and barrel-bodied. He was wearing the ugliest wig I’ve ever seen. It looked like an auburn Dynel ski cap that he’d pulled down over his ears. His partner was taller and not as bulky. He had a boot camp crew cut and a navy watch cap rolled up so that it looked like a sloppy yarmulke.
The short one said, “Where’s the kid?”
The tall one looked at me and said, “Spenser. Nobody told me about you in this.”
I said, “How are you, Buddy?”
The short one said, “Who’s he?”
Buddy said, “He’s a private cop. Name’s Spenser. You working, Spenser?”
I said, “Yes.”
“They didn’t tell me you’d be here.”
“Mel didn’t know, Buddy. It’s not Mel’s fault.”
“I didn’t say anything about no Mel,” Buddy said.
“Aw, come on, Buddy, don’t be a jerk. Who the hell else would send you for the kid?”
The short one said, “Never mind all the crap. Parade the fucking kid out here.”
I said to Buddy, “Who’s your friend with his head in a bag?”
Buddy made a very small smile.
The short one said, “What the hell’s that remark supposed to mean, douchebag?”
“It means you look like you’re wearing an Astroturf bathing cap for a rug. Funniest looking rug I’ve ever seen.”
“Keep running your mouth, douchebag, and we’ll see how funny you are.”
Buddy said, “Be cool, Harold.” To me he said, “We come to take the kid back to his old man. We didn’t know you’d be here, but that don’t change the plan.”
I said, “No.”
“No, we can’t take him back? Or no, it don’t change the plan,” Buddy said.
“No, you can’t take him back,” I said.
Harold pulled a black woven leather sap from his hip pocket and tapped it gently against the palm of his hand.
“I’ll enjoy this,” he said. And I hit him a stiff left jab on his nose, turning my body sideways as I threw the punch to get all of me into it and to make a smaller target. The blood spurted out of Harold’s nose and he staggered three steps backward, flailing his arms for balance. The blackjack hit a table lamp and smashed it Harold got his balance. He held one hand against the blood coming from his nose and shook his head once as if there were a fly in his ear.
Buddy shrugged a little sadly. Harold came back at me and I hit him the same jab, same place, a littleharder. It sat him down. Blood was all over his face and shirt.
“Jesus Christ, Buddy” he said. “Jump in. He can’t take two of us.”
“Yeah, he can,” Buddy said. Harold started to get up. His legs were wobbly. Buddy said, “Leave it alone, Harold. He’ll kill you if you try again.”
Harold was on his feet, trying to keep his nose from bleeding. He still held the blackjack in his right hand, but he didn’t seem to remember that. He looked confused.
I said, “That’s what you brought for muscle, Buddy?”
Buddy shrugged. “He’d have been all right for the broad,” he said. “He does good with barbers and car salesmen that get a little behind on the vig.” Buddy spread his hands.
“How come Mel didn’t come himself?”
“I don’t know no Mel.”
“Come on, Buddy. You want to discuss unlawful entry and assault with the Lexington cops?”
“What are they going to do, beat the shit out of me with a Minuteman?”
“Jail is jail is jail, babe. Don’t matter who put you there. How long since you and Harold summered at Walpole?”
“How about we just walk out of here,” Harold said. His voice was thick. He had a handkerchief wadded against his nose.
I reached around and took my gun out of its hip holster. I showed it to both of them. I smiled.
Buddy said, “So we know Mel. We thought we’d do him a favor. He heard that his old lady had hired some private cop to be a bodyguard. We figured we come get the kid for him. We didn’t know it was you.We figured it would be some stiff that used to be a bank guard. Hell, we didn’t even bring a piece.”
“How you happen to know Mel, Buddy?”
Buddy shrugged
The short one said, “Where’s the kid?”
The tall one looked at me and said, “Spenser. Nobody told me about you in this.”
I said, “How are you, Buddy?”
The short one said, “Who’s he?”
Buddy said, “He’s a private cop. Name’s Spenser. You working, Spenser?”
I said, “Yes.”
“They didn’t tell me you’d be here.”
“Mel didn’t know, Buddy. It’s not Mel’s fault.”
“I didn’t say anything about no Mel,” Buddy said.
“Aw, come on, Buddy, don’t be a jerk. Who the hell else would send you for the kid?”
The short one said, “Never mind all the crap. Parade the fucking kid out here.”
I said to Buddy, “Who’s your friend with his head in a bag?”
Buddy made a very small smile.
The short one said, “What the hell’s that remark supposed to mean, douchebag?”
“It means you look like you’re wearing an Astroturf bathing cap for a rug. Funniest looking rug I’ve ever seen.”
“Keep running your mouth, douchebag, and we’ll see how funny you are.”
Buddy said, “Be cool, Harold.” To me he said, “We come to take the kid back to his old man. We didn’t know you’d be here, but that don’t change the plan.”
I said, “No.”
“No, we can’t take him back? Or no, it don’t change the plan,” Buddy said.
“No, you can’t take him back,” I said.
Harold pulled a black woven leather sap from his hip pocket and tapped it gently against the palm of his hand.
“I’ll enjoy this,” he said. And I hit him a stiff left jab on his nose, turning my body sideways as I threw the punch to get all of me into it and to make a smaller target. The blood spurted out of Harold’s nose and he staggered three steps backward, flailing his arms for balance. The blackjack hit a table lamp and smashed it Harold got his balance. He held one hand against the blood coming from his nose and shook his head once as if there were a fly in his ear.
Buddy shrugged a little sadly. Harold came back at me and I hit him the same jab, same place, a littleharder. It sat him down. Blood was all over his face and shirt.
“Jesus Christ, Buddy” he said. “Jump in. He can’t take two of us.”
“Yeah, he can,” Buddy said. Harold started to get up. His legs were wobbly. Buddy said, “Leave it alone, Harold. He’ll kill you if you try again.”
Harold was on his feet, trying to keep his nose from bleeding. He still held the blackjack in his right hand, but he didn’t seem to remember that. He looked confused.
I said, “That’s what you brought for muscle, Buddy?”
Buddy shrugged. “He’d have been all right for the broad,” he said. “He does good with barbers and car salesmen that get a little behind on the vig.” Buddy spread his hands.
“How come Mel didn’t come himself?”
“I don’t know no Mel.”
“Come on, Buddy. You want to discuss unlawful entry and assault with the Lexington cops?”
“What are they going to do, beat the shit out of me with a Minuteman?”
“Jail is jail is jail, babe. Don’t matter who put you there. How long since you and Harold summered at Walpole?”
“How about we just walk out of here,” Harold said. His voice was thick. He had a handkerchief wadded against his nose.
I reached around and took my gun out of its hip holster. I showed it to both of them. I smiled.
Buddy said, “So we know Mel. We thought we’d do him a favor. He heard that his old lady had hired some private cop to be a bodyguard. We figured we come get the kid for him. We didn’t know it was you.We figured it would be some stiff that used to be a bank guard. Hell, we didn’t even bring a piece.”
“How you happen to know Mel, Buddy?”
Buddy shrugged
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