“I heard Kevin got it in a shootout over on A Street.”

“From me,” I said.

“Huh?”

“He got it from me. I shot him.”

Scanlan took in some more smoke. I knew so few people who smoked anymore that it was kind of fascinating to watch him.

“How come you shot him?”

“He was trying to shoot me,” I said.

Scanlan shrugged. “Shit happens,” he said.

“Tell me about Marvin Conroy.”

“Nothing to tell,” Scanlan said. “When the cops tried to hang me with that bum rap he helped me out with the lawyer.”

“Why?” I said.

“I guess he was the one got Jack to hire us.”

“To do what?”

Scanlan said, “A little of this, a little of that.”

“You’re a thug,” I said. “You were doing strong-arm work.”

“Cops couldn’t hold us.”

“Somebody shot Jack DeRosa to pieces,” I said.

“Jack?”

“Jack and his girlfriend,” I said. “Fifty rounds.”

“Margy?”

“Yep.”

“Why her?”

“Probably for being there.”

“Who done it?”

“What would be your guess?” I said.

“How the fuck would I know?”

“I figure Jack got it because he knew something and somebody wanted to make sure he didn’t tell it to me.”

“You?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I figure you know it, too.”

“They killed him so he wouldn’t talk with you?”

“Seems like.”

“So?”

“Now I’m talking to you,” I said.

Scanlan looked around the parking area.

“You son of a bitch,” he said.

I smiled at him.

“You’re setting me up.”

“No,” I said. “I’m asking you about Marvin Conroy.”

“Why him?”

“Detective’s intuition,” I said.

“And if I don’t know nothing about him?”

“I keep hanging around and asking about him and talking to you and talking to other people about talking to you.”

“You bastard, you’re going to get me killed.”

“Not if you tell me what you know.”

Scanlan glanced around the lot again. There were only two cars parked there.

“You got a gun,” Scanlan said.

“I do.”

“What happens if I remembered some stuff?” Scanlan said.

“I go away and never mention your name again,” I said.

Scanlan dropped his cigarette and stepped on it and got out a package of Marlboros and lit a new one.

“I don’t know much,” he said.

I waited.

“Jack DeRosa come to me and Kevin one day, says he’s got a easy couple a hundred for us. Tells me all we got to do is rough up some fucking suit. So we say why not, and he says the guy comes down Summer Street every night, same time, got a condo over by the milk bottle thing, you know? And we say fine, we’ll pull him over behind the Postal Annex and have our talk.”

Scanlan dragged in some smoke.

“So the next night, Jack drives us over there and points out the guy. He waits in the car, and we go over and do it. But while we’re doing it some fucking postal cop comes by and pulls his gun. Once in a lifetime, you know, I mean, how many postal cops you ever seen, for crissake. Jack takes off, and we’re busted. EMT’S show up and patch our guy up and we all go over to the station and me and Kevin are shutting up because, what the fuck, we don’t even know why we’re smacking the guy around.”

“DeRosa tell you to say anything to him?”

“Jack says just tell him it’s a message from his bank.”

“He seem to understand that?”

“Who knows. He’s so fucking scared it’s hard to say what he understood. So we’re in the station and the cops are yelling at us and we’re saying jack shit, and this lady lawyer comes in. Man, I’d fuck her in a heartbeat.”

“She’ll be pleased to know that,” I said.

“She tells us her name and says she’s from Kiley and Harbaugh. She says that the suit won’t bring charges, and that she’s getting us released.”

He stopped his eyes moving back and forth across the parking lot.

“That’s it?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“You never saw her again?”

“No.”

“Where’s Marvin Conroy come in?” I said.

“Oh, him,” Scanlan said. “Jack picks us up after we’re out, and I say to Jack, ”Thanks for sending us a lawyer,“ and he says, ”No problem,“ and I say, ”We owe anybody any money?“‘ and he says, ”Nope, it’s on Marvin Conroy,“ and I say, ”Who’s Marvin Conroy?“’ And Jack kind of smiles and says, ”The guy from the bank.“”

“You know who sent McGonigle to kill me?”

“No idea.”

“You driving the car?”

“No way.”

“Jack DeRosa send you?”

“I wasn’t there, man. DeRosa was in jail then.”

“How do you know when it happened?”

“Kevin was a friend of mine,” Scalan said. “I remember when he got killed.”

“DeRosa send McGonigle?”

“Could be,” Scalan said.

I nodded. I didn’t believe he wasn’t driving, but I didn’t think he knew much more than he’d told me. He was too far down the food chain. And I was pretty sure he wouldn’t admit to being an accomplice to attempted murder. So I let it go.

“Okay,” I said. “We’re done.”

“What’d you tell Barb?”

“At the checkout counter? I said I was your new caseworker.”

Scanlan nodded. “She knows I done time,” he said. “You gonna keep your mouth shut about this like you said?”

“Like a stone,” I said.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Susan’s eyes were big and dark and brilliant with interest. “You think Ann Kiley recruited the DeRosa man?”

“Yes.”

“If Marvin Conroy and Ann Kiley are so deeply in love that she’ll supply thugs, and bail them out afterwards,” Susan said, “would he leave without a word and she not know where he was?”

“Maybe she was the only one deeply in love,” I said.

“Maybe,” Susan said. “But it might be worth keeping an eye on her.”

I smiled, and said, “Great idea.”

Susan studied my face for a moment. “You’re already doing that, aren’t you?”

I shrugged.

“Not Hawk,” Susan said. “He’s watching you.”

I shrugged again.

“Vinnie?”

“Yeah.”

“Vinnie is watching Ann Kiley.”

“I thought it would be good if we knew where she went and who she talked to, and maybe offer a little protection.”

“I thought her father was arranging protection.”

“He was, but, you know, Vinnie is pretty good.”

“Depends how you define good,” Susan said.

“He’s the best shooter I ever saw,” I said.

“That’s how I thought you’d define it,” Susan said.

I was on a stool in Susan’s kitchen, supervising as she made egg salad for sandwiches. She was spooning Miracle Whip into a bowl with the hard-boiled eggs. Pearl was lying on her couch across the room, aging, but still alert to the possibility of a spoon to lick.

“I didn’t know they made Miracle Whip anymore,” I said.

“They do.”

“Many people use mayo,” I said.

“Miracle Whip makes a much better egg salad,” she said.

I nodded.

“You ever think of mixing in some chopped green peppers?” I said.

“No,” she said.

“I like a person clear on their preferences,” I said.

“Me too. Have you found any intersection between Mary Smith and the Levesque person on one hand, and Conroy and Ann Kiley and that group on the other?”

“Nathan Smith,” I said.

“Besides that,” Susan said.

“No.”

“Maybe there isn’t one,” she said.

“Sometimes I snip a few chives into the egg salad,” I said.

“I don’t,” she said. She stirred some chopped celery into the egg and Miracle Whip mixture.

“You think she killed her husband?”

“Looks like it,” I said. “The gun she gave Levesque to get rid of is the one that killed him.”

“Do you think Marvin Conroy is the one who killed all these other people?”

“He’s involved,” I said. “Soldiers Field Development might have something to do with it, too.”

“To do with what?” Susan said.

She spread out five slices of white bread and began to spread each with her egg-salad mixture.

“White bread?” I said.