Robert B. Parker’s Someone to Watch Over Me

46

I met Lee Farrell and Rita Fiore at the Bostonian for breakfast. I would’ve preferred getting a bagel sandwich across the street at the Quincy Market, but Rita didn’t like to eat with her hands or standing up. She looked at home in a booth by the window, sipping from a ceramic cup while Farrell ran down what he’d learned about Carly Ly.

“She was on a flight log two weeks ago,” Farrell said. “On a private plane to Boca.”

“And then?” I said.

“And then nothing,” Farrell said. “That plane returned three days later, and she wasn’t on it.”

“Have you contacted Steiner?” Rita said.

“We’re trying,” Farrell said. “We’ve heard from his attorney, guy named Greebel.”

“I know Greebel,” Rita said. “A creep that specializes in creeps.”

“We’ve met,” I said. “I was dazzled by his dentistry.”

“He can’t jam us up forever,” Farrell said. “Carly Ly is a missing person right now. Since her flight originated in Boston, that’ll give us room to work.”

My plate had been cleaned of the ham and eggs with rye toast. Rita had picked at her lox and bagel, and Farrell was still working on an egg-white veggie omelet. He told me his much younger partner had gotten him training for the marathon next year.

“When can I speak to the girls?” Farrell said.

“I’d insist on being present,” Rita said.

“Of course,” Farrell said. “And we’ll keep everything between me, the captain, and Quirk. When we’re ready for the grand jury, that will all change. But you know how that works better than anyone.”

Rita agreed while the waitress returned to refill our coffee. I watched her pour a little cream in her coffee and add two lumps of sugar.

“Are you staring at my lumps?” Rita said.

“Yikes,” I said. “Are you harassing me?”

“You bet, sweet cheeks,” Rita said.

“I would never stare at your lumps,” Farrell said.

Rita wore a very low-cut summer dress with her assets on full display. She looked down at her chest and then back at Farrell. “Really?”

“Sorry,” Farrell said. “Boobs aren’t my thing.”

I tapped at my water glass with a spoon and cleared my throat. “So glad we’ve been able to establish our personal parameters.”

Rita smiled and cut off one more piece of bagel and lox. She chewed thoughtfully and then leaned in, resting her chin on the tips of her fingers. “Well,” she said. “We may be fucked. Chloe Turner’s mother says they’re dropping out of the suit. Someone got to her.”

“They know Chloe Turner because of what happened at the Blackstone,” Farrell said. “But how’d they know you’d spoken to Grace Bennett?”

“I must’ve been followed.”

“You?” Rita said.

“I know,” I said. “Even the pros make an error. From time to time.”

“Whatever happens, I don’t want the DA involved yet,” Rita said. “The Bennett sisters went through hell with my previous employer. What a creep. I like our new DA but don’t trust him any farther than I can toss him. Not with this much money and power involved.”

Farrell nodded. My phone buzzed, and I saw Mattie’s name. I turned off the ringer and set it aside. If it were an emergency, she’d call back.

“Is it true about the good senator?” Rita said. “And possibly our president one day?”

“Family values,” I said. “Law and order.”

“That’s probably what he shouts when he climaxes.”

“Thanks for that mental image.”

“Cerberus is the absolute best at discrediting witnesses,” Rita said. “They’ll be scouring every social media post, interviewing friends of these girls, talking with teachers. Any missteps, however tiny, will be amplified. Same for you, Spenser, and you, Lee.”

“But my heart is pure,” I said.

“Your heart may be pure, but your record looks like shit,” she said. “Do I need to remind you that you’ve made a goddamn encyclopedia of enemies over the years?”

I clutched my imaginary pearls and offered a surprised expression.

“I’ve worked with these guys before,” she said. “I don’t want to shock you, but sometimes I work for some really awful people.”

“Everyone deserves a good defense,” Farrell said.

“Even Peter Steiner?” I said.

“Most everyone,” Rita said.

“Looks like our best bet is going to be the Feds,” I said.

“Unfortunately,” Farrell said. “I had to reach out to them about the flights.”

“Anything new?” I said.

“Seems your man in Miami is on to something,” he said. “But you know the Feds work in strange and mysterious ways.”

“Mainly strange,” I said.

“Billionaires, athletes, and politicians,” Rita said.

“Oh, my,” Farrell said.

Rita rolled her eyes and leaned in to the table. She looked back behind her and over to two men seated at the bar drinking Bloody Marys. “Those two?”

“Maybe,” I said.

Farrell lifted his chin to the door, at a guy in a navy suit scrolling through his phone. “Or him?”

I shrugged.

“How’s the kid?” Rita said.

“Staying with Susan,” I said.

“And we’re watching Susan,” Farrell said.

“If Susan is watching the kid and the police are watching Susan, who is watching Spenser?”

“Spenser,” I said.

“And Hawk?” she said.

“Thinking of taking another little trip,” I said.

“An exotic port of call?” Farrell said.

I placed a finger to my lips and winked.