Skinny jumped on my back, screaming.

I bent at the waist and tossed him over my shoulders. He skidded a few feet on the concrete floor and fumbled for a gun. My .38 was already out and aimed dead center at his forehead.

I held out my hand. He gave me the gun, a Glock. Very unoriginal.

“You tell Red Cahill I want to meet.”

I tossed a business card down at Moon. He was thumbing at his bleeding mouth and still trying to look tough. It was hard to look tough lying flat on your ass.

“You son of a bitch piece of shit,” Mattie said. Her cheeks were flushed bright red. She rushed forward like she wanted to get a few kicks in.

I grabbed her elbow. “Easy.”

“You son of a bitch,” she said. “You killed her. I saw you.”

I pulled her toward the door. She was stronger than she looked.

I kept a hand on her upper arm, my .38 still loose in my other hand, as we walked to the car and crawled inside. She played with the ends of her hair under her pink cap. Her hands shook.

I cranked up the heat. A line of cars parked along Dorchester were still covered in snow. I pulled out and drove back toward the McCormack Housing Projects. Mattie sat quietly beside me for a moment before she asked, “Why didn’t you ask him anything? Isn’t that what you do?”

“Believe it or not, this is my own special strategy,” I said. “He wouldn’t have answered anyway. This was about making my presence known in Southie.”

“I guess you did that.”

“Yep.”

“They’ll come for me, won’t they?”

“Nope,” I said. “They’ll come for me. I’ll find someone to watch your family. Just in case.”

“And how does that help us nail those bastards?” she said.

“It’s easier when you can get the bad guys to come to you,” I said. “And I’m ready for them.”

My right hand was swelling as it gripped the steering wheel. I felt a mouse forming under my eye. “I just keep circling, waiting for an opening.”

“Jesus, I don’t want ’em to kill you, too.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That would be nice.”

14

I stopped off at Broadway Market on Harvard Square, stocked up on some booze, and let myself into Susan’s Victorian on Linnaean Street. She still had a half hour of shrinking left, and I passed the time in Pearl’s company. I drank. Pearl the Wonder Dog worked on the head of a rubber chicken. It squeaked, which made Pearl very happy.

I dropped some ice cubes into a glass, added some bitters, and then added a good measure of Wild Turkey. I hadn’t had much bourbon in a while, sticking with scotch. But somehow I thought the return appropriate.

I dropped several more handfuls of ice in a champagne bucket and covered it in water. I took my bourbon and the ice bucket to the kitchen table, where I soaked my knuckles and drank. Pearl tilted her head, studying my bruised face. I thought I spotted concern in her amber eyes. We sat together for a long while, listening to the silence of the house, punctuated by the occasional creaks that would come through the old wood in the wind, and the brittle sound of sleet against the glass.

And then footsteps.

“You want a steak for that eye?” Susan asked. She removed her diamond earrings and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“That seems like a terrible waste of a steak.”

“How about an ice pack?”

“Aren’t you going to say, ‘Tough day at the office?’” I said.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Don’t you get tired of listening to problems?”

“I am handsomely paid for my professional services.”

“I’m a nonpaying client.”

“There may be ways to bring your account into good standing.”

“Hot damn.”

She was still dressed in her professional duds, a black wool crepe wrap dress, tied at the waist, and black tights. She wore a strand of small pearls and a thin gold chain. She kicked off her black leather pumps, knocking her down a few inches.

She patted Pearl’s head. And then she patted mine.

“You might say, ‘That must have hurt,’ and then I’d say, ‘You should see the other fella.’”

“How’s the other fella?” Susan asked.

“Pissed off.”

“And that’s bad?”

“That’s bad.”

“You want to order a pizza?”

“Read my mind.”

“You don’t look to be in a cooking mood.”

“I’m in a drinking mood.”

Susan freshened my drink, then let her black hair down from the chignon at her neck. I loved to watch her hair spill over her shoulders. I studied the construction of the wrap dress.

“So one tug on that little sash?” I asked.

“And the dress comes off, palooka.”

“Yippee.”

She found an open bottle of white in the fridge and joined me at the kitchen table. Pearl rested her head in Susan’s lap.

“How’s the kid?” she asked.

“Tough but scared,” I said. “Someone ran her off the road this morning. I tried to stick around. But she wanted to be back with her sisters and didn’t care for me to be a houseguest.”

“Can you call someone?”

“I know a patrolman in Southie who’s going to check up on the family,” I said. “It’s not much. But it’s something.”

“What about Hawk?”

“Hawk in Southie?”

“He may stand out.”

“Hawk stands out everywhere,” I said. “Besides, I may need him.”

“What happened?” she asked.

I told her.

“Your charm failed with Shirley.”

“And with Moon.”

“So now they know you’re onto them.”

“They knew anyway,” I said. “The kid had been asking around. She’s got a hard head.”

“Which you respect.”

“Nice trait to have,” I said. “But I wish she’d tone it down a bit. She could get hurt.”

“I don’t think Mattie has a choice,” Susan said. “Didn’t you say her mother was largely absent before her death?”

“Depends on what period of her life,” I said. “She would go through periods of sobriety and then hit rock bottom.”

“And Mattie has two sisters and a grandmother?”

I nodded again. “The grandmother is there because she’s the only family available but not exactly a role model. She’s a lush. When I tried to talk to her, she was passed out.”

“Father?”

“When I asked, Mattie laughed like it was a stupid question.”

“And it’s ridiculous to ask why the system has failed her?”

“If the system worked, I’d be out of a job.”

“You’re working for the classic parental child,” Susan said. “Probably thought she could assume her mother’s role when her mother was out drunk or high. And when her mother was killed, she believes she failed. Now she has to make it right.”

“Like a do-over.”

“Exactly like a do-over. She would see her mother as a failure, in life and death,” Susan said. “Of course, I’m only making a guess based on what you’ve told me. But an educated guess. The most important thing to her right now is righting the past and keeping her family together.”

I nodded.

“It has a lot to do with self-esteem.” Susan shook her head. “So now you think Red and Moon will come for you instead.”

“Yep.”

I drank some bourbon. I heard it fortified courage and resourcefulness.

“You think they’ll try to kill you?”

“I think they’ll try to discourage me.”

“And these are some pretty tough guys?”

“I have to say I was not impressed with Moon,” I said. “I’ll reserve judgment on Red Cahill. I heard he was pretty good with his fists and a gun.”

“And Gerry Broz?”

“I don’t think he’s involved in this,” I said. “This happened four years ago.”

“But they work for him now.”

“Yep.”

“And he doesn’t like you.”

“Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me that I’m the toughest man alive and I do what I do because I’m a man among men?”

Susan rolled her eyes and took a sip of wine. “I don’t think there are any esteem issues with you,” she said. “Mushrooms and black olives?”