'She's older than my mother. I think she went first.'
'She stay in school?'
'I don't know.'
'Why did Leon and your mother come to Boston?'
'I don't know.'
'How'd you get here?'
'We drove. Leon and Mom and me.'
'Besides Bunny,' I said, 'did you meet anyone here?'
'We stayed with my aunt; there were people coming and going.'
'What can you tell me about them?' I said.
She stared at me with her lips tight and began to cry.
I looked at Hawk. He had his head back, examining the ceiling.
'I know it's hard,' I said. 'But I don't know how else to get information.'
'Why are you so awful?' she said.
'Must be a gift,' I said.
She stood suddenly and left the room without another word. Hawk continued his examination of the ceiling.
'Sure do know how to question a client,' he said.
I nodded slowly, looking at the open door through which my client had departed.
'Master detective,' I said.
33
We drove up Cambridge Street to Government Center. Hawk said he would stay with the car while I talked with Epstein.
'You both have an interest in crime,' I said.
'Our perspectives differ,' Hawk said. Epstein stood when I came into his office, but he didn't come around the desk to shake hands. Warm, but not effusive.
'Your retired agent is connected to a mobster named Sonny Karnofsky.'
'Malone?'
'Yep. You familiar with Sonny?'
'I know the name,' Epstein said. 'You got a story?'
I told him about the ambush up at Bow Lake. While he listened, he put his elbows on the desk with his hands tented and the index fingers resting against his chin. When I finished, he sat silently, tapping the tips of his fingers together softly. I waited. After a time, he took in a deep breath.
'This sucks,' he said.
'Think how I feel.'
'Can you identify any of the people who tried to shoot you?'
'No.'
'You saw them.'
'At a distance,' I said. 'And briefly.'
'Not even a possible?' Epstein said.
'Sorry,' I said. 'I was distracted by my attempts to flee.'
Epstein nodded. I saw no sign of sympathy. 'So what, exactly, am I supposed to do about this?' he said.
'If I knew what you were supposed to do,' I said, 'I might know what I was supposed to do. In the meantime maybe we can take solace in one another.'
'Misery loves company,' Epstein said.
'Madly,' I said.
Epstein leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He seemed to be admiring the gloss on his black wingtips.
'What's frustrating is that we know so much and can prove so little,' Epstein said.
'We could propound a theory,' I said.
Epstein, his feet still up on his desk, put his hands behind his head and recrossed his ankles.
'Go ahead,' he said. 'Pro-fucking-pound.'
