all though, huh? Probably buying your collection of Kay Kayser records so he and the gang out at the house could have a sock hop. That what it was?“
Croft looked at the window and then the door and then at me. None of us helped him. He opened his mouth and closed it again. He rubbed both hands, palms down, along the arms of his chair. ”I want a lawyer,“ he said. The words came out in a half croak.
”Now that’s dumb,“ I said. ”I mean, I might let you off the hook on this if you help me find the kid. But if you get a lawyer, then all this is going to come out, and maybe you’ll end up being accessory to murder. You know how that’ll cut into a guy’s practice.“
”I told you everything I know about the boy. He’s with Vic in Boston.“
”I need an address, and you have one. You’re too much involved with Harroway not to know. You give me the address and maybe I can keep you out of the rest.“
”On the Fenway. One-thirty-six Park Drive, Apartment Three.“
I reached across the desk, picked up Croft’s phone, and dialed. His eyes widened. ”What are you going to do?“ he said.
”I’m going to keep you on ice for a while.“ A voice answered, ”Essex County Court House.“ I said, ”Lieutenant Healy, please.“
Croft started up from his seat. I reached over and pushed him back down with my hand on his shoulder. ”Be cool,“ I said. ”I can‘ trust you not to warn Harroway. If I get the kid back okay, I’ll spring you.“
Healy came on. I said, ”This is Spenser. I got a suspect on the Bartlett kidnapping, or whatever.“
Healy said, ”Or whatever.“
”And I want to put a lid on him for the afternoon so I can find the kid.“
Healy said, ”What’s his name?“
”John Doe.“
”Oh, Healy said. “Him.”
“He gave me a lead on the kid, Lieutenant, and I’ve got to be sure he doesn’t tip him off before I get there.”
“I gather he didn’t volunteer the lead.”
“We practiced the art of compromise.”
“And you want me to bury him someplace without a charge till you get the Bartlett kid, is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“That is unconstitutional.”
“Yeah.”
“You think you’ll lose the kid if you turn your back on John Doe?”
“Yeah.” Croft was sitting perfectly still now, not looking at anything. There was a pause at Healy’s end of the line.
Then he said, “Okay. Where are you? I’ll have one of the road patrols in your area pick him up.”
“We’ll be parked in the northbound lane of 128 under the Route 1 overpass. Red nineteen-sixty-eight Chevy convertible.
Mass. plates seven-one-two-dash-two-three-four. If you need to contact me, call me here.” I gave him Susan’s number.
Healy said, “If this backfires, Spenser, I’ll have your license and your ass,” and hung up.
I said, “Okay, Doc. You get the picture. Let’s go.”
“How long will they hold me?”
“Till I get the kid. When he’s home I’ll come by and get you out.”
“How will you know where I am?”
“Healy will know.”
“Who is Healy?”
“State cop, works out of the Essex County DA’s office.
Don’t offer him money. He will deviate your septum if you do.”
Croft called his girl again on the intercom, told her there was an emergency and he’d be gone for the day. We went out the back door of the office building and were parked under the Route 1 overpass when a blue State Police cruiser pulled up behind us and a tall red-haired state cop with big ears got out and came around to the driver’s side of my car.
“You Spenser?” he said.
“Yep.”
“I’m supposed to pick up a Mr. Doe,” he said with no expression on his face.
I nodded at Croft. The trooper went around and opened the door. Croft got out. The trooper closed the door. I drove away.
