springfield cops you were cooperating with me, unofficially, on an investigation.“
”Well, it’s sort of true,“ I said.
”Sure it is,“ Quirk said. ”While I was out of the office you didn’t steal my jacket. If that’s not cooperation, what is?“
”Thanks for the use of the file,“ I said.
”Let me know how things go down,“ Quirk said.
”Sure,“ I said.
When I got back out on the street it was nearly time for lunch. After I ate it, there’d be only five or six hours to kill before supper. No wonder I. hadn’t thought about the Springfield stiffs, busy as I was. Even now there were decisions to make before I could drive out to Springfield. Should I eat before I left? Or stop at a Hojo on the Mass Pike?
I stopped in Cambridge and bought a brisket, pastrami, and Swiss cheese sandwich on a roll at Elsie’s to eat on the way. The art of compromise-maybe I was political after all.
Chapter 12
The two Springfield sluggers were named Pat Ricci and Sal Pelletier. I decided to go alphabetically. Pelletier lived in a brick apartment building on Sumner Avenue near Forest Park. He didn’t answer my ring, so I went back out and sat in the car and debated whether to call on Ricci or wait for Sal. While I was debating, Sal showed up, walking briskly along the sidewalk with a paper sack of groceries in his arms. He was the one with the tattoos.
I got out of the car and walked toward him. He didn’t recognize me. I said, ”Remember me?“
His eyes widened. He said, ”Hey.“
I said, ”We need to talk. Shall we go to your place?“
”What do you want to talk about?“ Sal said. He moved away from me as he talked.
”I was hoping you’d show me your tattoos,“ I said.
”Take a walk,“ Sal said. ”I got nothing to talk about with you.“
I could see the top of a quart bottle of Miller High Life beer sticking out of the grocery bag. I took it out and dropped it on the sidewalk. It broke and the beer foamed around the broken glass.
”Hey, what the fuck are you doing?“ Sal said.
”It could be you and not the bottle,“ I said. ”I want to talk.“
Sal dropped the bag and turned and ran. I jogged along after him. He didn’t look in shape and I figured he wouldn’t last long. He didn’t. He turned into the park and 100 yards past the entrance he stopped, gasping. I jogged up and stopped beside him.
”Oughta take up running gradually,“ I said. ”Starting all out like that is dangerous.“
Sal was sweating in the cold November sunshine, and his face was red.
”Whyn’t you leave me alone,“ he said. ”I didn’t hurt them kids.“
”Sal,“ I said, ”let us cease to play grab-ass. I want to know some things from you, and you are going to tell me.“
Sal’s chest was still heaving.
”Remember how hard I can hit,“ I said.
Sal nodded.
”Who hired you to roust those two
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