going to have to investigate his story, and Allan will be drawn in. There’ll be calls, paperwork. I hope you’ve prepared him for the worst. His name is about to become lower than dirt in Pastor’s Bay.’
‘It wasn’t just the locals I was concerned about.’
Engel’s SUV pulled up alongside us. The driver looked quizzically at Engel, who started to move. I put a hand up to stop him.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he said.
‘My question exactly.’
‘You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not psychic, so I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now put your hand down or I’ll have you arrested.’
‘No, you won’t. You’ve taken the opportunity presented by a young girl’s disappearance to lure a dangerous man north in the hope that you can corner him and persuade him to turn federal witness. You have only a passing interest in the safety of Anna Kore, or of anyone else. All that matters to you is getting Tommy Morris in a room and cutting a deal, and you’ll let him run loose until then.’
‘Mr. Parker, you have no idea what you’re talking about.’
He pushed my hand away. Simultaneously, his cell phone began to ring, along with the cell phone of the agent in the car. Engel answered the call as he was getting into the vehicle, and his usually impassive features flooded with surprise. All I heard were the words ‘He what?’ as the door closed and the SUV sped away.
I checked my phone. There was an e-mail from the Yahoo address. It consisted solely of a smiley icon. The job at Allan’s house had been done. I cleared the screen just as Gordon Walsh came up beside me and tapped me hard on the shoulder. Soames lurked behind him, his mouth set in a thin, unimpressed line like that of a Sunday-school teacher faced with the town drunk.
‘You and I are going to have a talk later, clear?’ said Walsh.
‘Clear. I’ll even pay for the drinks. Just as long as you don’t bring your friend along. I don’t think he’s a fun guy.’
Soames scowled at me. Then again, he scowled at everyone. It was less a mode of intimidation than an ongoing disability. Before either of them could say anything else, a monster truck pulled into the lot, dwarfing every other vehicle parked nearby. A massive bass was pumping so many decibels that the ground vibrated. Since the truck was too big to fit into any of the available spaces, the driver just parked it facing the building and killed the engine.
The driver’s and passenger’s doors opened, and virtually identical men who appeared to have been constructed entirely from flesh-colored cinder blocks stepped from the truck and dropped awkwardly to the ground. They had dressed for maximum shock and awe: blue polyester big-man pants, dark-blue sport shirts so tight they’d have to be cut out of them later, and matching gold neck chains that could have anchored a ship. Even Soames stopped scowling for a moment as his bottom jaw dropped. Tony and Paulie Fulci in all their heavily medicated glory were indeed a sight to behold. Walsh, by contrast, seemed more amused than impressed.
‘It’s the Fabulous Unfurry Freak Brothers,’ he said. ‘What happened, the circus leave town without you?’
‘Detective Walsh,’ said Paulie, assuming an air of wounded dignity. ‘It’s very nice to make your acquaintance again.’
Tony and Paulie knew most of the senior cops in the state, either personally or by reputation. The knowledge was reciprocated, and not just in this state either.
‘What about you, Tony?’ said Walsh. ‘You happy to see me again?’
‘No,’ said Tony, who lacked his brother’s finely honed diplomatic skills.
Walsh turned to me. ‘Let me guess: These knuckleheads are working for you.’
‘Knuckleheads Inc., that’s us,’ I said.
‘Well, keep them on their leash, and don’t let them break anything – furniture, buildings, people. They’re also convicted felons, so if I hear that they’re carrying even a water pistol I’ll put them behind bars.’
‘What about a bow?’ said Paulie.
‘Are you trying to be funny?’
‘No, we got bows. For hunting. We got licenses too.’
Tony nodded solemnly in agreement. ‘We got them with us.’
‘The licenses or the bows?’ asked Walsh, drawn in despite himself.
‘Both,’ confirmed Tony. ‘And arrows.’
Walsh regarded them both carefully. Where the Fulcis were concerned, it often wasn’t entirely clear when they were joking. Louis had once commented that he wasn’t sure if they were deadpan or brain-dead.
‘Jesus,’ said Walsh. ‘Bows and arrows. Well, remember: The sharp end points
He and Soames returned to their car. The Fulcis watched them go.
‘I lied,’ said Paulie. ‘It wasn’t nice to make his acquaintance again.’
‘Same,’ said Tony. ‘Except without the lying.’
27
Randall Haight didn’t respond well to the news that Anna Kore’s uncle was a Boston mobster who was being hunted by his own people and the FBI, and who would almost certainly attempt to involve himself in the search for his missing niece. He knew that he was at risk from Tommy Morris if word got out about his past. It wouldn’t matter to Morris that Haight had been questioned and effectively cleared by the police of any involvement in his niece’s disappearance. He was a child killer, and Morris would instinctively assume that he knew more than he had revealed.
Briefly, Haight fired Aimee and, by extension, me. He reconsidered when he realized that, if he was in trouble now, he’d be in more trouble without us. I also introduced him to the Fulcis, which simultaneously reassured and unsettled him, in the same way the Duke of Wellington was said to have noted of his soldiers that, while he was uncertain of their possible effect on the enemy, by God, they frightened him. Then again, Wellington had also called his own men ‘the scum of the earth’, which the Fulcis were not. They had their own code of honor, particularly when it came to women. Insults centering on mothers did not sit well with the Fulcis. I was pretty sure that there were other aspects of behavior about which they might have set concepts of honor, but I couldn’t think of any offhand.
Haight was reluctant to have the Fulcis stay at his home unless it became absolutely necessary, and it was true that the sight of their monster truck parked on his property might attract attention to him. In addition, it was unclear what the result of his discussions with the police might be. I was sure that Walsh and Allan would let us know if there was any indication that Haight’s story was about to become public knowledge, and it was in their interests as much as ours to keep it quiet. The last thing they needed was misguided media speculation about a possible suspect, which would further strain their manpower. Nevertheless, I would have preferred it if Haight had acceded to our request to let the Fulcis bed down in his house, but the more we pressed him, the less willing he was to consider the possibility. The concession we reached was that the Fulcis would become his shadows if we learned that the facts of Haight’s past could no longer remain hidden. Depending upon the situation, they could either plant themselves on Haight’s property like the trunks of trees or they could move him to safety. I had already made arrangements for him to be quietly placed at the Colony near Sebago Lake if necessary. The Colony was a retreat house for troubled men, often those suffering from addiction or other social difficulties. The company might not be to Haight’s taste, but those involved in the Colony’s running would make no judgment upon him, and they were very, very discreet.
After a little more sulking, and some calming words from Aimee and me, Haight returned to Pastor’s Bay. I gave him a half hour start, then followed him north.
Angel and Louis had checked into an inn called the Blithe Spirit, about four miles from Pastor’s Bay. It was run by an elderly couple named the Harveys, whose first question to them was ‘Are you gay?’
‘Would that be a problem?’ said Louis.
‘Oh no,’ said Mrs. Harvey, who was bent almost double by arthritis but moved surprisingly fast, like a hare with a minor disability. ‘We like gay people. They’re very tidy.’
