Robert B. Parker’s Revenge Tour

Forty-Five

In the time since I’d spoken to Melanie Joan on the phone, she’d skipped all the other stages of grief and gone straight to acceptance.

“He always wanted to die at his desk,” she said.

We had been having a lot of group sessions in the living room and were now having another. Melanie Joan. Samantha Heller. Spike, Rosie, and me. Rosie was between Samantha and me on the sofa.

“I say that with love,” she added.

“Everybody knows how close the two of you were,” Samantha said. “You don’t have to prove it to us.”

“If you add it all up,” Melanie Joan said, “it was the longest and most successful relationship with any man in my life. We made a good team, Chaz and me. But in all honesty, he’s done very little work on my books for a long time. The last couple books, his line notes were practically nonexistent.”

“He was murdered last night,” I said quietly, as if resetting the conversation for her.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Melanie Joan said. “I was just trying to get you to understand my relationship with Chaz.” She looked over at Spike as she pointed at me. “Isn’t she the one always accusing me of holding things back?”

“I need a beer,” Spike said, and walked toward the kitchen.

His way of sitting this one out.

Melanie Joan turned to Samantha now.

“I can only cry for Chaz so much,” she said. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“We all do, MJ,” Samantha said. “Sunny included.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Melanie Joan said.

“The same person who did such a thing to Richard Gross,” Samantha said.

“What we need you to understand,” I said to Melanie Joan, “is that someone is closing the circle around you in a quite violent way.”

“The way it likely has for all of us who are close to you,” Spike said, back with a bottle of Samuel Adams.

“Some closer than others,” Melanie Joan said, shooting me a withering look. Or so she seemed to think.

“Sigh,” I said.

“How are you going to protect me and each other?” Melanie Joan said.

“It can be done,” I said. “But I’m going to need more help.”

“More than you and Spike?” Melanie Joan said, making the two of us sound like the First Army.

“Yes,” I said.

“How can such a thing even be possible?” Spike said. “I mean, who’s better than us?”

I told him.

“I stand corrected,” Spike said.