He waited, then nodded and wrote down a name on the pad of yellow lined paper on his desk.
“Thanks, George,” he said. “No, nothing. Just sorting the case out for myself. Sure, George. Mum’s the word. Thanks.”
He looked at me.
“That’s the motto of our department. Lot of departments have like ‘to protect and serve’? We have ‘Mum’s the word.’ ”
He ripped the sheet of paper off the pad and handed it to me.
“Morton Lloyd,” he said. “In Boston.”
I folded it and put it in my pocket.
“So the university decided to do nothing about Prince,” I said.
“No, they decided to keep it quiet,” Crosby said. “That’s doing something.”
“In loco parentis,” I said.
Crosby nodded.
“Ain’t it something,” he said.
“Can you do me a favor?” I said.
“Long as mum’s the word,” Crosby said.
I smiled.
“Prince was teaching a seminar called ‘Low-Country Realists’ when he was killed,” I said. “A teaching assistant is finishing it up. Class meets from two to five on Tuesdays.”
“You want to sign up for it?” Crosby said.
“I want a list of the students,” I said.
“Sure,” he said. “You got a fax?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m a high-tech sleuth.”
I gave him my card.
“I’ll fax it to you this afternoon,” Crosby said. “Why do you want it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Just blundering around in the brush here, see what I kick up.”
Crosby grinned.
“That’s called police work,” he said.
14
I called Rita Fiore in the morning. Rita had once been a Norfolk County prosecutor. Now she was a litigator at Cone, Oakes.
“Tell me about a lawyer named Morton Lloyd,” I said.
“Mort the Tort,” she said. “Got his own firm, Lloyd and Leiter, offices downtown, Milk Street, maybe. What are you looking for.”
“Wish I knew,” I said. “What should I know about him?”
“He’s smart. He’s tough. I don’t think he tests out so good on ethics, but if I were going to sue somebody, Mort would be my guy. You want to sue somebody?”
“Nope. I’m just nosing around,” I said.
“I hear you’re involved in that art heist and murder,” Rita said.
“Who says?”
“I’m sort of friendly with Kate Quaggliosi,” Rita said.
“Isn’t she a blabbermouth,” I said.
“What are friends for?” Rita said. “She’s a pretty smart cupcake.”
“Smart as you?” I said.
“Of course not,” Rita said. “Not as hot, either.”
“Who is?” I said.
“How would you know,” Rita said.
“I am a skilled observer,” I said.
“You’re not ready to cheat on Susan, are you?” Rita said.
“When I am, you’ll be the first to know,” I said.
“How encouraging,” Rita said.
