Early Autumn

CHAPTER 32

Mel Giacomin’s office was on a side street just off Reading Square. It was a private home that had been remodeled as an office. The secretarial pool sat out front in a big open room, and Mel and a couple of other men had private offices down the hall. Past Mel’s office was the kitchen, which had been left intact, and there were cups and a box of doughnuts and instant coffee and Cremora on the kitchen table. Mel was in there drinking coffee when I showed up.

”What the hell do you want?“ he said.

”Clever repartee,“ I said.

”What?“

”I want to talk about fire insurance,“ I said.

”I don’t want to sell you any.“

”It’s about fire insurance you’ve already sold, like to Elaine Brooks.“

Mel looked at me. He opened his mouth and closed it. ”I didn’t…“ he started. ”I…“ A woman with red hair in a frizz came into the kitchen. She wore a lime-green sweater and a pair of white pants that had been tight when she was ten pounds lighter.

”Let’s talk in your office,“ I said.

Giacomin nodded and I followed him next door. We went in. He shut the door.

”What do you want?“ he said when he got behind his desk. He was wearing a tan glen plaid three-piece suit and a blue-figured tie and a white shirt with light tan-and-blue double stripes in it. The vest gapped two inches at the waist, revealing belt buckle and shirt.

”I’ll make it short,“ I said. ”I know the arson scam. And I can prove it.“

”What are you talking about?“

I took out the copy of my arson file memo and put it on his desk.

”Read this,“ I said.

He read it over quickly. I noticed that his lips moved very slightly as he read. Then his lips stopped. He was through reading it, but he kept staring down at the paper. Finally, without looking up, he said, ”So?“

”So I got you,“ I said.

He kept staring at the paper. ”You tell the cops?“

”Not yet.“

”You tell anybody?“

”Don’t even think about that,“ I said. ”You don’t have a chance against me, and even if you did, note that you’re looking at a copy.“

”You want a piece of the action?“

I grinned, ”Now you are catching on.“

”How much?“

”It’ll vary.“

He looked up. ”What do you mean?“

”It means I want two things. I want you to stay away from your kid, and I want you to pay for his support, his schooling, whatever he needs.“

”Stay away?“

”Relinquish, leave alone, get off the back of, fill in your own phrase. I want him free of you.“

”And send him money?“

”Yes.“

”That’s all?“

”Yes.“

”Nothing for you?“

”No.“

”How much I gotta send him?“

”Tuition, room, board, expenses.“

”How much will that be?“

”We’ll let you know.“

”I mean I’m not made of money, you know?“

I stood up and leaned over the desk. ”Listen to me, Rat Shit, you’re talking like you could bargain. You can’t. You do what I say or you take a big fall. Two people died in one of those fires. Homicide in the commission of a felony is murder one“

”I didn’t…“

I hit the desk with the palm of my hand and leaned a little closer so my face was about three inches from his. ”Don’t bullshit, you keep saying didn’t to me and you’ll be down to Walpole doing the jailhouse rock for the rest of your goddamned life. Don’t didn’t me, creep.“ Not bad, me and Kirk Douglas. I wondered if the palm slamming was overacting.

It wasn’t. He folded like a camp chair. ”Okay, okay. Sure. I’ll go for it. It’s a good deal.“

”You bet your ass it’s a good deal,“ I said. ”And if you don’t stick to your end of it, you’ll boogie on down to Walpole faster than you can say first degree murder. And, I may stick my thumb in your eye before you leave.“

”Okay,“ he said. ”Okay. How much you want to start?“

”I’ll bill you,“ I said. ”And if you think when I leave you can call Harry Cotton and have me taken away, you are going to be disappointed.“

”I wasn’t thinking that,“ Giacomin said.

”Bills are due upon receipt,“ I said.

”Yeah, sure. On receipt.“

I straightened up and turned and walked out the door. I closed it behind me. I waited about thirty seconds then I opened it again. Giacomin was on the phone. When I looked in he hung up suddenly.

I nodded. ”Rat shit like you is predictable,“ I said. I leveled a forefinger at him. ”Don’t mess with this, Melvin. Maybe it won’t be Walpole. Capital punishment is regaining favor.“

He sat and looked at me and said nothing. I left the door open this time and walked away without looking back.

I drove into Boston. Disco Stephen lived in Charles River Park and I still had Patty Giacomin to talk with. I parked on Blossom Street and walked down.

Patty Giacomin let me in. Stephen was there too in a faded Levi’s shirt and jeans, and artfully broken-in over-the-ankle moccasins with big leather stitching. There was a leather thong tight around his neck. He was sipping from an enormous brandy snifter.

”What do you want?“ she said. She was carrying a snifter twin to Stephen’s.

”Christ, it must run in the family,“ I said.

”What?“

”Clever repartee.“

”Well, what do you want?“

”We need to talk alone.“

”I have no secrets from Stephen.“

”I bet you do,“ I said. ”I bet you don’t share too many of your adventures in the New York Hilton with Old Disco.“

Her head lifted a little. ”I beg your pardon?“ she said.

”Can we speak privately for about five minutes?“

She paused for a long time then she said, ”Certainly, if you insist. Stephen? Could you?“

”Certainly,“ he said. ”I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.“

I let that pass.

When he was gone, she walked over to the window and looked down at the river. I walked with her. When we were as far as we could get from where Stephen could hear, she said softly, ”You rotten bastard, what are you doing to me?“

”I’m telling you I know about how you used to go down to the New York Hilton once a month and screw whatever came by.“

”You rotten prick,“ she said softly.

”Oh,“ I said. ”You’ve found out.“

She didn’t speak. Her face was very red. She drank some brandy.

I said, ”I’ve made a deal with your husband on whom I also have the goods. He stays away from Paul and pays his bills, and I keep my mouth shut. I’m offering you an even better deal. You stay away from him and I keep my mouth shut. You don’t even have to pay any money.“

”What goods have you got on him?“

”Zero in on the important stuff, babe.“

”Well, what?“

”That’s not your problem. Your problem is whether you do what I ask or I start blabbing to the like of Disco Darling down the hall.“

”Don’t call him that. His name is Stephen,“ she said.

”Will you stay away from the kid?“

”My own son?“

”That’s him, you’ve got the right one. Will you?

“What do you mean, stay away?”

“I mean let him go away to school, let him spend holidays with me, or where he wants to, make no attempt to claim custody or make him live with you or your husband.”

“My God, just so you won’t tell about one indiscretion?”

“Monthly indiscretions-random, promiscuous. Actually, probably neurotic. If I were you, I’d get some help. Also, if you don’t do what I say, you get not another penny from your husband, alimony, nothing.”

“How can you…”

“Call him,” I said. “See what he says.”

She looked at the phone.

“So there you’ll be,” I said. “Alone and broke. Disco Steve will roll you like a buck’s worth of nickels if he thinks you’re messy.”

“It’s not neurotic,” she said. “If a man did it, you’d say it was normal.”

“I wouldn’t, but that doesn’t matter to me. I want that kid out of the middle and I’ll do what needs to be done to get him out. You go along or you’re broke and abandoned like they say in the soap operas.”

She looked down the hall where Stephen had disappeared. She looked at the phone. She looked down at the river. And she nodded her head.

“Do I hear a yes?” I said.

She nodded again.

“I want to hear it,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, staring at the river.

“Okay,” I said. “You and Stephen can go back to watching his jeans fade.”

I started for the door. “Spenser?”

“Yeah?”

“What did Mel do?”

I shook my head and went out and closed the door.