“You work for the Norfolk DA when she was there?” I said.
Santoro looked reminiscent. “I did,” he said.
“I’m working for her now,” I said.
“Getting any fringe benefits?” Santoro said.
“Rita and I are friends,” I said with dignity.
“And Rita’s got no enemies,” Santoro said.
“How long you think,” the Franklin cop said.
Belson looked at his watch. “Usually goes quick.”
“Seriously,” Santoro said, “you ever give Rita a little bop?”
“In my case it would be a big bop,” I said. “And it’s not your business.”
“Hey, just killing a little time.”
“Kill it another way,” I said.
Santoro shrugged. We drank our coffee.
After a while, Belson said, “I don’t think it would be such a big bop.”
“I don’t wish to discuss it,” I said.
“I’ll check it with Susan,” Belson said.
“She’s promised not to tell,” I said.
The door to the squad room opened and Quirk stuck his head in.
“Levesque wants to make a statement,” Quirk said.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Levesque’s statement was sort of complete, but the essence of it was that his old friend Mary Toricelli Smith had given him the gun to dispose of, and he had kept it instead.
“Said he’d never had a gun,” Quirk told us on the ride back to Boston. “Said he held on to it because he’d always wanted one and maybe it would come in handy someday.”
“It came in handy for someone,” I said.
“Levesque says he was Mary Toricelli’s boyfriend, before and after she married Smith. Says that Mr. and Mrs. Smith had an open marriage. Smith with boys, her with him, Levesque.”
“We believe his story?”
“Sounded true to me,” Quirk said.
“Too scared to lie?”
“Be my guess,” Quirk said.
“They coulda been in it together,” Belson said.
“Sure.”
“She denies it, it’ll be her word against his.”
“Prints?” I said.
“His,” Quirk said, and smiled. “Hawk’s. Nothing else we can use. Gun’s been handled a lot.”
“Powder residue?”
“Too long ago,” Quirk said.
“Smith had ten million dollars’ life insurance.”
“Coulda killed him for his money,” Belson said. “And when everything died down, she moves the boyfriend in.”
“You had Smith’s money,” Quirk said, “would you move Roy Levesque in?”
“He ain’t my type,” Belson said. “But it seems like he was hers.”
“He say how Mary Toricelli met Nathan Smith?” I said.
“He didn’t say.”
“Might be good to know,” I said.
“I’ll get to it,” Quirk said.
“So where does all the other stuff fit?” I said.
“Like?”
“Like Brinkman the broker, and Amy Peters, and Soldiers Field Development, and Marvin Conroy, and the kid I killed in Southie, and Jack DeRosa and his girlfriend, for instance,” I said.
“You always been picky,” Quirk said.
