Family Honor - Robert B Parker (6 page)

"I can get you to Tony," Richie said.
 

"What I can't figure is the professor," Don said when
the drink order was in. "Sonovabitch won't let you take notes or use a
tape recorder or anything. How's he expect you to learn anything?"

"Maybe he wants you to listen," I said.

"I listen but I can't remember half what he says."

"And look," I said. "Maybe he wants you to look at the
art."

"But if I can't take notes how do I know what I'm looking
at."

"Original reaction?"

Don laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, sure. So you're a real painter, Sunny."

"I paint."

"Got a studio and all?"

"I have a loft in Fort Point, I live there and paint there."

"Live alone?"

"I live with a bull terrier."

"A pit bull?"

"No, a bull terrier. Bull terriers are nothing like pit
bulls."

"Yeah that's what they all say," Don said.

The drinks came. A Belvedere martini for him. A glass
of Merlot for her. Don drank half of his.

"You're with a big firm?"

"Yes. Cone Oakes and Belding on State Street. Man, they
are working me to death."

"It must be hard."

"Hard if you care about getting there."

"Getting where?"

"To the top," Don said. "I want a partnership."

"How's it look?" I said.

"Well," he finished his martini and looked for the waiter.
"I figure there's twenty-four hours in every day and if I can't find something
useful to do with twenty of them, then I don't deserve to get there."

"Four hours' sleep?" I said.

The waiter saw Don's plight and brought him another martini.
Don grinned at me over the rim of the glass. He drank and put the glass
down.

"Oh baby, oh baby," he said. "Four hours' sleep on the
nights I don't have a date."

His smile got wider.

"Energetic," I said.

"You got that right," Don said.

We were at the bar in Sonsie where most of the patrons
looked like the anorexic models in high fashion magazines. Men and women.
I never knew why emaciated and angry was fashionable.

"What is your legal specialty?" I said.

He grinned at me again. He had on the power-broker uniform:
dark suit, striped shirt. Bright silk tie with little golf tees on it.
I'd have bet most of my loft that if he took his coat off he'd be wearing
suspenders.

"Winning cases," he said.

"You're a litigator."

"Right on, babe. That's pretty good. Most of the girls
I go out with don't know a litigator from a guy that draws up trust agreements."

"Maybe you should start going out with women," I said.

"Like you?"

"Sure," I said. "Just like me."

"Well, that's what I'm doing, Sunny. That's just what
I'm doing." He spent most of the late afternoon and somewhat too far into
the early evening drinking Belvedere martinis, telling me about his most
famous cases. By 7:30 he was sloshed. I thought about leaving, but I wasn't
sure he could get himself home.

"You have a car?" I said. He did.

"Why don't we go home in mine?" I said.

"I kin drive," he said.

"I'm sure you can, but so can I. Let me drive you home."
 
"You feel better about that, Sunny?"

"Yes."

"Okey baby dokey."

I got him to the curb and gave the valet my ticket and
when the car came I got him into the passenger side. Bending over, I was
glad I had decided against my adorable little slip dress. With a little
prodding he remembered where he lived and I drove him there, a cellar apartment
on the corner of Mass Ave. and Commonwealth.

I pulled into a hydrant space at the curb. He sat without
moving.

"Don't pass out," I said.

He giggled.

"Not me," he said. "I'm frisky as a lamb."

He ran "as-a-lamb" together. We sat. Nothing happened.
You have to get out, Julie kept telling me. You have to date. You can't
sit home wishing you and Richie could make it work. I got out and went
around and opened the car door for him.

"Hop out, Don," I said.

"Besh offer I had," he said and swung his legs around.
I got a hand under his right arm and together we got him out of the car.
Together we wobbled him across the sidewalk and down four steps to his
front door. He fumbled the keys out and dropped them, and pressed his head
against the door jamb and giggled some more. I found his keys and. opened
the door for him and together we wobbled into his apartment.

"Wan' a nightcap?" he said.

"No, thank you."

"You arn' going?"

"Yep, I am."

"Hey," he said.

I turned and started out. Don wobbled after me and put
his arms around me from behind.

"Come on," he said.

"Let go, Don," I said.

"Un unh," he said. "Night's young."

He rubbed himself against me. I was amazed he could still
become erect. I wondered if he could feel the gun in the small of my back.
If he could it didn't distract him.

"C'mon, Sunny, lighten up," he said.

