Painted Ladies

“How do you know?”

“Shrink, woman, and comely Jewess,” Susan said.

“Oh,” I said. “That’s how.”

64

Bright and early, while the coffee was brewing in my office pot, I called Crosby at Walford.

“Can you see if you can locate Missy Minor?” I said.

“You want me to hold her?”

“I don’t even want her to know you located her. Just let me know.”

“I’ll be surreptitious,” he said.

“You don’t sound like a cop,” I said. “You got to stop hanging around the faculty lounge.”

“Oh, okay,” Crosby said. “I’ll be fucking surreptitious.”

“Better,” I said.

I hung up and dialed Shawmut Insurance and asked for Winifred Minor. She was not in today. I asked if she was ill. That information was not available. Of course it wasn’t. I hung up and checked the coffee. It was ready, so I poured some and added milk and sugar and sat down with it. I was on my second cup when Crosby called back.

“She don’t answer the bell at her dorm,” he said when I picked up the phone. “And she isn’t at the gym or anywhere like that.”

“And what were you going to say if she did answer the door?” I said.

“I told my guy to say, ‘There’s been a burglary in one of the dorms and we’re just warning all the members of the Walford community.’”

“Slick,” I said. “Might she be in class?”

“Only class today is twelve to three,” he said. “We’ll check when the time comes, let you know.”

“You know any of her friends?” I said.

“Don’t know any,” Crosby said. “Can find out. But I’d have to start asking around, and that’s not surreptitious.”

“True,” I said.

“Something cooking?” he said.

“If only I knew,” I said.

“Happy to help,” he said. “If I can. It’s almost like police work.”

“Thanks, Crosby,” I said.

“No problem, pal.”

“Anyone ever call you Bing?”

“No,” he said.

After we hung up, I sat and drank coffee and thought. Several doughnuts would have helped that process, but Susan had convinced me they were not nourishing, and I was trying to be loyal to her. Love is not always a simple thing.

He was there. I was convinced of that. What I was thinking about was what to do about it. I didn’t know if he was there holding them hostage, or if he was there being clasped to the bosom of his family. I didn’t want the cops, at least until I knew what the arrangement was. Once the cops are in, you no longer control anything. I wanted to keep Winifred and Missy out of it, if I could.

I finished my coffee and stood up.

Time to reconnoiter.

65

Winifred Minor’s address was one of the palisade of condos that had gone up in the old navy yard after the navy moved mostly out. There was still a small presence fenced off at the city square end of the yard, but the rest was residential. There were some small shops to service the residents, but most of the effort and money had been expended on the waterfront, where you could look out your window at harbor traffic, and across the harbor at Boston.

Winifred lived in a gray clapboard town house at the end of a long corridor of gray clapboard town houses, all of which were elevated a level to permit parking underneath. This meant climbing a significant stairway and walking along a deck in front of the town houses until you found the number you wanted.

On the way over from my office I had carefully thought out the options for gaining entry, once I had scoped the place out a little. I reviewed my options as I climbed the stairs and moved down the deck. Winifred was located three from the water end of the row. The option I chose was breathtaking in its simplicity.

I rang the bell.

In an appropriate amount of time, Winifred opened the door. She opened it only a little, enough to see out. And