Slide had been pressed into service as one of the ball boys. He ran back and forth across the rear of the court, his face a mask of concentration. A young girl in pigtails worked the other side of the court.
“I had no idea Rita played tennis,” Susan said.
“She’s a woman of many talents,” I said as I watched her smash a serve into the opposite court. Juan could only watch it go by.
“Forty love,” the umpire called. Rita and John were winning. It didn’t seem to be much of a contest.
WE FINISHED OUR MEAL and returned to our seats in the stands as the doubles were wrapping up. Rita and John had beaten Juan and Martina, though it had gone to a tiebreaker.
“I think now would be a good time to console Juan on his loss,” I said to Susan. “Keep my seat warm.”
Susan nodded. The crowd was loud and enthusiastic. I made my way through the throng to Juan. “Sorry about the match, but you put up a good fight,” I said.
Juan smiled. “Playing with Martina is honor enough.”
“You must be proud of Carmen for putting this all together. It’s quite a party.”
“She’s really something, don’t you think?” Juan said.
There was a tone of longing, perhaps, in his voice. As if he knew that he had lost her and he knew why and now his prize possession was soon to leave him. It didn’t matter that he was the one to send her away permanently. Maybe he even loved her. Pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn.
On my way back to my seat I went over to one of the dark-skinned men who were watching the match. “You Martita’s brother?” I said.
He shook his head and pointed down the way to the next man standing guard. I walked over to him and stuck my hand out. “I’m Spenser. I took Martita and her baby to the health clinic last week, remember?”
The tall, heavyset man grinned at me, showing a lot of gold. “Muchas gracias, señor.”
“Sorry, I only speak a little Spanish.”
“I’m Marco. What can I do for you?” He kept his gaze on the tennis match while he was talking.
“I just wanted to say hello. Carmen tells me you’re the security guard here. That’s a pretty big responsibility, protecting all these people.”
Marco grinned. “I am but one of many. Mr. Alvarez has . . .” He stopped to count. “He has ten guards here.”
“But that’s because it’s a big event today, right?”
Marco shook his head. “No, we are ten to twelve most of the time. Three shifts of four men. Sometimes more, sometimes less when Mr. Alvarez travels. But mostly ten to twelve.”
“Good to know,” I said. “I’m sure you are well trained.”
“Sí,” he said, and his grin broadened. “And we are well armed.”
“Did Carmen tell you I’m a private detective? I use a Beretta. Easy to handle, gets the job done.”
“Smith and Wesson’s a good weapon for close range. We have a snub-nose .38 special every time. Or for the ankle, a .25 Beretta.” Marco was enthusiastic.
“Rifles?”
“For hunting. Not much for our work.”
A burst of static sounded from Marco’s right ear. I hadn’t noticed his earpiece. Marco listened, then leaned into a microphone at his shoulder and said, “Sí. On my way.
“I have to go now,” he said. “Nice speaking with you, Spenser. Thank you for helping Martita.”
I went back to where Susan was sitting just in time to see Carmen and Kim take the court.
The umpire stepped forward for the coin toss to determine the first serve. Kim won the toss, and she and Carmen took their places.
Kim bounced in place at the baseline. She looked across the net at Carmen to make sure she was ready to start.
Her first serve whizzed over the net and hit the line.
Carmen watched it go by. She smiled at Kim and walked to the other side of the court. Kim served again. Another ace. No smile from Carmen this time. Athletes are all the same. Friendship gives way to the competitive spirit every time.
Carmen took the next two points, then Kim served two more aces and took the first game. It was Carmen’s serve, and she made the most of it. Carmen rushed the net each time, ready to knock back every return. She won the second game without giving Kim a point. Sweat darkened the back of Carmen’s navy-blue top. Kim’s already pink cheeks grew pinker.
“Any chance we can leave without being noticed?” I said to Susan.
“So much for showing support,” Susan said.
“I know what you mean, but just watching this has exhausted me.”
Susan nodded. “Poor baby. We’ll be discreet.”
“Let’s hit it, honey bun,” I said.
And we did.
I WAS UNLOCKING THE DOOR to my office when I saw a shadow in the corner by the stairwell. It moved. I backed up and reached for my weapon.
“Slide,” I said. “What are you doing over there? Come on in.” I opened the door.
He gave me a quick smile before putting out his hand. Maybe Carmen taught him. I took it, and gravely we shook.
“Are you very busy, Spenser?” he said.
“Not too busy. Tell me what’s up,” I said.
Slide had on a new pair of jeans and a Red Sox sweatshirt, along with the same oversize navy peacoat.
“I want to get a present for Carmen,” he said. He looked at me, trusting that I would know exactly what the twenty-nine-year-old ex-mistress of a drug czar would fancy for Christmas.
“What’s our budget?”
He looked worried. He dug into his jeans pocket and brought out some crumpled bills and gave them to me. Twenty-two dollars of hard-earned money. “This should do it,” I said to him. “Follow me.”
We left my office and headed toward the kiosks at Downtown Crossing, a street mall in an area near where Filene’s Basement once welcomed tourists and shoppers from the suburbs. Now carts lined the center of the street, each one loaded with scarves, hats, ties, flowers, and cheap jewelry.