He started to maneuver me toward the couch. I took in
a deep breath and let it out. I stomped one of my two-inch heels hard on
his toes, and twisted as if I were grinding out a cigarette. He screamed
and let go of me. I opened the door and looked back at him. He was hopping
on one foot and saying "Bitch" and trying not to tip over, drunk as he
was.

"Good night," I said. "And thanks for a lovely evening."

As I drove back to South Boston, I thought there might
be worse things than sitting home wishing Richie and I could make it work.
 

"You got some good advance notices," Tony Marcus said.
"Richie Burke and my man Spike."

"Spike?"

"Yeah. He called me this morning."

"Spike gets around," I said.

"He do," Marcus said.

"You still married to Richie?"

"Nope."

Marcus smiled and looked at junior.

"Amicable divorce," he said to junior.

Junior didn't look as if he knew what amicable meant.
He also didn't look like he cared. Tony leaned back in his chair and checked
to see that the proper amount of French cuff showed under the sleeves of
his blue suit.

"So you're looking for a whore, Miss Sunny?"

"Fifteen-year-old runaway," I said.

Tony smiled. "That may be what she used to be, she on
the street now, she's a whore."

"Either way," I said. "I'd like to find her."

"Why?"

"I've been hired to."

"So you really a detective," Tony said.

"Un huh."

"You don't look much like a detective," he said.

"You don't look much like a pimp," I said. Tony laughed.

"Feisty," Tony said to junior. Junior nodded.

"Calling me a pimp," Tony said, "like calling Henry Ford
an auto worker."

"Think you can help me find this kid?" I said.

"Sure," Tony said, "she hooking, I can find her."

"And if she isn't you'll know?"

"'Less she hooking in East Long-fucking-meadow or someplace."

"Probably not," I said.

"She hooking east of Springfield, I can find her. Worcester,
Lynn, Lawrence, Lowell, New Bedford, Fall River, she be one of mine.

"Not Springfield?" I said just to be saying something.
Guys like Tony Marcus like to talk. Especially to women.

"Springfield belongs to Hartford," Tony said. "The Spices
run it."

"So how shall we do this?"

"You think I'm going to do something?"

"I assume you didn't get me in here to tell me no personally,"
I said.

Tony grinned.

"Knew your father, you know that?"

"No."

"Never busted me," Tony said. "Sonova bitch tried hard
enough."

"I didn't know he worked vice," I said.

"When he after me he working homicide," Tony said.

That was to scare me in case junior hadn't already scared
me. I remained calm.

"So how we going to find Millicent Patton?"

"You got a picture?" Tony said.

I'd had copies made of the one her father had given me.
I produced one. Tony looked at it, and nodded slowly. "She'll make some
money," he said.

"Will she keep any?"

"'Course not," Tony said without looking up from the picture.
I waited. After a time Tony handed the picture to junior.

"Have some copies made," he said. "Circulate them. Let
me know if we got her and who her pimp is."

Junior took the picture and continued to stand against
the wall. Tony winked at me.

"Junior," he said. "I think I be safe with Sunny Randall
here, while you go out and get that picture started."

"She ain't been searched," Junior said.

"I going to risk it," Tony said. "Go ahead."

Junior looked at me for a minute, then nodded and went
out of the office. Tony leaned far back in his big high-backed leather
swivel chair and put his feet up on the desk. His loafers had gold chains
on them.

"I'm a pretty bad man," he said.

"I heard that," I said.

"A lot of women wouldn't want to come here alone."

"Lot of people," I said.

He laughed.

"Ah," he said, "a fucking feminist."

"That may be an oxymoron," I said.

"You ain't scared?"

"Not yet," I said.

"Maybe you just covering up," Tony said.

"Maybe."

He shook his head.

"Naw. Seen too many scared people in my time to be fooled.
You ain't scared."

"You have no reason to harm me," I said.

"Not so far," he said.

"And I know you don't want trouble with the Burkes."

"Don't need trouble with anybody," he said. "Making a
good living."

"See?"

He smiled again.

"If I decided I wanted to harm you, maybe you be scared."

"Why don't we wait until that happens," I said. "Then
we'll know."

"I going to help you with this, Sunny. Richie asked me.
Spike asked me. So I'll help. But don't make no mistake about me."

"No mistakes," I said. "I understand why you'd accommodate
Richie, but why Spike?"

Tony smiled again.

"I like Spike," he said.

"I didn't know people as bad as you liked anyone."

"Sure we do," Tony said. "We just don't let it interfere."