'Is your son home?'
'Yes, he's in the den.'
I squeezed my lips together for a moment. 'I need to see him,' I said. 'I need to talk with you both about something.'
'What is it?'
'I need to talk with you both,' I said.
Caroline didn't argue. She got up and went out of the living room and returned in a moment with Brett. The first time he looked at me I didn't register. He had a vague apprehensive look, the way a kid might have when his mother says a man wants to talk with you. Then he saw me again and I did register. He stopped short, and stared at me and then took a step back and closer to his mother.
'Yeah,' I said, 'it's me. The guy on the Maine Pike.'
He shook his head and opened his mouth and closed it.
'What about the Maine Pike,' Caroline said.
I looked at Brett. He didn't say anything.
'Brett?' Caroline said.
Brett's face was red. He didn't look at me, or his mother. His hands were jammed into the side pockets of his beige and blue warmup suit.
Caroline looked at me. 'Mr. Spenser?'
I took in a deep breath. 'Having nothing better to do a few days back I staked out the Esteva warehouse and when Brett drove out in a big tractor with no trailer I followed him.'
Neither Brett nor his mother moved. Brett's round body seemed to huddle in on itself.
'He drove up to Belfast, Maine, and hooked up to a refrigerator trailer at a fish wholesaler and headed back home. I hijacked his truck from him on the Maine Turnpike and drove it home and unloaded it and found three hundred kilos of cocaine in it.'
Caroline moved closer to her son. 'Brett didn't know,' she said.
I didn't say anything.
'He was just doing what he was told. He wouldn't know what was in the truck.'
I looked at Brett.
Caroline's voice rose. 'He wouldn't. He's a kid. He was just running errands.'
'I was not,' Brett said.
Caroline's head jerked toward him.
'Mr. Esteva trusted me. I was the only one he'd trust.'
'Brett . . .' Caroline said.
'He did,' Brett said. 'And you stole the blow, and Mr. Esteva is mad at me.'
'How often did you run the stuff for Esteva,' I said.
'You're the one made Mr. Esteva mad,' Brett said. 'I had a good job and he trusted me. I was the only one he trusted to drive.' Brett's face was even redder and his voice had a wheezy quality. Caroline had both hands pressed against her mouth. She had edged over so she was partly in front of her son. Fat as he was she couldn't shield him entirely.
'I'm not after you, Brett,' I said. 'I'm after Esteva.'
'No,' he said.
'Yeah,' I said. 'You can help me.'
'No,' Brett said again.
This wasn't going quite as I'd planned. Someday, when I had time, maybe I'd think of exactly when it was that something had gone as I'd planned.
'He was simply doing what his boss told him. He had no responsibility, he's seventeen years old.'
'I did.' Brett's teeth were clenched and the words hissed out. 'I did. I knew.'
'God damn it, Brett.' Caroline was hissing too. 'You be quiet.'
'And you spoiled it,' he hissed. 'You got Mr. Esteva mad at me. You going to get me fired and Mr. Esteva mad.'
'Brett,' Caroline hissed.
Brett turned and rushed out of the room. Caroline stood frozen on the spot and looked after him. She said, 'Brett,' again, but there was no hiss to it. She looked at me.
'He's only seventeen,' she said. 'You can't-'
'I don't want to,' I said. 'I'm only interested in Esteva.'
'It's the first job he's ever had,' she said. 'He didn't finish high school. He's . . .' Brett came back in the room with a handgun.
