“She prob’ly was,” he said. “She look like me.”
He looked back toward the wine again. I reached under the front seat and brought out a bottle of Glenfiddich Single Malt Scotch Whiskey. It’s handy to have around, because there are times when it is a better bribe than money.
“Try a little of this,” I said.
Tallboy stared at it and then took the bottle and swallowed some.
“Damn,” he said, “that is some juke, man. That is some bad beverage.”
“You know who killed her?” I said.
His eyes slid away from mine and he took another pull on the Glenfiddich. Then he looked back at me and his eyes were tearing. He was drunker than I thought and the scotch was moving him along.
“Sure you do. But you don’t care. You want them to get away with it.”
He shifted his gaze to Erin. “That ain’t so, Miss Macklin.”
“I know,” she said. “I know you don’t want them to get away with it.” She put her hand over the back of the seat and he took it and she held his hand. The tears were running down his face now. I was quiet. We waited. He drank again.
“Nine my fucking baby,” he said. “Motherfuckers.”
“Who?” Erin said.
“Motherfucking Hobarts.” He was mumbling. I had to listen hard. “Dealing some classic for them and I a little short, I gonna pay them. I just a little short that minute. And motherfuckers nine my little girl.”
“You sure?” I said.
“Who else it gonna be?” Tallboy said.
“You know which Hobart?” I said.
He shook his head.
“It ain’t over,” he said. “We gon take care of business. Can’t fuck with us and ride.” His head had sunk to his chest. He was talking into the bottle… and out of it. “Can’t dis a Dillard and ride, man.”
I looked at Erin and gestured with my head. “Thank you, Tallboy,” she said. “You know how to call me up, don’t you?”
Tallboy nodded.
“If you want to talk about this any more, you call me,” she said.
“Yass, Miss Macklin.”
Tallboy lurched out of the car holding the bottle of Glenfiddich. He held it up in one hand and waved it at the rest of the posse.
“Fine,” he said and started to say something else, and didn’t seem able to and lurched on into the garage, out of the rain.
I slid the car into gear and pulled away. “He isn’t even tough,” I said.
“Of course he isn’t,” Erin said. “He tries, but he’s not.”
“Tough is the only way to survive in here,” I said.
“I know,” Erin said. “Some of them are tougher than one would think possible… and some of them aren’t.”
CHAPTER 33
Erin and Hawk and I were nibbling at some Irish whiskey in my office. It was dark in the Back Bay. The rain had stopped, but everything was still wet and the streets gleamed blackly when I looked out the window.
“Say the Hobarts did it is saying Major did it,” Hawk said.
“If Tallboy’s right,” I said.
“Tallboy will never testify,” Erin said.
“No need,” Hawk said.
“Spenser said something like that,” Erin said. “I asked him if he might take action of his own. He said he might.”
Hawk smiled. He drank some whiskey. And rolled it a little on his tongue and swallowed. Then he stood and went to the sink in the corner and added a little tap water. He stood while he sampled it, nodded to himself, and came back to his chair.
Erin said, “What would you consider appropriate action?”
“We could kill him,” Hawk said. Erin looked at me.
“You?” she said.
“Somebody is going to,” I said.
“I don’t think you would,” she said, “simply execute him yourself.”
I let that slide. There was nothing there for me. She looked back at Hawk.
