A Fine Line (25 page)

We renewed our exploration of the real estate pages, looking for a place for Evie that would be convenient to Beth Israel Hospital. There wasn’t much on the market in the Boston-Brookline area that appeared suitable for goats.

When the ball game came on, we folded up the real estate pages, turned on the TV, and watched the Red Sox lose to the Tigers over at Fenway Park under a dark ominous sky.

After the game, we took Henry for a walk, and when we got back, we opened two bottles of Sam Adams, put together
a refrigerator soup from the leftover chicken and various vegetables we found, and put it on low heat on the stove.

Then we undressed, showered together, dried each other off, and dozed in the bedroom while the soup simmered. Well, Evie dozed. I pretended while I lay there on my back staring up at the ceiling.

I kept seeing Ethan Duffy’s face with duct tape over his eyes.

After an hour or so, Evie stirred and said she was hungry. We got up, made some coffee, and gave Henry supper. Evie and I ate the soup with oyster crackers, took coffee into the living room, smoked, sipped, and watched the night seep into the harbor.

And all that time, the cell phone never rang.

After a while, Evie said, “Well, I guess I better get going. Tomorrow’s Monday.”

“Why don’t you stay the night?” I said.

She shook her head. “We don’t live together, remember?”

“I know, but . . .”

“You’re worried about that man.”

I shrugged.

“I can take care of myself, Brady. I’ve done it all my life.”

“This is different.”

“I understand. I came here Friday night when you told me not to, and now I’m going home, even if you don’t want me to.

“I’ll follow you, then,” I said. “Make sure you get there safely.”

“What, so you can lead him to my house if he’s following you?”

“Valid point.” I didn’t want to tell her that I suspected he already knew where she lived. “Okay,” I said. “Keep your
car doors locked and your pepper spray and cell phone handy.”

“I will,” she said. “And I’ll call you when I get there. I’ll lock all my doors. If I see or hear anything, I’ll call the cops. Please don’t worry about me. Okay?”

“You’ll be careful?”

She smiled. “I’m always careful.”

I brought along my .38 when Evie and Henry and I took the elevator down to the parking garage, and I kept it in my hand while she put her arms around my neck and kissed me hard on the mouth.

She bent down and gave Henry a pat, then turned, unlocked her car, and slid in. She started it up and rolled down her window. I bent and kissed her again. “You’ll keep me posted on the job?”

“I’ll consult you on the job,” she said. “It involves you, too.”

“I agree.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Got your pepper spray handy?”

“I’ve got my pepper spray and my cell phone and my whistle,” she said. “Relax.”

“I’m not going to relax until you call and tell me you’re home safely,” I said.

“You’re not going to relax anyway,” she said.

Henry and I watched Evie drive out of the garage. Then we headed for the elevator. An elderly couple, neighbors I’d seen many times over the years but whose names I didn’t know, were waiting for it to come down.

We nodded and said hello, and Henry and I waited beside them. The woman glanced down at my hand which, I realized, was still holding my revolver.

I hastily stuck it in my pocket.

She frowned and grabbed her husband’s arm.

They got off on the second floor. As I remembered it, they lived on five.

I
sat beside the telephone until Evie called. “I’m here,” she said. “Safe and sound.”

“Took you long enough.”

“Forty minutes, like always.”

“It seemed longer than that. Doors locked?”

“Of course.”

“You sure nobody followed you?”

She laughed softly. “I’m fine, Brady. I’ve got my pepper spray and my cell phone, and nobody can get in anyway.”

“I wish we were living together,” I said.

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “What did you just say?”

“I said, um, I wish you were here so we could be together.”

She laughed. “That’s not what you said.”

“You know what I said.”

“True,” she said. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

So I said it again.

I probably slept, but it seemed as if I lay awake all night waiting for the damn cell phone to ring.

It never did.

Monday morning Herm Alberts called me at the office to agonize over his prenuptial agreement. I reminded him that I’d laid out all the pros and cons of it for him, and that if he decided he wanted a prenup, all we needed to do was work out the details.

He said that he couldn’t bear the thought of raising the subject with Lauren.

“It’s an important decision,” I said noncommittally.

“I wish you’d never brought up the subject.”

“Hm,” I said. “Sorry. It’s my job, bringing up subjects.” I cleared my throat. “Listen, Herm. A wise person once said, for most of life’s decisions you should use your head. Gather as much information as you can, analyze it objectively, and let the facts tell you what to do. But for really important decisions, you should listen to your heart.”

“Huh?” said Herm. “My heart?”

“I’m not telling you what to do,” I said. “But I think this qualifies as a really important decision.”

“What would
you
do? I mean, if you were me.”

“I guess if I were you I’d be agonizing just the way you are.”

“I mean, if you were getting married, would you insist on a prenup?”

“I’m not you, Herm. And I’m not getting married.”

“When you were married, did you have one?”

“No. But that was a long time ago, and I didn’t have any assets.”

He was quiet for a minute. “You’re not going to advise me on this, are you?”

“I’m not a marriage counselor. I’m just a lawyer. I want you to understand your options. It’s your decision.”

“A marriage counselor,” he said. “We’re not even married yet, and we should go to a marriage counselor?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Screw it,” he said after a minute. “I know exactly what my heart’s saying to me.” He hesitated. “Who is this wise person you mentioned?”

“Zee Jackson.”

“Never heard of him.”

“It’s a her, actually,” I said. “Let me know what you decide.”

“I already know. I don’t want any damn prenup.”

“You’ve got time to change your mind,” I said. “Think it over.”

“No thinking required,” he said. “I feel better already. In fact, I feel terrific. Thank you, Brady.”

I hung up smiling.

The instant I hung up with Herm, my intercom buzzed. I pressed the button and picked up the phone. “What’s up?”

