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one will know. Keep that cell phone with you in case you need to reach us. I’ll call you tonight. When I do, don’t say anything over the phone about Erin by name. I’ll get any message across somehow. Do you understand all that?”
    â€œYes, Mike. Thank you, thank you. Is there anything else I can do?”
    â€œYou know the answer to that one, Colleen. And we’ll be praying with you.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    The most painful way possible for Mr. Devlin and myself to pass the next hour and a half was in enforced inaction. But given the need for secrecy and no promising leads, we had no choice. We each hunkered down behind any office work that could possibly absorb our attention while we waited for a call from Tom Burns.
    I used the time to do some computer research on the race that had taken Danny’s life. It was a sprint race over five furlongs, a little over half a mile, for two-year-olds, the youngest Thoroughbreds that can be raced.
    I checked out Danny’s mount, Black Diamond, on the
Daily Racing Form
site for any recorded workouts before that race. He had been bred in Ireland at a small Thoroughbred stable in Kildare. His bloodlines were not remarkable, and his training times even less so. He had never breezed the half mile in less than fifty-three seconds and change, which would not excite the most generous handicapper.
    He had been shipped to Rick McDonough’s stable at Suffolk Downs just two weeks before the race. Under Rick’s hand, he still couldn’t break fifty-three seconds for the half mile in a couple of morning breezes. It was no great surprise that he was a twenty-to-one long shot the day of the race.
    My office clock had just struck six when Julie buzzed me with the word that Tom Burns was on the line. I had her transfer it to Mr. D.’s office and sprinted down the hall to be there when he picked up. Mr. D. did the talking, but we listened together.
    â€œGentlemen, your intuition was on the button.”
    â€œMeaning what, Tom?”
    â€œThere was a tail waiting to follow her when she left the house. I tailed both of them to the roast beef sandwich place on Revere Beach Boulevard. She picked up a Coke, drank it on a bench, and went into the public women’s room. The tail and I both waited till she came out and we started the parade again back to her home.”
    I jumped in to set my mind at ease. “Tom, tell me the tail never spotted you.”
    â€œNo, Mikey. I won’t tell you that. Based on what you know about me, you should assume that without question.”
    â€œAssumed it is. What next?”
    â€œThe tail stayed on station a few houses down her street until a few minutes ago. A second car pulled up, apparently the relief shift. The first tail took off.”
    â€œAny idea where?”
    â€œThat’s why I need your instructions. I thought you’d want to know where he went. I’m traveling three cars behind the first tail now.”
    â€œYou guessed right. Stay with him. Get back to us as soon as he lights somewhere.”
    â€œWill do.”
    â€œTwo more things. I need a description of the tail you’re following and also the make of the car that’s at Colleen’s house now.”
    â€œRight, Mike. This guy is about six foot two. Looks trim, athletic. Sandy, curly hair. About thirty. Definitely Irish.”
    â€œTakes one to know one, right, Tom?”
    That brought my Irish senior partner’s eyebrows up a notch.
    â€œIn this case, a blind Swede could tell. Hang on a sec, gentlemen.”
    There was silence for about a minute and a half before Tom was back.
    â€œThe name of the tail I’m following is Vince Scully. He has a Southie address. You want it?”
    â€œYou’re golden, Tom. Shoot.”
    â€œFour twelve G Street. Not a bad neighborhood. A lot of classy renovation. If the Lincoln this guy’s driving is his own car, and I’m assuming it is, he makes a hefty income