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    Sixkill s-40

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      She nodded and scanned the notes she had taken. Then she closed the notebook and stood up.

      "I'm inclined to believe him, too," she said. "Despite all the publicity, this isn't a winner for us. We don't prosecute and we're giving him a bye because he's a big star. We prosecute and don't convict, it's because we're incompetent, and probably giving him a bye as well. We prosecute and convict and he's sentenced appropriately, we're all soft on him because he's a star."

      "Only way to win is to get him convicted of something he didn't do, or get him a sentence that won't stand on appeal," Quirk said.

      Angela smiled.

      "I'll consult with my colleagues," she said.

      After she left, Quirk leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, and looked at me for a while.

      "Heard there was three people killed at a construction site in Somerville last night," he said. "Two of them killed with a knife. One with a .40 caliber handgun."

      "World's going to hell in a handbasket," I said.

      Quirk nodded.

      "Guy shot to death was Stephano DeLauria, who is the husband of Jumbo Nelson's agent."

      "Tough on Alice," I said.

      Quirk nodded.

      "He was a button man," Quirk said. "For an L.A. Mob."

      "Really?" I said.

      "Had a big rep, I'm told," Quirk said.

      "Well," I said. "I feel bad for Alice."

      Quirk looked at me some more.

      "I'll bet you do," he said.

      I stood.

      "We done?" I said.

      Quirk nodded.

      "Nice job," he said.

      I said, "Thanks," and left.

      I had one more thing I had to do.

      63

      TOM LOPATA'S OFFICE was in a converted storefront in Malden Square. There were several desks. Tom sat at the one closest to the door. The others were unoccupied.

      He stood when I came in, and I could see him flipping through his mental Rolodex until he matched my face with a name. Then he stuck out his hand.

      "Hey," he said. "Mr. Spenser, excellent to see you."

      I didn't shake hands with him.

      "I've stopped by to tell you what I know," I said. "I'm not telling anyone else. But I want to be sure that you know that I know."

      "Sure," he said, and sat down. "Sure. I'll help you any way I can."

      He gestured toward a chair. I stayed on my feet.

      "You drove your daughter in to hook up with Jumbo Nelson," I said. "We know that. What only you and I know is that you did it because you hoped it would help you sell a big policy to him and the movie company."

      "What are you saying?"

      "I'm saying you pimped your daughter to a notorious pig. For money, and it got her killed."

      "Why. . . What good does this kind of talk do now?" Lopata said.

      "It doesn't do the kid any good. And I won't tell your wife or your son. I won't tell the cops. I won't tell anybody. But I want you to wake up every morning of every day and know what you did," I said. "Every morning."

      "This is crazy," he said. "There's no way you could know this. I didn't do anything wrong."

      I looked at him.

      "I didn't," he said.

      I didn't answer.

      "I spent my life, for crissake, feeding them and buying them stuff I couldn't afford, and sending them to schools I couldn't afford. My fucking son is at Harvard. All I wanted was for her to put in a good word for me, just once. Is that fucking evil?"

      "Yeah," I said. "In fact, it is."

      "Come on," he said. "That's bullshit. I didn't do nothing so bad."

      "Think about it," I said. "Every day."

      I left.

      WHEN I GOT BACK to Boston I changed into sweats, put some clean clothes and a shaving kit in a gym bag, and went down to the Harbor Health Club. I lifted weights. I hit the speed bag. I hit the heavy bag until the sweat was all over me and soaking through my shirt. Then I went to the steam room and sat for a long time. When I came out, I showered and shaved and put on my clean clothes.

      It was still raining when I came out of the club. But it seemed to me that it was getting a little lighter in the west. Over Cambridge. Where Susan lived.

      After the rain lifted, the world would probably seem as freshly washed as I was. The cleanliness was almost certainly illusory, or at best short-lasting. But life is mostly metaphor, anyway.

      I got in my car and drove west.

      THE SPENSER NOVELS

      Painted Ladies

      The Professional

      Rough Weather

      Now & Then

      Hundred-Dollar Baby

      School Days

      Cold Service

      Bad Business

      Back Story

      Widow's Walk

      Potshot

      Hugger Mugger

      Hush Money

      Sudden Mischief

      Small Vices

      Chance

      Thin Air

      Walking Shadow

      Paper Doll

      Double Deuce

      Pastime

      Stardust

      Playmates

      Crimson Joy

      Pale Kings and Princes

      Taming a Sea-Horse

      A Catskill Eagle

      Valediction

      The Widening Gyre

      Ceremony

      A Savage Place

      Early Autumn

      Looking for Rachel Wallace

      The Judas Goat

      Promised Land

      Mortal Stakes

      God Save the Child

      The Godwulf Manuscript

      THE JESSE STONE NOVELS

      Split Image

      Night and Day

      Stranger in Paradise

      High Profile

      Sea Change

      Stone Cold

      Death in Paradise

      Trouble in Paradise

      Night Passage

      THE SUNNY RANDALL NOVELS

      Spare Change

      Blue Screen

      Melancholy Baby

      Shrink Rap

      Perish Twice

      Family Honor

      THE VIRGIL COLE/EVERETT HITCH NOVELS

      Blue-Eyed Devil

      Brimstone

      Resolution

      Appaloosa

      ALSO BY ROBERT B. PARKER

      Double Play

      Gunman's Rhapsody

      All Our Yesterdays

      A Year at the Races (with Joan H. Parker)

      Perchance to Dream

      Poodle Springs (with Raymond Chandler)

      Love and Glory

      Wilderness

      Three Weeks in Spring (with Joan H. Parker)

      Training with Weights (with John R. Marsh)

      FB2 document info

      Document ID: 99993c64-57a1-416a-a0e8-c8d849f8972e

      Document version: 1

      Document creation date: 6.8.2011

      Created using: calibre 0.8.10 software

      Document authors :

      Robert B Parker

      About

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