”I’d be glad to make him go faster, Buck.“
”He’s on his way, Lester. Aren’t you, Spenser?“
”Yeah, I am, but as they say in all the movies, Bucky, I’ll be back.“
”Ah wouldn’t if ah were you. Ah can’t restrain Lester too much more.“
”Well, do what you can,“ I said. ”I don’t want to kill him.“ Maynard opened the door. He’d never taken his hand off the knob.
”Hey, Spenser,“ Lester said, ”I got something you haven’t seen before.“ He put his hands behind his back and brought them back out front. In his right hand was a nickelplated automatic pistol. It looked like a Beretta. ”How’s that look to you, Mr. Pro?“
I said, ”Lester, if you point that thing at me again, I’ll take it away from you and shoot you with it.“ Then I stomped out. The door closed behind me and I headed for the street.
Outside, the wind was hotter and stronger. I drove home in such a funk that I didn’t even check the skirts on the girls, something I did normally as a matter of course, even on still days. Across the street from my apartment was a city car, and in it were Belson and the cop named Billy.
I walked over to the car. ”You guys want something or are you hiding from the watch commander?“
”Lieutenant wants you,“ Billy said.
”Maybe I don’t want him.“
Belson was slumped down in the passenger seat with his hand over his eyes. He said, ”Aw knock off the bullshit, Spenser. Get in the car. Quirk wants you and we both know you’re going to come.“
He was right, of course. The way I felt if someone said up I’d say down. I got in the back seat. In the two minutes it took us to drive to police headquarters no one said anything.
Quirk’s office had moved since last time. He was thirdfloor front now, facing out onto Berkeley Street. With a view of the secretaries from the insurance companies when they broke for lunch. On his door it said COMMANDER, HOMICIDE.
Belson knocked and opened the door. ”Here he is, Marty.“
Quirk sat at a desk that had nothing on it but a phone and a clear plastic cube containing pictures of his family. He was immaculate and impervious, as he had been every other time I ever saw him. I wondered if his bedroom slippers had a spit shine. Probably didn’t own bedroom slippers. Probably didn’t sleep. He said, ”Thanks, Frank. I’ll see him alone.“
Belson nodded and closed the door behind me. There was a straight chair in front of the desk. I sat in it. Quirk looked at me without saying anything. I looked back. There was a traffic cop outside at the Stuart Street intersection and I could hear his whistle as he moved cars around the construction.
Quirk said, ”I think you burned those two studs up in Saugus.“
I said, ”Uh-huh.“
”I think you set them up and burned them.“
”Uh-huh.“
”I went up and took a look early this morning. One of the MDC people asked me to. Informal. Doerr never fired his piece. Wally Hogg did, the magazine’s nearly empty, there’s a lot of brass up above the death scene in the woods, and there’s ricochet marks on one side of the big rock. There’s also six spent twelve-gauge shells on the ground on the other side of the rock. The shrubs are torn up around where the M-sixteen brass was. Like somebody fired off about five rounds of shotgun into the area.“
”Uh-huh.“
”You knew that Doerr was gunning for you. You let him know you’d be there and you figured they’d try to backshoot you and you figured you could beat them. And you were right.“
”That’s really swell, Quirk, you got some swell imagination.“
”It’s more than imagination, Spenser. You’re around buying me a drink, asking about Frank Doerr. Next day I get a tip that Doerr is going to blow you up, and this morning I was looking at Doerr and his gunsel dead up the woods. You got an alibi for yesterday afternoon and evening?“
”Do I need one?“
Quirk picked up the clear plastic cube on his desk and looked at the pictures of his family. In the outer office a phone rang. A typewriter clacked uncertainly. Quirk put the cube down again on the desk and looked at me.
”No,“ he said. ”I don’t think you do.“
”You mean you didn’t share your theories with the Saugus cops?“
”It’s not my territory.“
”Then why the hell am I sitting here nodding my head while you talk?“
”Because this is my territory.“ The hesitant typist in the outer office was still hunting and pecking. ”Look, Spenser, I am not in sorrow’s clutch because Frank Doerr and his animal went down. And I’m not even all that unhappy that you put them down. There’s a lot of guys couldn’t do it, and a lot of guys wouldn’t try. I don’t know why you did it, but I guess probably it wasn’t for dough and maybe it wasn’t even for protection. If I had to guess, I’d guess it might have been to take the squeeze off of someone else. The squeezee, you might say.“
”You might,“ I said. ”I wouldn’t.“
”Yeah. Anyway. I’m saying to you you didn’t burn them in my city. And I’m kind of glad they’re burnt. But…“
Quirk paused and looked at me. His stare was as heavy and solid as his fist. ”Don’t do it ever in my city.“
