Robert B. Parker’s Someone to Watch Over Me

37

I sat with Mattie and Carly Ly’s father in the back of a Vietnamese restaurant on Revere Beach. He was a smallish man with jet-black hair and enormous gold glasses. He had a lot to say, although I needed one of his waitresses to translate.

“He says the police are of no help,” the woman said.

It was raining outside on the beach, along with a lot of thunder and lightning.

“Did she ever mention working for a man named Peter Steiner?” Mattie said.

Mr. Ly held up his hand. He understood what was being asked. He nodded and then spoke for a long while. We waited and listened.

“Yes,” the woman said. “He never met Mr. Steiner, but he has been of no help, either. Steiner told the police that Carly didn’t show up for work and he hasn’t heard anything from her.”

Mattie looked over at me. Rain dappled her Red Sox jacket.

“Does he know his daughter dropped out of school?”

Mr. Ly grew even more agitated and spoke for a long while. He threw up his hands and went on and on. He was visibly upset.

The translator looked to us and said, “Yes.”

“All that for a yes?” I said.

She nodded. The woman was in her late twenties, with shoulder-length black hair, and wore an apron over a T-shirt and jeans. Between translations, she would disappear into the kitchen and bring out another order to the mostly empty restaurant. A white couple, looking very Cambridge, sat at a booth by the window sipping pho.

Thunder rattled the windows and the front door. The rain hammered the pavement and street along the beachfront. How it clatters along the roofs, like the tramp of hoofs.

“What did the police tell you?” Mattie said.

More talking from Mr. Ly. He was subdued this time, talking low and quiet, shaking his head and giving an elegant shrug. I understood the shrug.

“They say she ran away,” the translator said. “Because she had packed her things and taken a travel bag.”

“Ah,” I said.

Mattie cut her eyes over at me and nodded. She didn’t take notes this time. Maybe it was the office setting that inspired the note-taking. Or maybe it was in response to Rita’s professionalism.

“Did she say anything about the Bahamas?” Mattie said.

Mr. Ly shrugged again. He gave a very short answer.

“He says Carly didn’t like to talk to him,” the young woman said. “She kept many things to herself.”

Mattie asked whom Mr. Ly had spoken to at the police department. He nodded, stood up, and disappeared into the kitchen. The restaurant smelled very good, of Asian spices and fresh herbs. If I hadn’t eaten a pile of sandwiches on the way over, I would’ve ordered a nice banh mi.

“He has a card,” the translator said. “He and Carly never got along. She hated working at the restaurant. But she didn’t have the choice.”

“Did you know her very well?” I said.

“Of course,” the woman said. “I’m her older sister, Lilly. And before you ask, she didn’t tell me much, either. All Carly wanted to do was get far away from here and start her own life. The more she protested, the more my father asked of her. I think working for this Steiner man was her way out.”

Mattie was chewing gum. She was thinking hard about something, waiting to ask her next question. She was impatient — however, properly aggressive.

“Is this like Carly?” Mattie said. “To just leave?”

“Very much,” Lilly Ly said. “Very much.”

“Without calling?” I said.

She nodded. Mr. Ly returned from the kitchen with a business card from a Revere Police Department patrol officer. It appeared no one had thought to send out an actual detective to investigate.

“Did she ever tell you about Peter Steiner?” Mattie said.

“Why?” Lilly said.

“Well,” Mattie said. “Let’s say he is a person of interest.”

Lilly swallowed and nodded. Her father said something to her in Vietnamese, and she got up and went to the window to check on the customers. While she was gone, we were all silent. Mr. Ly sat quiet and still, looking out the window at the rain until his daughter returned.

“I believe she was in love with him,” Lilly said.

No one said anything. Mattie was getting better about listening, especially when she was on to something important.

“She talked about this Steiner man a lot,” Lilly said. “She told me he was very rich and very handsome. She said he was witty and clever and smelled very nice.”

“The same has been said of me,” I said.

Mattie kicked me under the table.

“Could she be with him?” Lilly Ly said. “Is that what you think?”

I nodded. Mattie nodded.

“She’s only fifteen,” Lilly said. “She has no experience with men. She has little experience outside Revere. Our mother is dead, and our entire life has been this restaurant. If she’s safe and you find her, would you have her please call home?”

We promised.

Mr. Ly started talking again, very rapid and with a lot of intensity. We listened although Mattie and I had no idea what was being said. When he finished, he smacked his hand against the table in exclamation, stood, and walked back to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Lilly said.

“For what?” I said.

“For what he said.”

“What exactly did he say?” Mattie said.

“He believes Mr. Spenser is a policeman,” she said. “And he does not like policemen. Or trust them. He had many bad experiences back in Vietnam.”

Mattie worked over her gum. A woman walked into the restaurant carrying a plastic bag over her head but still soaked from the rain. Mr. Ly brought her neatly packed bags of takeout and rang her up.

“I would like some pictures of Carly,” Mattie said.

Lilly nodded.

“And would you show me where she lived?” Mattie said. “Her bedroom?”

Lilly pointed back to the kitchen. “We have a living space behind the restaurant. Give me a moment and I will take you.”

I thanked Lilly as she walked up to her father. They looked to be having a serious debate about the request.

“She’s on the island,” Mattie said.

“The worst being a best-case scenario.”

My cell began to pulse in my pocket. I checked the screen, the call coming from a Boston number I didn’t immediately recognize. I took it anyway.

“Goddamn it, Spenser.”

“My father used to call me that,” I said.

“They showed up,” a woman said. “They fucking showed up at my studio and knew we’d talked. They knew everything. I can’t have this. Bri can’t have this. Don’t you ever fucking call me again.”

“Grace?” I said.

“Damn right it’s Grace,” she said. “They said they know where Bri lives, too. I will never speak to you again. And forget about Bri. She’s scared shitless.”

“Did they threaten you?” I said.

The line went dead. I looked up at Mattie.

“Check the girl’s room,” I said. “I’ll be in the car. I have to make some calls.”

I walked up to the register, where Mr. Ly eyed me from a barstool. I asked him for a cup of coffee to go. As I waited, a golden Lucky Cat smiled as it raised its paw up and down in a show of peace and friendship.

I thanked Mr. Ly. He said nothing.

I ran out into the rain and back to the Land Cruiser. I left word with Henry to have Hawk meet me at Grace Bennett’s in the Seaport.