“I need some help,” I said. “Do you know somebody named Juan Alvarez? Rich guy. Import/export business out of Boston. Big spread in Weston where he keeps his horses and illegal immigrants and probably some other stuff I don’t know about yet.”

“I’ve heard of him. Don’t know him. Never arrested for anything that I can remember. I’ll run his name. What’s your interest?”

“I’ve got reason to believe he’s running drugs and laundering money, perhaps as part of a Mexican drug cartel. He may also be involved in murder and human trafficking, including children.”

“Sounds like a prince,” Healy said.

I told Healy about Carmen and what she had relayed to me.

Healy leaned back in the chair. “She credible, this Carmen?”

“I think so.”

“Maybe she had a fight with Alvarez, wants to teach him a lesson. Maybe she wants to take over his business once he’s out of the picture.”

I shook my head. “I don’t read it that way. I believe her.”

Healy gazed at me for a long moment. “That’s good enough for me. Like I said, I’ll run the file. What about these properties? Estate in Weston I understand. Legit business office in the Financial District. But the houses on Curtis Street. Fill me in.”

I did.

“He owns the whole block?”

“All but one building, which he bought for his brother, who runs it as a shelter for runaways and street kids. Calls it Street Business.”

“Think I’ve heard of it. Supposed to be okay. So what’s the caveat?”

“Apparently Alvarez has covered himself pretty well, because any paper you’ve got on that place is a sham. Street Business isn’t licensed. Probably a boatload of Child Protective Services violations, but it’s serving a need and doing good work. I want to take down Alvarez and leave Street Business standing.”

Healy shook his head. “Jesus, you don’t ask much, do you, Spenser. And how, exactly, does a mere public servant like me fit in to your plans?”

“I need to find out what law enforcement knows about Alvarez and his business. I want to know who might have an interest in him—Feds, state, local—and for what. When I have that, I’ll think up a way to smoke him out, something that sends him over the edge. If it works, Captain Healy of the Massachusetts State Police swoops in at just the right time and hauls him in.”

“And his brother’s illegal truant hostel somehow stands clear of the blast zone.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Shouldn’t be too tough for a tough guy like you.”

Healy exhaled loudly. “You’re looking for a real fucking Christmas miracle.”

“Courtesy of the Massachusetts State Police.”

Healy stood up. “Look, let’s take this in steps. I’ll see what we’ve got on Alvarez, and whether there’s any interest. If not, I’ll forget I ever heard the name Street Business and head for the nearest wassail bowl. If there’s something to go on, we’ll move to step two. But best case, Alvarez goes down for something, we can’t ignore an unlicensed kids’ shelter in the middle of Boston. Something’s got to change there. You might want to think about how to solve that part.”

“I know,” I said. “Alvarez goes down, the funding for Street Business vaporizes anyway. I didn’t say it was a perfect plan.”

“It isn’t any plan yet,” said Healy. He walked over to the sink and rinsed out his mug.

“I really should start going to Dunkin’ Donuts for my coffee from now on, like a real cop,” he said.

“You’d miss the stimulating conversation,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Next time we can discuss Garfield.” He opened the door and left.

HEALY CALLED BACK the next morning.

“It’s your lucky day,” he said. “Turns out there’s a great deal of interest in your friend Mr. Alvarez.”

“From where?”

“The Feds have been looking at him for some time, for both drug and human trafficking. They’re so eager they’ve actually requested our cooperation. Both Middlesex and Suffolk County DA’s offices are in on it.”

“And they haven’t been able to nail him on anything?”

“No,” Healy said. “He’s apparently pretty slick. Covers his tracks well, and is well connected politically. Feeling is they may be running out of time.”

“Why’s that?”

“Those buildings you mentioned, downtown Boston? He just transferred title for all of them into a family trust. Prepaid his property taxes as well. Liquidated some other hard assets—stocks, bonds—into cash. And the word is that he moved out whoever or whatever has been in there around the same time.”

“When was this?”

“About a month ago.”

I thought for a moment. “About the time someone started hassling Street Business.”

“Now, it could just be a coincidence,” Healy said. “He could just be doing some year-end tax planning. But it’s also the kind of thing someone does when he’s about to disappear for a while.”

I considered the options. It could just be a coincidence, but thinking it was didn’t get me anywhere. “Moving people out doesn’t sound like tax planning. Any idea where the people or things got moved to?”

“No clue. There were eyes on the place, but apparently it’s so deserted it was tough to get close without being noticed. Happened pretty quick, most likely at night.”

“Raising cash sounds like he could be getting ready to bolt. Your sources have any thoughts on what he might be doing?”

“Not really, but could be he’s preparing to flee the jurisdiction. Guy with his kind of money and connections could just drop off the grid.”

“So now it’s time for step two.”

“Yes. Do you have a step two?”

“Not yet. It’s in progress.”

“I understand,” said Healy, getting up. “You got hung up on Garfield.”

“Can’t fool you,” I said. “I’ll call you when I’ve got a plan.”

CARMEN HAD GIVEN ME her cell phone number. I called her.

“I have some questions for you,” I said.

“I can’t talk now,” she said. Her voice was low and muffled. “Can you come out to Weston?”

“Yes,” I said. “When?”

“How about six tomorrow morning? I’m staying at Martita’s house. Our friend will be in Boston overnight and won’t be back until late morning.”

“Make sure you give the sentries a heads-up that I’m coming and that I’m friendly. Last time I visited, I almost got shot.”

“I heard about that,” Carmen said. “I think that guy is still looking for his rifle.”