'We need to ask him a couple of questions about some people,' Paul said.
'I do hot top, you know. I put a nice driveway in your yard, put a nice sealer on it. Charge you a fair price. That's what I do. I don't go around answering questions about nobody. Gets you in trouble.'
'Sure,' Paul said. 'I understand that, but I'm looking for my mother, and your sister said you might know something.'
'My sister?'
'Caitlin,' Paul said. 'She said you might be able to help us.'
The pit bull kept up his very low rumbling growl.
'What makes you think I got a sister named Caitlin?'
'Well,' Paul said, 'you've got Marty tattooed on your left wrist. I took a sort of guess based on that.'
'Smart guy,' Marty said.
'Smart enough not to tattoo his name on his arm if he doesn't want people to know it,' I said.
'Lot of guys named Marty,' he said.
Paul didn't say anything. Neither did I. The dog kept growling. Marty looked at me.
'You a cop?'
'Sort of,' I said.
'What the hell is sort of a cop?'
'Private detective,' I said.
Marty shook his head. 'Caitlin,' he said. 'The queen of the yuppies. What the fuck kind of name is that for an Italian broad, Caitlin?'
Paul started to speak. I shook my head. We waited.
'I don't know nothing about nobody's mother,' Marty said.
'Patty Giacomin,' Paul said.
'That your old lady?'
'Yes.'
'Hey, that's a good paisano name.'
Paul nodded. 'Her boyfriend is Rich Beaumont.'
Marty grinned. 'Hey,' he said. 'Richie.'
'You know him?'
'Sure. Richie's my main man.'
'We think he and my mother have gone off together,' Paul said, 'and we're trying to find them.'
'Hey, if she went off with Richie, she's having a good time. Why not leave them be?'
'We just want to know that she's okay,' Paul said.
'She's with Richie, kid, she's okay. Hell, she probably…'
'Probably what?'
'Nothing. I forgot for a minute she's your mother, you know?'
'You know where they might be?' I said.
Marty shrugged. To do so, he had to let go of the dog. I shrugged my left shoulder slightly to feel the pleasant weight of the Browning under my arm.
The dog maintained the steady sound. Maybe he was bored. Maybe he was humming to himself.
'Hell, no.'
'You know where Beaumont lives?'
'Sure. Lives on the beach in Revere. One of them new condos.'
'Address?'
'Richie won't like it, me giving you his address.'
'We won't like it if you don't,' I said.
'You getting tough with me, buddy, you like to wrestle with Buster here?'
'Buster's overmatched,' I said, 'unless he's carrying.'
'What's that dog you got, a Doberman?'
I grinned. 'Not quite,' I said. 'What's Rich Beaumont's address?'
Marty hesitated.
'You got all the proper licenses here?' I said. 'I don't see any on that hound, for instance. You got the proper
