An apartment was never lonely with a hot pizza, cold beer, and a lovely companion. The rain continued to patter against my bow window over Marlborough as Susan took the pizza box from my hands. I’d stopped by Pizzeria Regina in the North End on my way home. Pearl tracked the pepperoni while Susan walked to the kitchen counter.
“Hots only on my half,” I said.
“The ruin of a perfectly good pizza.”
“Have you ever even tried the hots?”
“And never will,” she said. “I’ve never tried anchovies, either.”
“And to think your people eat cold salmon for breakfast.”
Susan shrugged and set out two plates from my good china. Actually, it was my only china.
“A captain in the Arson unit finally agreed to meet with me today,” I said. “He showed me a security video of someone, or something, leaving the scene of the fire.”
“What exactly did you see?”
“A very-fast-moving shadow,” I said. “I think it was a man. But that’s about all I know.”
“There were three fires over the weekend,” Susan said. “Several families lost everything. The ones I saw on the news were Vietnamese and didn’t speak English. Do they think it’s the same person?”
“Arson admitted they had a problem,” I said. “But when I tried to link the church fire and the recent spate, my persistence annoyed him.”
“You do have a gift.”
“Of persistence?”
“Of annoyance.”
“Ah.”
I walked to the refrigerator and fetched a cold Lagunitas. I cracked open the top and sat back at the table. Susan crossed her long, shapely legs and worked on the pizza. She had on her after-work lounging-around clothes: a soft, thin V-neck T-shirt that cost more than my shoes and khaki shorts. I appreciated the muscularity of her legs as she walked over to the couch.
“So what can you do now?” Susan said. “Hang the bad guys by their ankles?”
“Always effective,” I said. “Or find a snitch who needs a favor.”
“Why you were at Walpole.”
“And it’s such a lovely drive,” I said.
I smiled and reached for more pizza. The hots really added the proper punch to the pie. Susan Silverman had great taste in many things, but not in pizza toppings.
“Well, did your snitch do some snitching?” she said.
“I have something,” I said. “A name.”
“Anyone we know?”
“I hope not,” I said. “This guy is a paid killer.”
“What else do you know about him?”
“That in his spare time from committing murder, he enjoys setting fires,” I said. “My snitch referred to him as a ‘yellow prick.’”
“Illustrative.”
“Coming from this guy, it was a compliment.”
From my bow window, I had a decent view of the Public Garden and people walking in the rain. I broke a piece of crust from my pizza and tossed it to Pearl. She caught it in midair.
“Do you think this upstanding individual will speak to you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Do you think you’ll observe him in the commission of lighting a fire?”
“Nope.”
“So what’s the plan?” Susan said.
“When in doubt, bug the crap out of someone until they trip up,” I said. “Spenser’s investigation technique number eleven.”
Susan nodded. “Maybe you should write a textbook?” she said.
“I thought about it,” I said. “But I don’t want to give up my trade secrets so easily.”
“You’ve given them up to Z,” she said.
“That’s different,” I said. I worked on the back half of the pizza slice. “He’s my apprentice.”
“Or is he Hawk’s?”
“Aha,” I said. “Yet to be determined.”
“Have you ever considered the fact that Sixkill may be both?” Susan said. “Taking parts of each of you that will be helpful.”
“That’s worrisome.”
“For whom?”
I thought as I chewed. I drank some beer and swallowed. “Most of the West Coast.”
Susan sighed while I reached for a second slice. “I don’t think it’s stopped raining all day.”
“Nope,” I said.
“Good night to stay in.”
I smiled. “If only we could think of something to do.”
22
King’s Auto Repair was on Route 1-A, a stone’s throw from the Chelsea Bridge. It was in a neighborhood of breathtaking real estate, if you liked jumbo oil tanks and car impound lots. At daybreak, I parked across the street at a twenty-four-hour gym. I’d brought a couple corn muffins and coffee. I made slow work of both for the next three hours as I watched Tyler and his old man move cars from an overflow lot into four bay doors.
I assumed it was his old man. He had long gray hair and was stoop-shouldered, and was wearing blue coveralls.