I drank a lot of bad coffee. The night watch came on. I was hungry. When I finally finished, it was dark outside. I closed the envelope and put it on the empty desk and leaned my head back against the chair and closed my eyes and took in some long, quiet breaths.
Where was the FBI intelligence report?
4
Quirk was still in his office, his jacket hung on a hanger on the back of his door. His feet were on the desk, his tie was loosened, his shirt cuffs rolled. He was looking at a large bulletin board across the small room, where a number of crime scene photographs were posted.
'You still here?' he said.
'You ever read this case file?' I said.
'Yes.'
He kept staring at the photographs.
'Anything bother you in there?'
'Like what?'
'Like the FBI intelligence report.'
Back Story 'Ah,' Quirk said, still scanning the pictures. 'You spotted that, too.'
'Any thoughts?' I said.
'Nope.'
'You ever chase it down?'
'I never saw the case file until I got to be Homicide Commander. By then the case was cold. Command staff don't much like it when the Homicide Commander, the new Homicide Commander, starts up with the Feds over a cold, cold case we never solved.'
'Politics affects police work?' I said.
'Shocking, isn't it. How was it when you were a cop?'
'Politics affected police work,' I said.
'How disappointing,' Quirk said.
'Lead investigator was a guy named Bennati,' I said. 'He still around?'
'Retired,' Quirk said. 'Lives up on the North Shore now.'
I looked at Quirk. He was scanning the crime scene photos again.
'That's why you offered me the case files,' I said.
'Spirit of cooperation,' Quirk said.
'That FBI reference bothered you, too, but it didn't seem like a good idea to pursue it. But you don't forget anything. So when I finally came along. '
Quirk continued to study the photos.
'I'm supposed to be an executive now,' Quirk said. 'Manage the division. Let the detectives do most of the hands-on stuff. But I like to stay late, couple nights a week, and look at the crime scene coverage while it's quiet, and see what I can see.'
I nodded.
'Woman and two children killed in this one,' Quirk said, nodding at the pictures. 'Woman was raped first.'
'I'll call you tomorrow,' I said. 'Get Bennati's address.'
'Call Belson,' Quirk said. 'He'll get it for you.'
5
Mario Bennati lived in Gloucester in a small, gray-shingled house with a deck where you could sit and drink beer and look at the Annisquam River. He and I were sitting there, doing that, in the late afternoon. With us was a large friendly German shepherd named Grover.
'Wife died four years ago,' Bennati said. 'Daughter comes up from Stoughton usually once or twice a week, vacuums, dusts. ' He shrugged. 'Mostly it's me and Grover. I can cook okay and do my laundry.'
We were drinking Miller High Life from the clear glass bottles.
'I don't smoke no more,' he said, looking at the boats moving toward the harbor across the wide water below us. 'Ain't got laid since she died.' He drank some of the Miller High Life with an economy of motion that suggested long practice. 'We done fine, 'fore she got sick.' Grover put his head on Bennati's thigh and looked at him. 'Watch this,' Bennati said. He tilted the bottle of beer carefully and Grover drank a little. 'Right from the bottle,' Bennati said. 'Huh?'
'Cool,' I said.
'Don't let him drink much,' Bennati said. 'Gets drunk real easy.'
I patted Grover on the backside. His tail wagged, but he kept his head on Bennati's lap. 'I'm looking into an old
