Robert B. Parker’s Someone to Watch Over Me

28

For a young woman who possessed a high disdain for the good life, Mattie Sullivan appeared to have settled in nicely at one of the pools at the Boca Raton Resort. I found her at a table shaded by a large striped umbrella and working on the first quarter of a tall club sandwich.

“The mark of a good hotel,” I said. “A solid club sandwich.”

“I had to eat,” she said. “What took you so long?”

I told her about the meeting with Epstein and what I learned. I even told her about the ingredients of eggs perico.

“When do we head back?”

“Tonight,” I said.

“Seems like a waste,” she said. “Lounging by the pool while we have work to do.”

“You’re a hard boss.”

“Bet your ass,” she said. “Want half of the sandwich?”

“I just ate,” I said.

“Want half the sandwich?”

I took a quarter and stretched my legs out from under the umbrella. I had on a pocketed navy T-shirt, khaki shorts, and running shoes. Having decided not to go full native, I wore a Sox home cap. Something I seldom wore back in Boston.

“You think Epstein will reopen the case?” Mattie said. “Or is he just bullshitting you?”

“I know Epstein,” I said. “He doesn’t care what I think. And is low on bullshit.”

“Bullshit is how this asshole keeps his party going,” she said. “I never in my life heard of someone owning their own island. That’s nuts.”

“Apparently so is the guest list.”

“If we can show some of the Boston girls going to that island?”

“Or if we can just prove some of the girls from Boston were taken down here.”

“Gotta be lots more.”

I nodded. I finished the quarter sandwich. Mattie closed one eye and smiled. I picked up the final quarter.

“I knew you had it in you, champ.”

I tried to smile with great modesty. Lounge chairs ringed the oval pool without a single open slot. Kids frolicked. Parents drank tall tropical drinks. Six young women in bikinis seemed to be celebrating with bottles of champagne being delivered poolside. If you tuned your ear hard enough, you could hear the surf on the beach. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking.

“Can you even call these men victims?” she said. “They’re not being forced to do anything by Steiner. If he gets them on tape, that’s their own damn fault.”

“Agreed.”

“I don’t give a damn about these guys Steiner is blackmailing.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“You know where I grew up,” she said. “I seen a lot of sick stuff. I heard a lot of sick stuff. My mother was hooked on drugs. Fucking Jumpin’ Jack Flynn. I know what’s out there. I know evil is real.”

“But still.”

“How do they do this without anyone stepping up?”

“Why do people in power continue to shield the bad guys?”

“Yeah,” Mattie said. “That’s another kind of sickness.”

“You want to do this kind of work,” I said, “get used to it.”

Mattie sat back in her chair. She had on a one-piece bathing suit, cutoff blue jean shorts, and rubber flip-flops. White sunglasses and a Sox cap pulled down into her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she said. “This thing with Chloe has me thinking.”

“About not following in my footsteps?”

“You have to fight with one hand tied behind your back,” she said. “I don’t know if I’d like that.”

I nodded.

“I got one more year at Northeastern,” she said. “Maybe after. I dunno. Maybe after, maybe trying to get on with the cops.”

I widened my eyes.

“I know, I know,” she said. “But like you said, there are some good ones. Maybe you could introduce me to your friend, Captain Glass.”

“You bet,” I said. “And Martin Quirk, too. Although in full disclosure, I wouldn’t call Glass a friend. As hard as it is to believe, she can’t stand me.”

“I believe it,” Mattie said. She smiled and reached for a few french fries.

Beyond her shoulder and up at the pool’s bar, I noticed a woman staring at us. I had on sunglasses and a ball cap and stared back without her knowing. She had on a large straw hat and a tiny black bikini. She seemed to be in excellent shape, with abdominal muscles that could grate a block of Parmigiano-Reggiano.

The way her entire body turned to us, watching us straight on, made me feel uncomfortable. No furtive glances or subtle looks. This woman was staring right at me. Although I knew it was difficult for women to contain themselves around me in my best T-shirt, I felt an odd sensation at the back of my neck. My muscles bunched up, looking from the woman to the other side of the pool, where a man in a khaki suit leaned against a stucco wall. I scanned the perimeter of the pool, seeing two more men wearing suits. Odd dress for ninety-two degrees in the shade.

“What is it?”

“I’ll be back.”

“What is it?” Mattie said. “Christ, Spenser. What the hell is it?”

“Don’t turn around,” I said. “But Poppy Palmer is sitting directly behind you.”

“Bullshit.”

“And she’s got three friends with her.”

“What do we do?”

I stood up and winked at Mattie. “What else?” I said. “I’m going to introduce myself to her.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“I’d rather you not.”

“Just try and stop me.”

I didn’t.