I moved purposefully ahead through the crowds of shoppers, Slide at my heels. The carts were draped with Christmas lights, and the holiday music blared from outdoor speakers.
I turned to check on Slide. His thin face was pale and drawn. I felt his hand reach out for mine, and together we went along, inspecting each cart for something that he thought would be right for Carmen.
Slide tugged my hand when we got to the jewelry cart. He picked up a tiny silvertone pin in the shape of a tennis racquet, edged with blue enamel. “How much,” I asked the young woman behind the cart. “Fifteen,” she replied through a thick wad of chewing gum.
“Can you gift-wrap this for us,” I said.
Slide’s face showed a mixture of happiness and relief to have found the pin. He took the small box with its glossy paper and bright ribbon, and for the first time he seemed unafraid of the crowd and the noise. He held his hand out for his change, and he shoved it and the box into his jacket pocket.
“How about a hot chocolate?” I said.
He nodded, and we made our way through the shoppers to the Emack & Bolio’s on State Street.
We sat at a café table, and I watched Slide enjoying the marshmallow on top of his hot chocolate. He mashed it with his spoon to make it last longer. It was serious work.
I remembered how my dad and uncles would take me for a treat at the drugstore. I could still taste the hot fudge that got chewy on the melting scoop of vanilla ice cream.
When we had finished, we stood on the sidewalk to say our good-byes.
“Thanks for your help, Spenser,” Slide said. “I think Carmen will really love this, don’t you?”
“I do,” I said. “How did you get in here from Weston?” I asked. “And how are you going to get home?”
“Got a ride from one of the men at
the farm,” Slide said. “They come in most days to run errands. Now I’ll go over to Street Business. Either Joe or Frankie will give me a ride back.”
I watched him melt into the crowd and disappear down the street. I wasn’t sure how I felt about an eleven-year-old boy negotiating the city streets on his own. I know I had done it myself, once upon a time. I could almost hear Hawk chiding me for being so soft. But that was different. It was Christmas in Boston. A boy should be able to travel these streets, as he had before. It was a time of peace and goodwill and all that. In a perfect world, the boy was heading for home, and parents watched for him at the window. Different times, indeed.
MY RED MESSAGE LIGHT was blinking when I returned to my office. I looked at it for a moment and wondered if I could get a matching green light in the spirit of the holidays. Then I pushed the button. It was Healy. I called him back.
“Any news?” he said after answering.
“Happy holidays to you as well,” I said.
“Right,” he said. “Anything happening with Alvarez?”
“Well, Rita Fiore’s got a mean serve.”
“Very funny.”
I told him about the tennis event at the farm.
“So what did you learn about Alvarez?”
“He’s got twenty-four-hour security and a small but well-equipped arsenal out there. Carmen tells me he’s got a safe room under the stable, which is probably where he keeps the kind of paperwork that can earn him the horizontal stripes. She doesn’t think he’s getting ready to bolt, but she also says she hasn’t been close to him lately and wouldn’t know.”
“He wouldn’t take her with him?”
“No. She thinks he’d kill her instead because she knows too much.”
“Well, I’ve got word the Feds are sure Alvarez is about to blow town. Definitely by New Year’s, if not by Christmas.”
“Christmas? That’s two days away.”
“There’s a lot of chatter, lots of money moving around. People in motion,” Healy said. “All circumstantial at the moment. But if we’re going to nab him, it’s going to have to be soon. Which means that if Alvarez thinks he has some loose ends to tie, he’s going to act soon. You might want to let your friend Carmen know.”
I hung up, then dialed Carmen.
“Spenser,” she said. “I was just about to call you.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said. “But something is happening here. Do you remember the dinner party I told you about? It’s still on, tonight instead of tomorrow. Juan just came by the stable to inform me. He was charming, but it was clear I was being instructed to attend, not invited.”
“What time is this all transpiring?”
“Cocktails at six-thirty. Dinner at seven-thirty.”
“Listen carefully, Carmen. The Feds believe Alvarez is about to disappear. If he means to do you harm, it will probably happen tonight. Right now you have two choices—run or stay. If you want to leave before the dinner, I’ll drive out now and pick you up. If you want to stay, I’ll bring some reinforcements with me and we’ll watch what happens. Maybe we can catch Juan in something that justifies an arrest. But if you stay, you’ll be putting yourself in danger.”
“I’m not afraid.” There was a pause. “Well, not much, anyway. I want to bring Juan to justice. My only concern right now is Slide. He’s in Boston, at Street Business. I’ll call Jackie and have him stay there tonight. If Slide’s safe, I will stay.”
I heard a low moan from the corridor. I looked up and saw a shadow pass in front of the frosted window on my office door. There was a loud thud against the door, and the shadow disappeared.
“Carmen,” I said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll be out to Weston in about an hour. Call me if anything happens before then.”
I put down the phone, slid open the desk drawer, and pulled out my gun. Then I walked over to the door, stood to the side, and listened. I heard what sounded like hoarse breathing in the corridor. I turned the knob, pulled open the door, and swung into the doorway in a modified Weaver stance.
