Robert B. Parker’s Cheap Shot

31

That evening, I returned to Chestnut Hill with Susan Silverman.

I had to tell Kinjo and Nicole that they’d been conned, and that, in fact, after four days, no one had contacted the family about Akira. He was simply missing.

“Will they talk with me?” Susan said.

“Worth a shot,” I said.

“Did the state police provide their own therapist?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And how did that go?”

“Not well,” I said. “Nicole Heywood unleashed a torrent of expletives.”

“And why will I do better?”

“Besides you being a hot Jewess with a taut, athletic body?”

“Yes.”

“Because, Suze, you’re damn good at this stuff.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I am.”

I had to park nearly a half-mile away because of the news crews and onlookers, sports fanatics and nutcases. Not to mention the probable assortment of Hare Krishnas, Moonies, and those who follow Glenn Beck.

Susan and I hiked up Heath Street, Susan with little effort. I with a little effort. Of course I had been up all night and had to talk some sense into some faux-kidnappers.

The cops all knew me. Even the press who didn’t know me greeted me on sight. Some kid across from the Heywoods had set up a lemonade stand. The hand-painted sign read a portion of the proceeds would go for a welcome-home party for Akira.

A young cop opened the front door and we walked into silence.

The large house was even more of a mess than before. Anytime you have that many cops in a mansion with free food, the results would be ugly. Lots of paper plates and foam coffee cups. More laptop computers on the glass table. More cops milling about outside. More phone lines trailing through the center of the house. Four televisions brought into the family room tuned to two news channels and two ESPN channels.

Kinjo was nowhere to be found. Lundquist looked up from where he sat with a couple of detectives. He looked less than enthused to see me.

I shook his hand. He greeted Susan warmly.

“Figured she might help a little.”

“This morning has put me in a tight spot, Spenser.” His eyes wandered over my face as he shook his head. “Made me look bad.”

“Ray Heywood was going to do it on his own,” I said. “We just lent some support.”

“Should have called us.”

I felt Susan’s hand on my back. I nodded to Lundquist.

“Didn’t turn out to be much, anyway,” I said. “Maybe the worst Charlestown crew ever assembled.”

“That would be quite an accomplishment.”

Lundquist smiled and turned. His pockmarked face was chapped and raw from a recent shaving. His dress shirt and dress pants were rumpled. Everything about him said cop.

Kinjo and Nicole sat waiting for us in Akira’s bedroom. The rain had stopped and a bright gold light flowed through the curtains and across the spotless white carpet. His walls were covered with oversized posters of superheroes, fast cars, and athletes; I noted one of them was his father. In the corner of a room sat a fish tank that had grown dirty with algae since the last time I’d been there.

Nicole wore a navy Auburn sweatshirt and jeans. No makeup. Kinjo wore the same standard-issue Pats workout clothes and no shoes. They both looked as tired and emotionally raw as expected.

“This is Susan Silverman,” I said. “She’s a psychologist I work with on many occasions.”

“No,” Nicole said. “Not now. Get her out of here.”

“Susan isn’t like anyone else you’ve spoken with, Nicole,” I said. “If she helps you, you can help me find your son.”

Susan smiled that brilliant, disarming Susan Silverman smile. She could have won over Stalin to capitalism. Nicole gave her a second glance. Kinjo didn’t show much of anything, waiting to hear what I knew.

“I’m here,” Susan said. “If you want to talk. I am not about to offer any meaningless platitudes or give you a fucking pep talk. Okay?”

“Would you believe she has a Ph.D. from Harvard?” I said.

Nicole gave a slight nod. It was not a smile but seemed to be a gesture of acceptance. Susan gently shut the door with a small click and stood close.

“It was a phony,” I said.

Kinjo nodded.

“Some drug dealers heard about it on the sports talk and wanted to bleed you a little.”

“Evil.”

“Yep.”

“What did you do to them?” Kinjo said.

“We tied them up with zip cords near their stash of coke and called the cops.”

Kinjo nodded. I took a seat on the bed next to Nicole. Kinjo sat at a child’s table in a chair made for a five-year-old. Nicole started to cry. Susan did not move. She simply observed and waited. Nicole cried even more.

“That’s the second crank,” Kinjo said.

“First one wasn’t much of a crank,” I said. “He claimed to have killed Lincoln and Mama Cass.”

“Nothing,” Kinjo said. “How can you and all these cops be looking all over Massachusetts and not find anything? What about the Crown Vic they used, men in masks? Someone saw something.”

“No one seemed to have seen them except for Cristal.”

Nicole’s eyes lifted to me and then Susan. Her chin shook a bit. And then she clenched her jaw. “You want to find my son, check her out. But check her out for real, not just let her press up against you and bat her eyelashes. All I know about that woman is that she came to you because you smell like sweat, grass, and money. Am I wrong?”

“Shut up,” Kinjo said.

“Am I wrong?” she said. “She’s a gold digger, and I wouldn’t put it past her to want a big, nice cut before she leaves your dumb black ass.”

“She’s my goddamn wife,” Kinjo said.

“Yeah.” Nicole was crying but blurted out a bit of a laugh. “I forgot.” She stood up and wiped her eyes. Even dressed down the way she was, she looked regal and put together. Her brown eyes and red mouth were very large. Her short haircut was as hip and trendy as next week. Her attitude reminded me of another woman I knew.

None of us spoke for a few minutes. The cops shuffled and talked and answered phones in the great room down the hall. After a while, Kinjo looked up from his hands. “Is he dead?”

“You can’t think like that,” I said.

“Why?” Nicole said. “Why do this and ask for no money? Cristal hates Akira. She hates that he doesn’t love her and never accepted her for anything but what she is.”

Kinjo jumped up from the small table and kicked it over. He clenched and unclenched his hands, then walked over to the wall and put a nice-sized hole in the Sheetrock.

Susan stood and touched his arm. “You can tear each other apart later,” she said. “But right now, you need to keep clearheaded. Keep thinking. Whoever did this wants exactly what’s happening. They are smart enough to want to keep you unbalanced.”

Kinjo rushed from the room and left the door wide open.

“Where else should you look?” Nicole said, wiping her eyes. “Right?”

I nodded.

“Do you know anything about Cristal?” Nicole said. “Why should we take her word?”

“Point taken,” I said.

“Would you like to get away from this for a while?” Susan said. “Catch some air? Just to breathe a little.”

Nicole took a short breath and held it, as if she changed her mind. “Yes,” she said. “That would be a nice change.”

Susan smiled warmly. Nicole wiped her face with the back of her hand.

I nodded at Susan as she turned to leave Akira’s room. Susan winked back at me.