TWENTY-SEVEN
IT WAS A month or so after I had failed Valerie Hatch so miserably. I was sitting in my office reading a book by Jonathan Lear about Freud and other things, when Dolly Hartman came into my office like an old sweet song and sat down in a client chair and crossed her spectacular legs.
'Do you remember me?' she said.
'Yes, I do. How are you, Ms. Hartman?'
'Please call me Dolly.'
She was wearing a print summer dress and white high heels and no stockings. Her legs were the regulation horse-country tan. She was iridescent with cool sexuality that made me want to run around the desk and ask to die in her arms.
'You're looking well,' I said. It was a weak substitute but it preserved my dignity.
'Thank you,' she said. 'Is that a good book?'
'I don't know,' I said. 'I don't understand it.'
'Oh, I bet you do.'
'Just the easy parts,' I said.
We smiled at each other.
'What brings you to Boston?' I said, listening to my voice, hoping it wasn't hoarse.
'I wanted to see you,' she said, and shifted a little in her chair and crossed her legs the other way. Which displayed a fair amount of thigh. I observed closely. You never knew when a clue might present itself.
She smiled. I cleared my throat.
'How are things in Lamarr?' I said.
Spenser, conversationalist par excellence.
'That's why I wanted to see you,' she said. 'Things are hideous in Lamarr.'
I decompressed a little. She wasn't just there to flash her thighs at me. Not that I don't like thighs. Had that been her purpose, she'd have been welcome. But because she was there with a problem, I could start acting like it was a business call, which would dilute my impulse to bugle like a moose.
'Tell me about it,' I said.
'There's something very wrong at Three Fillies,' Dolly said.
'Like what?'
'Well, neither my son nor I have any access.'
'Access?'
'We're not allowed in,' she said. 'Not the stables. Not the house. Nowhere.'
'What happens if you go and ask to be let in?' I said.
'The security guards prevent us.'
'At the house too?'
'Yes.'
'Security South?' I said.
'Yes.'
'Any explanation?'
'No. Simply that they have their orders.'
'Have you called Penny?'
'She won't take my calls.'
'Stonie? SueSue?'
'They don't answer or return my calls.'
'There any progress on Walter's murder?' I said.
'None.'
'Any more horses?'
'No.'
'You talk to Becker about this?'
'The sheriff?'
'Un-huh.'
'I can't discuss this sort of thing with some policeman.'
'Oh.'