Slide was sitting in a crumpled heap at my door. There was a deep cut on his forehead, starting just above his left eye. The eye was starting to swell, and the flesh around it already was starting to bruise. His nose was bloodied. By the way he was curled and holding his stomach, I could tell his ribs were bruised, if not broken.
I checked the corridor, then I squatted down next to him.
“Spenser,” he said, his right eye open just a slit.
“It’s okay, Slide. Don’t try to move.” I got down closer to his face. “You’re going to be okay.” He had been beaten, but nothing appeared to be broken. I scooped him up and carried him into the office and put him down on the sofa. Beneath the bulky peacoat, he was lighter than he should have been.
He shivered. I eased him out of the peacoat, then filled a basin with warm water. Using a clean cloth, I washed his face and hands as gently as I could, wiping away as much blood as possible. Other than the cut and the bloody nose, his head was fine, though the gash to the forehead caused a lot of bleeding. He’d have some bruises, and his body would be sore. I opened the first-aid kit I kept in my file cabinet and used gauze and tape to bandage his head. I thought he’d do okay without stitches.
I wrapped him in a blanket, and soon his shivering stopped. I made some hot tea at the boiling tap by my coffeepot and added four packets of sugar. I put a pillow behind his head and sat down next to him on the sofa, holding the mug out to him. “Come on, pal. This is good. Give it a try.”
He did tentative sips at first, then drained the mug. Color returned to his cheeks. “Spenser,” he said. “Jackie needs help.”
“Easy, Slide,” I said. “You all right to talk?”
He nodded.
“Tell me.”
Slide tried to shift toward me and winced slightly. I moved off the sofa and squatted directly in front of him.
“They came for Jackie and beat him up.” Very quietly, tears streaming down his face. “I think they may have killed him.”
“Okay, little man, hang on. Tell me what happened. From the beginning.”
“I go over to Street Business after I left you,” he said. “When I get there, I see Joe and Frankie talking to two guys out on the street in front of the house. Then the two guys go inside, and Joe and Frankie walk away.” He stopped and winced again. I filled the mug with water and helped him take a sip.
“Then what?”
“When I get inside, I see these guys yelling at Jackie. They’re kicking and punching him, and one of them has got the iron poker thing from the fireplace, and he’s whaling on Jackie. Jackie’s trying to fight back, but he can’t handle both of them.”
“So what did you do?”
“I ran in and tried to help him. But one of the guys starts kicking and hitting me. When I break free, Jackie says, ‘Get Spenser!’ Even though they punched me in the face, I got away. I ran right here.”
“What happened to Joe and Frankie?”
“They were there at first, but when the guys went into Street Business, they just disappeared.”
“Was anyone else around? Any of the other kids? Any of the other staff?”
“Not that I could see. It was just these two guys and Jackie.”
“Did you recognize the two guys? Had you seen them before?”
“No. Never.”
“Think hard, Slide. Maybe at Street Business? Maybe at the farm?”
Slide shook his head. “No, I never seen them before. They were both big, with lots of muscle. Hispanic guys.”
“Did you catch anything they said to Jackie?”
“No. They were shouting at him, but it wasn’t in English. I didn’t understand it.”
“Okay, good job,” I said. “You rest a minute. I need to make a phone call.”
Slide�
�s right eye grew wide, and he tried to stand up. “Please, Spenser, you’ve got to help Jackie. They hurt him bad.”
“I will,” I said. “Let’s get you taken care of first.”
I called Susan.
“Are you free right now?” I said. “I need your help.” I filled her in on Slide and Jackie.
“Are you calling the police?” she said.
“No. I want to get over to Street Business first. Right now I need to make sure Slide gets checked out. Then I need to find Jackie.” I looked at my watch. It was five past one. “And then I’ve got to get out to Weston. Alvarez may be on the move, and Carmen may be in danger.” I looked over at Slide. He was staring at me intently, but he was quiet. “All that paperwork can wait.”
“I’ll meet you at Mass General,” Susan said. “I’ll take care of Slide. Just tell me Hawk will be with you.”
“My next call,” I said.
HAWK WAS AT THE Harbor Health Club. I updated him on developments. “Meet me at Mass General emergency,” I said. “I think I want Vinnie in on this, too.”
“I’ll find him. Be there in fifteen minutes.”
I bundled up Slide in the blanket and headed out the door.
“Okay, little man. Let’s go get you fixed up. Then I’ll find Jackie.”
Susan, Hawk, and Vinnie Morris were waiting for me at the emergency entrance to Mass General. Hawk spoke with the triage nurse, who either knew him or wanted to know him, and she wheeled Slide inside, Susan at his side.
Hawk, Vinnie, and I drove over to Street Business in my car. On the way, I called Healy.
“The game’s afoot,” I said. I filled him in on the beatings. “If your sources are correct, and Alvarez is about to fly, tonight may be his opportunity to dispatch Carmen. Time for plan B.”
“Which is?”
“Hawk, Vinnie Morris, and I scope out the dinner party. If something happens, we move in and stave off disaster until you and your guys can come in. Can you meet me in Weston at six?”
Silent Night: A Spenser Holiday Novel Page 9
