Robert B. Parker’s Someone to Watch Over Me

49

Maria Tran worked at her parents’ nail salon in Chinatown but agreed to meet us at the Starbucks on Charles Street, just off the Common. Mattie and I walked from my office, watchful of anyone following us, through the Public Garden and over Beacon.

Maria stood up as we entered and waved to us from a small back table. She looked even younger than when I’d first met her at Rita’s office. She wore no makeup, her straight black hair down across her shoulders, and had on a red summer dress overlaid with a white cardigan. She looked like she should be skipping through the forest with a picnic basket.

We joined her at the table. She told us she didn’t have much time.

“Carly emailed me,” she said. “She’s on that island, and they won’t let her leave.”

“Holy Christ,” Mattie said. “Those assholes.”

“Peter and Poppy are flying back there tomorrow,” Maria said. “She was told she had to stay and work at another party. She begged for them to let her leave, but they won’t.”

“Did she call her father?” I said.

“No,” Maria said. “Her phone doesn’t work there. I think she reached out to her sister, too. I’m scared for her. Do you think they’ll hurt her?”

Mattie shook her head and said no, lying through her teeth. I did the same.

“Can you tell the police?” Maria said.

“Sure,” I said. “But they can’t do much. Boston police are pretty much limited to Boston.”

“What about your friend in Miami?” Mattie said.

“Pretty much limited to the U.S.,” I said. “The exact reason Steiner parties offshore.”

“They can’t do that,” Maria said. “They can’t keep her locked up. Forcing her to work. I told her I would come for her. I’ve already checked in to flights. I can find her. I can help her get free.”

“And then you’ll get stuck like Carly,” Mattie said. “Or worse.”

Despite the conversation, it was still and pleasant inside the Beacon Hill Starbucks. They played Louis and Ella doing “I’ll Never Be Free.” I tapped my fingers on the small table, the flat top wobbly. I thought about the many limitations of American law enforcement and the many possibilities of being a hot dog freelancer.

“But I can,” I said.

Mattie shook her head. “This is what they want.”

“I know.”

“The Gray Man will be there, and he’ll try and kill you.”

“Try being the operative word.”

“It’s almost like you want to face him,” she said. “Like some kind of duel?”

I thought about it. I nodded.

“I want to go with you,” she said. “I can help.”

“Not with this.”

Mattie gritted her teeth and crossed her arms across her chest. “God.”

“What exactly did Carly say?” I said.

Maria pulled out her phone, tapped at the screen, and showed me the message. I read through it and scrolled through the thread. The thought did occur to me that she had been coerced like Chloe. You can take Spenser out of Boston, but not Boston out of Spenser.

I tapped along with the song, like I was playing the piano. Ella hitting that last wonderful plaintive note. “Hmm,” I said.

“They’re calling you out,” Mattie said. “Goddamn, don’t you see it?”

“Toss me in the briar patch.”

“Better not talk that way around Hawk.”

“Why not?” I said. “He’s going with me.”

“Thank you,” Maria said. “Thank you.”

“Hawk knows people there,” I said.

“Hawk knows people everywhere,” Mattie said.