I spread my hands. “Hey,” I said. “No problem. I didn’t know you guys were serious.”
“That’s better,” the fat guy said.
I kicked him in the crotch. While he was sinking to his knees, I swung around and popped Curly Bo with a right hook, and broke his nose. Bo was game. With the blood running down his chin he caught me with an overhand right on the side of the head. I hit him with a left hook and a right hook, and he went down. Fatso, on his knees and in pain, had fumbled a gun out. I kicked it out of his hand and heard it skitter away under one of the cars.
“You guys been roughing up civilians too long,” I said. “Whatever you had to start with, you’ve lost.”
“Fuck you,” Fatso said.
Curly Bo was on his hands and knees, his head lolling, as he tried to clear the buzz from his brain.
“Who is it wants to know what I’m doing?” I said.
“Fuck you,” Fatso said.
“Soldiers Field Development, perhaps?”
“Fuck you,” Fatso said.
“Maybe I could beat it out of you,” I said.
“Maybe you couldn’t,” Fatso said.
I stood for a minute and thought about it.
“You’re right,” I said. “Maybe I couldn’t.”
I went past them and got in my car and drove away. In the rearview mirror I could see them still on the ground as I turned onto the down ramp and headed out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rita had sandwiches and coffee sent in, and we ate lunch together at a cherry-wood conference table in her office. From where I sat I could look through Rita’s big window and along the south shore to the narrow arch of land on which Hull dangled into the Atlantic.
“As I recall,” I said, “when you were working in Norfolk County, you had an office with one wooden chair.”
“And a view of my file cabinet,” Rita said.
“And a lot of young male ADA’S fresh out of law school hanging around the door with a clear interest in your body.”
Rita smiled, and said, “Those were the days, my friend.”
She took a small bite of her tuna-fish sandwich and chewed it in a ladylike manner, and swallowed gracefully.
“You ever sleep with a redhead?” she said.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Lost count, have we?”
I had a ham and cheese sandwich on light rye. I ate some.
“Come to think of it,” Rita said, “so have I.”
I drank some coffee. “Good for us,” I said.
“Yeah,” Rita said. “Better than being able to remember the only one, in detail.”
“There’s only been one for a while,” I said.
“I’m painfully aware of that,” Rita said.
“Moving on,” I said. “What did you find out about Soldiers Field Development?”
“Not a hell of a lot,” Rita said. “They do real estate development-office buildings, motels, malls, stuff like that. Nathan Smith was on the board of directors.”
“Oh ha!”
“Oh ha? What the hell is Oh ha?”
“Combination of oh ho and ah ha,” I said. “I believe in variety.”
“Me too,” Rita said. “Do you say oh ha when you encounter a clue?”
“Or ah ha! Or oh ho! Depends on how many clues I have to react to.”
“Well, it’s not been much of a problem in this case,” Rita said. “Why are you so interested in Soldiers Field Development?”
“There’s been people following me since I took this case,” I said. “They’re connected to Soldiers Field Development.”
“And now Nathan Smith turns up on the board,” Rita said.
“Yes.”
Rita smiled.
“Oh ha!” she said. “So how does this help my client?”
