him.”
I fumbled around in my desk drawer and took out the card Prince had given me at our first meeting. It said
“He told me he was a forensic consultant,” I said.
“That’s his home phone,” Healy said.
“Heavens,” I said. “No wonder you made captain. You know if he had an office or anything?”
“None that we can find,” Healy said.
“What about Lawyer Lloyd?” I said.
“Morton Lloyd,” Healy said. “Tort specialist. Works for the museum pro bono.”
“He legit?” I said.
“Far’s we can tell,” Healy said.
“He got an office?”
“Yeah, on Batterymarch,” Healy said. “Lloyd and Leiter.”
“He tell you that?” I said.
“No,” Healy said.
“Everybody is holding their cards right in close to their chest,” I said.
“Yep.”
“Whaddya think that’s about?” I said.
“I think the picture is still out there,” Healy said.
“That’s what I think,” I said.
8
Shawmut Insurance Company was very handy, so when Healy left, I went over there. It was a medium-size brick-and-granite building, built in the time when people seemed to care about how buildings looked. There was an arched entrance on Columbus, and a smaller one on Berkeley. Next to it there was a hotel that used to be Boston police headquarters.
I wanted the full experience, so I went around the corner onto Columbus and went in the granite arched main entrance. Inside was a big old lobby that rose several stories. Opposite the entry was a black iron elevator cage. I asked the security guy at the desk for Winifred Minor and was sent, via the black iron elevator, to the third floor.
The third floor was open and full of desks, except along the Columbus Avenue side, where a series of half- partitioned cubicles marched in a fearful symmetry. The one where Winifred Minor had her desk had a higher partition than those on either side of her. Status! There was one at the far end that not only had a floor-to-ceiling partition but also a secretary outside. Deification. I stuck my head in the opening of Winifred Minor’s cubicle and rapped gently on the outer edge.
“Yes?”
I stepped in.
“My name’s Spenser,” I said. “I believe you talked with Captain Healy on the phone. I’m just stopping by to follow up.”
She looked at me as though she might be going to buy me.
“Spenser,” she said, and wrote in a small notebook that was open in front of her.
I nodded and put a little wattage into my killer smile. She survived it.
“First name?” she said.
I told her. She wrote that down in her little notebook. Then she looked straight at me and spoke. Her voice was very clear, and her speech was precise.
“I have nothing to say.”
“You know,” I said, “I don’t, either. These first meetings are awkward as hell, aren’t they.”
She leaned back a little and folded her arms. She frowned, though it wasn’t an angry frown. She looked good. She had thick black hair that she wore long. She had Tina Fey glasses and was wearing a white shirt and a fitted black tunic with brass buttons. I couldn’t see what she was wearing below that because the desk was in the way. But what showed of her was very well made up, very pulled together, and hot.
“Once we get to know each other,” I said, “we’ll be chattering like a couple of schoolgirls, but the first moments are always hard.”
“Well,” she said in her clear, precise way, “you are not the standard cop.”
I smiled and tilted my head a little in obvious modesty.
“I know,” I said.
She looked at me some more. I dialed my smile up a little higher. She smiled back at me.
“Does this crap usually work for you?” she said.
