Robert B. Parker’s Blood Feud

Sixty-Two

Richie and I went back to River Street Place. I changed into a black T-shirt and one of my pairs of preferred white jeans. I knew it was getting a little late in the year for white jeans, but I looked damn good in them. And I knew that Richie thought I looked damn good in them.

When I came down the stairs, Rosie was next to him on the couch. There were two glasses of red wine on the table in front of them. I knew he noticed the jeans. He always did. And I always noticed him noticing.

We both drank some wine.

“You honestly believe he’s not dead already?” Richie said.

“We’re getting to the end of foreplay,” I said. “But I honestly think it’s still foreplay.”

“If he is dead,” Richie said, “Felix will take an army down to Providence and kill them all and let God sort things out.”

“I know,” I said. “But you have to keep him under control for the time being. Let me do my job.”

“Our job,” Richie said.

We drank more wine.

“I feel as if we should be doing something right now,” he said.

“Tomorrow,” I said.

“First thing,” he said.

I nodded.

“You have a plan,” he said, staring at me.

I nodded again. Rosie rolled over and let Richie rub her belly.

“Dr. Silverman says that in the shooter’s mind, everything makes perfect sense,” I said.

“So how do we find where he’s taken him?” Richie said.

“The only thing that makes sense is that it’s another property of Antonioni’s,” I said.

“How do we find out which one?” Richie said.

I smiled at him.

“Forget about your uncle,” I said. “How about if we take Albert?”