Nellies doesnt stay in business by telling secrets, Race said.
How about I pretended I was in your program? I said. I shot out my right hip and put my fist on it.
Race said, They could tell.
How could they tell?
They could tell, honey.
Im not even sure this guy was gay, I said.
And youre trying to decide?
Im not trying to out him. Hes been murdered.
Race nodded. Ill tell you what, darlin. You give me the picture. Ill find out for you.
I gave him the picture.
Isnt there some saying about set a queer to catch a queer? Race said.
I think so, I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Frank Belson, with a fresh shave and his suit pressed, came into my office carrying two cups of coffee. He put one on my desk and sat down in a client chair and took a sip from the other one.
Know a broad named Amy Peters? he said.
Yes.
Tell me about her.
Why?
Because Im a cop and Im asking you, Belson said.
Oh, I said. Thats why.
Belson waited. I took the lid off the coffee and drank some. Belson was homicide and Amy Peters had been scared. There was a small sinking feeling in my stomach.
She was until recently the vice president for public relations at the Pequod Savings and Loan which is headquartered in Cambridge.
Why until recently?
She got fired.
For?
Talking to me.
About what?
About a case I was on.
Nathan Smith, Belson said.
Yes.
You doing anything for her?
No.
Howd you know she was fired?
She came and told me.
Why you? Belson said.
Why not me, I said. Whats up, Frank?
Shes dead, Belson said.
The sinking feeling bottomed. Belson was looking at me carefully.
We found your card in her purse, he said. Nice-looking card.
Thanks. Howd she die?
Bullet in the head. Looks self-inflicted.
Her gun?
Unregistered. Were chasing the serial number.
She didnt seem like somebody whod have a gun, I said.
You knew her?
Not really. Just talked with her a couple of times.
About Nathan Smith?
Yes.
Anything else?
Shed been fired. She seemed a little frightened of the guy who fired her.
Marvin Conroy?
No grass growing under your feet, I said.
Belson ignored me.
She want you to protect her?
Not really. Just consolation, I think. I gave her my card.
And wrote Hawks name and phone on the back, Belson said.
Yes. I thought she might feel better if she had somebody to call.
I guess she didnt, Belson said.
No.
My office felt stuffy to me. I got up and opened my window a couple of inches to let the city air in. I looked out at Berkeley Street for a moment, looking at the traffic waiting for the light to change on Boylston.
She leave a note? I said.
Yes. Said she was despondent over being fired.
Authentic?
Hard to say. She left it on the computer.
Technology sucks, I said.
Below me the light changed and the traffic moved across Boylston Street toward the river.
Thing bothers me, Belson said.
I turned away from the window and sat down with my back to the air drifting in through the open window. I waited.
Found a card for a lawyer in there in her purse where we found yours.
I waited.
Ran that down before I came here. Woman lawyer. Says that Amy Peters was planning to sue Pequod for sexual discrimination for firing her.
Which seems strange, I said, if she was also planning to kill herself.
Suicides hard to figure, Belson said. Women dont usually do it with a gun.
Whats the lawyers name?
Margaret Mills. Firm is Mills and DAmbrosio. You planning
to help us on this?
Bothers me a little.
She came to you scared and you sent her away and she ends up dead, Belson said.
Something like that.
Would bother me, too, Belson said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I was in a booth in a donut shop talking to a gray-haired guy with a good-sized belly and a big mustache who had been for the last thirty years the youth service officer for the town of Franklin. His name was Pryor.
His real name was Peter Isaacs, Pryor said. Kids called him Peter Ike and it eventually became Pike.
You remember him well?
Oh yeah, Pryor said. Kid was a pain in the ass.
He took a paper napkin from the dispenser and wiped powdered sugar from his mustache.
Wild-spirited?
Mean-spirited. Nasty little bastard. Did a lot of dope.
He still around?
Yeah.
How about Tammy Wagner?
She was his girlfriend, Pryor said. Pikes. I dont know what happened to her.
Joey Bucci?
Bucci Yeah, sort of a faggy little kid, used to get bullied a lot. Hung with the burnouts because no one else would hang with him.
You know where he is now?
Pryor shook his head.
No idea, he said. He aint around town.
Where do I find Pike?
Hes still here, Pryor said. Works down the bowling alley. Sweeps up, cleans the rest rooms.
Nice career choice, I said.
Better than jail, Pryor said.
Anything else you can tell me about Mary Toricelli?
No. Kind of a loser kid. The only reason I remember her is that she hung out with assholes like Isaacs and Levesque.
You never got her for anything?
No. She was never into much. Just sort of dragged around after the hot shots. Whatd she do, got a fast operator like you down here asking about her.