”Which one shot at us last night?“ I said.
Harry swatted at my face. I ignored it and leaned my hand in against his windpipe. ”Which one?“
He pointed at Shelley. I dropped Harry and he slid down the wall and sat gasping on the floor. I turned toward Shelley. ”If you can get past me,“ I said, ”Hawk won’t shoot. You’re out of here free.“
Shelley and two others stood motionless against the wall in the repair section. Hawk with his gun steady and relaxed stood in front of them. There were three pistols on the floor. Shelley looked at Hawk. Hawk shrugged. ”Okay by me, Shell. You ain’t gonna make it by him anyway.“
”Yeah, if I win you shoot me.“
”You don’t try and I shoot you now,“ Hawk said.
One of the other two men was Buddy Hartman. I said to him, ”Buddy, take your pal and beat it. You ever come near me or anyone I know, I’ll kill you.“
Buddy nodded. His companion was a lean, dark, handsome man with the dark-blue shadow of a recently shaven heavy beard. His companion nodded too and they went past me and out the door of the gas station and down the street, walking fast without looking back. Hawk shook his head. ”Should have burned them,“ he said.
Shelley stared after the two men who had gotten out. Then he lunged toward me, trying for the door. He weighed more than I did and the force of his lunge pushed me back against the doorjamb. I got a short uppercut in under his jaw and straightened him up with it slightly. Hawk leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed, the revolver still in his right hand. To my left, Harry Cotton was inching along toward his desk. I hit Shelley again under the jaw, and he stepped back and swung at me. I shrugged my shoulder up and took the punch on it. I hit Shelley four times, three lefts and a right in the face. He stumbled back, blood rushing from his nose. I hit him another flurry. He stumbled, waved an arm at me, and backed into Harry’s desk. His hands dropped. I hit him one big left hook and a haymaker right hand and he went backward over the desk and hit the swivel chair. It broke under his weight and he lay still on the floor with one foot still on the desk. Harry was trying to get the gun I’d knocked away from him. It was partly under Shelley’s body. I took a step around the desk and kicked Harry in the neck. He fell backward and made a swacking noise. I stood over him.
I said, ”Never come near anybody I know. Never send anybody else. You understand me?“
Hawk said, ”Ain’t good enough. You gotta kill him.“
”That right, Harry? Do I? Do I have to kill you?“
Harry shook his head. He made a croaking sound.
”You gotta kill him,“ Hawk said.
I stepped away from Harry. ”Remember what I told you,“ I said.
Hawk said, ”Spenser, you a goddamned fool.“
”I can’t kill a man lying there on the floor,“ I said.
Hawk shook his head, spit through the open door into the repair bay, and shot Harry in the middle of the forehead.
”I can,“ he said.
CHAPTER 32
Mel Giacomin’s office was on a side street just off Reading Square. It was a private home that had been remodeled as an office. The secretarial pool sat out front in a big open room, and Mel and a couple of other men had private offices down the hall. Past Mel’s office was the kitchen, which had been left intact, and there were cups and a box of doughnuts and instant coffee and Cremora on the kitchen table. Mel was in there drinking coffee when I showed up.
”What the hell do you want?“ he said.
”Clever repartee,“ I said.
”What?“
”I want to talk about fire insurance,“ I said.
”I don’t want to sell you any.“
”It’s about fire insurance you’ve already sold, like to Elaine Brooks.“
Mel looked at me. He opened his mouth and closed it. ”I didn’t…“ he started. ”I…“ A woman with red hair in a frizz came into the kitchen. She wore a lime-green sweater and a pair of white pants that had been tight when she was ten pounds lighter.
”Let’s talk in your office,“ I said.
Giacomin nodded and I followed him next door. We went in. He shut the door.
”What do you want?“ he said when he got behind his desk. He was wearing a tan glen plaid three-piece suit and a blue-figured tie and a white shirt with light tan-and-blue double stripes in it. The vest gapped two inches at the waist, revealing belt buckle and shirt.
”I’ll make it short,“ I said. ”I know the arson scam. And I can prove it.“
”What are you talking about?“
I took out the copy of my arson file memo and put it on his desk.
”Read this,“ I said.
He read it over quickly. I noticed that his lips moved very slightly as he read. Then his lips stopped. He was through reading it, but he kept staring down at the paper. Finally, without looking up, he said, ”So?“
”So I got you,“ I said.
He kept staring at the paper. ”You tell the cops?“
”Not yet.“
”You tell anybody?“
”Don’t even think about that,“ I said. ”You don’t have a chance against me, and even if you did, note that you’re looking at a copy.“
”You want a piece of the action?“
I grinned, ”Now you are catching on.“
”How much?“
”It’ll vary.“
He looked up. ”What do you mean?“
”It means I want two things. I want you to stay away from your kid, and I want you to pay for his support, his schooling, whatever he needs.“
”Stay away?“
”Relinquish, leave alone, get off the back of, fill in your own phrase. I want him free of you.“
”And send him money?“
”Yes.“
”That’s all?“
”Yes.“
”Nothing for you?“
”No.“
”How much I gotta send him?“
”Tuition, room, board, expenses.“
”How much will that be?“
”We’ll let you know.“
”I mean I’m not made of money, you know?“
I stood up and leaned over the desk. ”Listen to me, Rat Shit, you’re talking like you could bargain. You can’t. You do what I say or you take a big fall. Two people died in one of those fires. Homicide in the commission of a felony is murder one“
”I didn’t…“
I hit the desk with the palm of my hand and leaned a little closer so my face was about three inches from his. ”Don’t bullshit, you keep saying didn’t to me and you’ll be down to Walpole doing the jailhouse rock for the rest of your goddamned life. Don’t didn’t me, creep.“ Not bad, me and Kirk Douglas. I wondered if the palm slamming was overacting.
It wasn’t. He folded like a camp chair. ”Okay, okay. Sure. I’ll go for it. It’s a good deal.“
”You bet your ass it’s a good deal,“ I said. ”And if you don’t stick to your end of it, you’ll boogie on down to Walpole faster than you can say first degree murder. And, I may stick my thumb in your eye before you leave.“
”Okay,“ he said. ”Okay. How much you want to start?“
”I’ll bill you,“ I said. ”And if you think when I leave you can call Harry Cotton and have me taken away, you are going to be disappointed.“
”I wasn’t thinking that,“ Giacomin said.
”Bills are due upon receipt,“ I said.