Robert B. Parker’s Someone to Watch Over Me

2

“That’s sexual battery,” Susan said.

“Along with a multitude of other charges.”

“Did he touch her?”

“Mattie says he didn’t,” I said.

“But he exposed himself?”

“Yes,” I said. “Seeking solo gratification.”

“Ick,” Susan said.

“My sentiments exactly.”

Inside my Navy Yard apartment, I continued to spoon the calamari salad I’d just picked up from Red’s onto an antique china plate. A collection of scallops as large as fists waited nearby in a mix of white wine and lemon juice. I’d premade a mixed green salad with fresh tomatoes and local peppers from the Public Market. A bottle of sauvignon blanc had been opened and sat chilled in an ice bucket for Susan. I nursed a Johnnie Walker Blue in a tall glass with lots of ice.

“But Mattie doesn’t want her friend Chloe to talk to the cops?”

“Mattie agrees she should talk to the cops,” I said. “First the laptop. And then the creep.”

“And one does not change Mattie Sullivan’s mind.”

“One does not,” I said. “Would you like more wine?”

“I’ve barely started this glass.”

Outside the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window, the sun painted the shipyard, the Zakim Bridge, and downtown Boston in a lovely gold glow. The ship masts ticktocked in a slight summer wind. I refilled my glass with more ice and more Johnnie Walker. Ellington at Newport spun on the turntable.

As I shifted to a second plate, I dropped some squid onto the hardwood floor. A gangly creature with tall legs and droopy brown ears rushed into the kitchen to assist with the mess. The creature lapped up the squid and turned its brown eyes up to me for more, head tilted in a cheap ploy for sympathy.

I tossed down a bit more.

“You’re training her to know you’re a sucker,” Susan said.

“Pearl has always known my weakness.”

“And you still believe this Pearl and our Pearl are one and the same?”

I nodded, pouring out some olive oil into a hot copper skillet.

“Makes as much sense as anything,” Susan said.

“True.”

“And this system of yours, knowing when she’ll be born and where to find her, is secret.”

“Known only to me and Hawk.”

“And what does Hawk think?”

“Hawk believes all white people are crazy.”

“Hawk may have a point.”

Puppy Pearl scampered away, only to return a moment later with a rope toy larger than she is, and dropped it at Susan’s feet. Susan picked it up and tossed it across my apartment. The apartment was four times the size of my old place on Marlborough, and it took some time for Puppy Pearl to return. Old Pearl had passed away back in March, and the weeks after had in many ways been unbearable. Losing Pearl Two had been even tougher than losing the first.

“How about I just call her Puppy for now?” Susan said.

“Not ready for her to assume the throne yet?”

“Not yet,” she said. “Give me time.”

I sipped my scotch. Duke debated a tulip, a turnip, rosebud, rhubarb, fillet, or plain beef stew. The warm light across the hardwood floors and brick walls made for a pleasant early evening. I picked up the scallops and set them into a hot pan. The sizzling sound only added to the pleasantness.

“Do you know anything more about this man?”

“Mattie told me her client said he was middle-aged, handsome, and supposedly fabulously wealthy.”

“No name?”

“No name.”

“Did Mattie call this girl her client?”

“Not that exact word,” I said. “But she believes the young woman is her client.”

“Does that worry you?”

“Why would it worry me?”

“The life you lead is very interesting and very satisfying for you,” Susan said. “But it doesn’t come easy or without many risks and sacrifices.”

“But if I hadn’t been in this line of work, how else would’ve I met a hot Jewish shrink with incredible sexual appetites?”

“Right now, my appetites are focused on those scallops.”

“But later?”

“Dessert,” she said. “What do you have for dessert?”

“Where is Susan Silverman, and what have you done with her?”

Susan stared at me with a devilish little grin. I felt my heart swell in my chest and a smile creep onto my lips.

“You will help Mattie,” Susan said.

“Of course.”

“Even if she doesn’t want help.”

“Do you really have any doubts?”

I flipped the scallops, the edges turning a lovely brown color in the butter and olive oil. We were nearly ready to sit down. Pearl rambled up to my feet and looked up panting, long tongue lolling out of her little mouth as all Pearls had done before.

“Family trait,” I said.

“I wonder if she’ll be able to stalk squirrels in the Public Garden,” she said. “Maybe track a lone french fry or candy wrapper.”

“Of course,” I said, reaching down to rub her long, droopy ears. “She was born to it.”