Robert B. Parker’s Blood Feud

Fifty-Three

The next morning I met Spike at Spike’s for coffee. He was no longer wearing his sling.

“Are you better?” I said.

“No,” he said. “But the sling kept getting in the way.”

“Of what?”

“Things,” he said, winking at me.

“Things plural?” I said.

“Don’t be coarse,” he said.

He had made the coffee. It was dark and strong and delicious. I described it to him in those words. “Like me,” he said.

I took out the photograph of Maria Cataldo and the boy. I placed it on the table in front of him, next to one of Richie I had found in a scrapbook I began to keep after we had gotten married. Felix Burke had helped me get photographs from Richie’s childhood and teenage years and college.

“They could be twins,” Spike said.

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“You think the little boy in the picture is Desmond’s,” he said.

He made no attempt to make it sound like a question.

“I have no proof,” I said. “But, yeah, let’s say the idea is trending.”

Spike was staring down at the two photographs.

“You do this with Richie yet?” he said.

“No,” I said. “But he’s too smart not to be thinking the same thing.”

“You think if she was pregnant with Desmond’s child she would have told him?” Spike said.

“If she did, and Desmond has known about this kid all along, we’ve established who our greatest living actor is,” I said.

Spike sipped some coffee and remarked that, damn, I was right, he did make a damned fine cup of coffee.

“So Richie may have a half-brother,” he said.

“That is what I am positing, yes,” I said.

Spike said, “And you think this boy, all grown up, has now come out of the past to avenge his mother’s honor, like, oh, shit, I can’t believe I’m even saying this, some evil twin?”

“I keep wondering if Desmond knew and is lying his ass off,” I said.

“Look,” Spike said. “This is a man who’s made a career out of playing things close to the vest. You told me one time he didn’t actually tell Richie what the real family business was till he was graduating high school.”

“But if Desmond has secretly been in the kid’s life all along,” I said, “then why is the kid coming for him now?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Spike said.

“If this is her son, and Desmond’s son, I need to find him,” I said. “And maybe get the chance to ask him all the questions I’ll never get the chance to ask his mother.”

“Maybe Albert knows and Desmond doesn’t,” Spike said. “About the boy.”

“Or maybe they both know and they’ve both been lying their asses off to me the whole time,” I said.

“Are you suggesting there is no honor among thieves?” Spike said.

“Really?” I said.

Spike shrugged.

“Low-hanging fruit,” he said.