A man and woman in their forties came and sat down on the grass near the pond under one of the willows. They had lunch in a big paper bag and shared it, leaning against the tree trunk, their shoulders touching. I dogeared my page and stood up and walked away, across the Public Garden, toward Arlington Street.
Sherry Spellman didn't belong in an outfit that had connections with Bald and his friend. I couldn't spend the rest of my life reading in the park. I couldn't take her away from the church, but maybe I could take the church away from her. I had one end of someone's dirty laundry and I was going to pull it all out, it was a way to kill time. And it was better to kill time than have it kill me.
From my office I called Marty Quirk. Neither he nor Belson had ever heard of the Paultz Construction Company.
'They're dirty,' I said. 'I know it.'
'Lot of people are dirty. Because I'm a cop I'm supposed to know every one of them?'
'Another idol crumbles,' I said.
'I'll ask around. I hear anything, I'll let you know.'
'Thanks.'
'You okay?' Quirk said.
'I don't know,' I said. 'I'm working on it.'
'You need something, you call me.'
'Yes.'
We hung up. I called Vinnie Morris.
'What do you know about Paultz Construction Company?' I said.
'Why ask me?' Vinnie said.
'Because they're crooks and so are you. Figured you might have crossed paths.'
'Spenser,' Vinnie said. 'You got a big pair of balls. Last year Joe Broz and I discussed aceing you. Now you call me up and ask for a favor.'
'What are friends for, Vinnie?'
Vinnie laughed a little. 'I don't know a goddamned thing about the Paultz Construction Company.'
'Ask around,' I said. 'You hear anything, let me know.'
'Maybe.'
Hawk came into my office. I hung up the phone.
I said, 'Hawk.'
He said, 'Want to eat? Or start drinking early?'
'Eat,' I said.
Hawk was wearing a pink suit with a pale blue shirt and a pink and blue small-dotted tie. A blue show handkerchief was tucked into his breast pocket and his head gleamed in the sun. As we walked along Berkeley Street no one made any comment on his appearance. No one seemed to think a pink suit was sissy.
We turned up Newbury. 'How about Acapulco,' I said. 'Mexican cuisine.'
'Tex-Mex,' Hawk said. 'I like it.'
'It's no Lucy's El Adobe,' I said.
'On the other hand,' Hawk said, 'it's no Guadala Harry's either.'
We went up Newbury Street past the galleries and boutiques and stores that sold Danish modern waterbeds.
'You know anything about Paultz Construction Company?' I said.
'Nope.'
'Two people driving a Paultz company car came by and told me that if I don't stop looking into the Reorganized Church of the Redemption, they would punch my ticket for me.'
Hawk smiled happily. 'You faint or anything?'
'Almost, but I managed to get my gun out and point it at them.'
'So they decided not to do it right then.'
'True,' I said.
Acapulco is a small informal restaurant downstairs on Newbury Street that serves decent Mexican food and splendid Carta Blanca beer. We went in. People stared covertly at Hawk.
'The Reorganized Church has loaned the Paultz Construction Company three and a half million in construction mortgages,' I said. 'What does that sound like to you?'
'That sounds like laundering money,' Hawk said.
'Yes.'
'I'll see what I can find out about Paultz,' Hawk said. 'There's people talk with me that don't talk with you.'