“The police officers are here,” said Julie. “Can you see them now?”

Julie knew perfectly well I could see them now. Promoting the illusion that I was always busy had become a knee-jerk reaction for her.

“I think I can squeeze them in,” I told her.

A minute later, Julie opened the door and Saundra Mendoza and Matthew Keeler came in. Neither of them looked
happy to see me. I wondered if Horowitz had decided to bring them into it, tell them about Ethan and my cell phone. “Julie offer you coffee?” I said.

“We’re okay,” said Keeler. “I know you’re busy. We’ll try to keep it short.”

I nodded and gestured at the sofa in my sitting area.

The two cops sat beside each other, and I took the chair across from them.

Keeler glanced at Mendoza, then leaned forward. “I thought you agreed to let us know if you got any more phone calls.”

I hesitated. The last time I’d seen these cops had been at One Central Plaza with the FBI agents. That was the day before my cell phone arrived. Before I knew about Ethan. It seemed as if it was months ago. “You mean calls that mention places where fires are going to happen?” I said.

“What other kind of calls are you getting?” said Keeler.

I shook my head. “I didn’t get any calls about a fire. Why? Was there one?”

He nodded. “Last night in Southie. A warehouse. Wholesaler that imports electronic stuff from Japan.”

“The spotted owl people again?”

He nodded. “Channel 7 got a tape this morning.”

“Why that place?”

“Japan’s a big polluter, I guess.”

I shrugged. “Well, I didn’t get any phone call about it.”

Mendoza pointed her finger at me. “You’re not holding anything back from us, are you?”

“Why would I do that?”
Did they know about Ethan
?

She glanced at Keeler, then narrowed her dark eyes at me. “You tell me.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t get any call about any fire. What makes the difference, anyhow?”

“We’re trying to catch him, for Christ’s sake,” said Mendoza. “You’re supposed to be helping us.”

“If he didn’t call you,” said Keeler, “it means he’s changing his pattern.”

“And?”

“And if he keeps changing his pattern, he’s going to be harder to catch.”

I nodded. “I told you I’d cooperate.”

Keeler and Mendoza exchanged glances. Then Mendoza leaned toward me and said, “There was a body.”

“In the fire?”

She nodded.

I looked at her. I blew out a breath.
Ethan
. “Who was it?”

She shook her head. “It’s gonna take a while to ID him.” She hesitated. “You want to hear this?”

“Yes.”

“You explain it,” she said to Keeler. “You’re the arson expert.”

Keeler cleared his throat. “It’s not that sophisticated. He uses gasoline for his accelerant. A couple sticks of dynamite, a primer, a battery, remote electronic detonation. He sets it all up, then moves away, gets his video camera going, and flicks his ignition switch. Last night, as near as we can figure, his victim was in the same room as the dynamite. Judging by the, um, the condition of the body, he had probably been doused with accelerant. No way to ID him visually. They’re going to have to go to dental records, bone X-rays. We’ll be lucky if they get anything definitive in a week.”

“Jesus,” I whispered. I looked up at him. “You said ‘he.’ This victim, it was a man?”

Keeler nodded.

“Old? Young? Short? Tall? Fat? Skinny?”

Mendoza narrowed her eyes at me. “Why? You got somebody in mind?”

Either they didn’t know about Ethan, or they were waiting to see if I’d mention him. Maybe I should tell them. If he was the one who’d died in that fire . . .

No. The voice on the phone had been very clear. And Horowitz had agreed. I should tell nobody. I just had to hope that Ethan was not the corpse they’d found in the South Boston warehouse.

So I just shrugged. “After Walt Duffy and Ben Frye,” I said, “I don’t even want to imagine that it could be somebody else that I know. How did he die?” I patted the back of my head. “Like the others?”

“No,” said Mendoza. “Worse.”

“In the fire?”

She nodded.

I should’ve told them, I thought. I should’ve gone straight to Randall, given her the damn cell phone, told her about the phone calls and the apartment above the record store and the videotape. Dumped it on her lap.

Would that have saved Ethan? Maybe.

Maybe not.

And maybe this dead body wasn’t Ethan. Maybe he was still alive.

I had to believe that. I had to play it out. At this point, I didn’t see that I had any other choice.

“Mr. Coyne,” said Keeler. “You okay?”

“No,” I said. “Of course not. That’s horrible.”

“You can’t help us with this?”

“I don’t see how,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“What’re you holding back?” said Mendoza.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t believe you.”

I shrugged.

“He’s holding out on us,” she said to Keeler. “I know damn well he is.”

Keeler looked at me, then shrugged.

“We should take him to Randall,” she said to him. “The sonofabitch knows something. She’ll get it out of him.”

“Don’t play bad cop with me, Detective,” I said.

“You ain’t seen nothing,” she growled.

“Are
you telling us everything?” said Keeler.

I nodded. “Yes.”

He peered at me for a minute. Then he turned to Mendoza. “I believe him,” he said. “We know where to find him if we need him. You’re not going to disappear on us, are you, Mr. Coyne?”

“Why would I do that?”

Keeler nodded. “Okay. Good.” He stood up. “Come on,” he said to Mendoza. “Let’s get on with it, let Mr. Coyne get back to work.”

Mendoza glared at me. “I know you’re holding out on us,” she said.

Keeler touched her shoulder. “Leave it, Sandy,” he said softly.

Mendoza stood up, shook her head, and walked out of my office.

“It’s her sister,” said Keeler. “Poor kid. She’s convinced she’s going to die.”

“Maybe they should make her take a leave of absence or something,” I said. “She shouldn’t be on the loose, harassing law-abiding citizens.”

“Ah, she’d go crazy without the job.” He held out his hand. “I apologize for her.”