“We up against it I can always hold Amir upside down,” Hawk said, “and shake him until something falls out.”
“That’s plan B,” I said. “First we find out what we can by watching. Otherwise while you’re shaking him other people might scoot out of sight.”
“What other people?”
“That’s what we’re watching to find out.”
“Why you think there’s other people?”
“Leads somewhere,” I said. “Assume there aren’t any other people, and we don’t know what to do next.”
“You caterers do be some deep philosophical motherfuckers,” Hawk said.
“We do,” I said.
CHAPTER FORTY
Before we could unleash ourselves on Amir and Willie we had Louis Vincent to attend to. It was a tricky one to time. I had shared my plan with Sgt. O’Connor of the Reading cops. He was keeping an eye on KC and reported that she was home. Burt Roth had given me his beeper number and said he’d be standing by. So it was all in place, at least for the moment, and if Louis Vincent came out to lunch this noontime we might be in business. If he didn’t we’d have to innovate.
He did. I was standing in a doorway on the opposite corner of State and Congress so I could see him whichever door he came out. State Street was one way, so Hawk was idling his Jaguar, on the corner of State and Broad, two blocks down. Vincent walked out onto Congress Street wearing a Burberry trench coat and a tweed hat and turned the corner and headed down State Street toward the waterfront. I let him see me and as soon as he did he ran. It was a panic run. Hawk turned up onto State Street and was idling at the curb when I caught Vincent. Vincent tried to kick me and I turned my left hip and deflected the kick and nailed him on the chin with a right hook. He sagged, I caught him. Hawk was out of his car and had the back door open. I shoved Vincent in, and went in after him. Hawk was back in and behind the wheel by the time I got straightened up, and we were off to Reading. A couple of pedestrians stared after us.
Vincent took a while to get over the right hook, so he was quiet as we went down past North Station and through the old West End. As Hawk went up onto the expressway at Leverett Circle, Vincent said, “What are you doing?”
“Shut up.”
“You can’t…”
I slapped him across the face. It was more startling than painful. He put his hands up in case I was going to do it again.
“Shut up.”
Vincent was a quick study, one slap was enough. He didn’t say another word as we went up Route 93. Hawk dialed Burt Roth’s beeper, punched in his car phone number, and hung up. As we were passing Medford Square the car phone rang, Hawk spoke into it a moment, and hung up. Vincent looked worried but didn’t say anything.
“He’ll be there,” Hawk said to me without turning his head.
Vincent looked more worried when we turned off at the Reading exit and even more worried when we headed north on Route 28 toward KC’s place. A Reading police car was parked out front. Roth was in the parking lot in a green Subaru station wagon. When we pulled in, I got out and waved at the Reading cruiser. Sgt. O’Connor gave me a thumbs-up sign out the window as he pulled away. Hawk had gotten out and was standing by Vincent’s door. I went around and opened it and jerked my head at Vincent.
“Where we going?” Vincent said.
Hawk reached in, got hold of his hair, and dragged him out headfirst.
“Hate a rapist,” Hawk said.
Burt Roth got out of his car and walked toward us. And stopped in front of us and looked at Vincent. Roth’s face had no expression.
“You know each other?” I said.
“Know of,” Roth said. “We’ve never met.”
“Who are you?” Vincent said.
“Burt Roth.”
“Jesus.”
“Let’s go inside,” I said.
“I don’t want to go in,” Vincent said.
I took his arm and moved him firmly toward the door. As I did so he had half an eye on Hawk.
“Nobody here cares anything at all about what you want, Louis.”
I rang the doorbell and KC answered. Even here, in the face of what must have been a genuinely shocking event, her reaction had a theatricality about it. She stared and then opened her mouth and then staggered back several steps into her living room. Burt Roth went first.
“It’s okay, KC,” he said. “Everything is okay.”
Her eyes were wide and she made small noises which were not quite crying. It was as if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs to actually cry. I moved Vincent in ahead of me and Hawk followed us and closed the front door and folded his arms and leaned on it. Talk about theatrical.
