The Guardian Read Online Free PDF Page B

summer place, Tommy.”
    “But this gentleman’s got trouble. I’d like to help him out.”
    The man shrugged. “So help him out. Five hundred K.”
    “That’s not enough,” Ross said.
    Datano looked up. “You got no other money?”
    “It’s worth five million—but at the very least we’ve got to have one million-five.”
    “ You say it’s worth five million,” the accountant said. “We don’t know that.”
    Ross pushed the assessment forward. “It’s not just my word.”
    He shrugged. “You think we’re Century 21?”
    Datano said, “Look, we don’t have that kind of cash sitting around either. It’s all tied up. Either take the five hundred and go make the balance some other way … or come back to see me before it’s too late.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Good luck with your little niece.”
    The interview was over.
     
    Ross had never been to Crockett’s apartment in South Boston. Although Crockett had been Ross’s best friend inside, he’d never planned to be looking for anyone from Concord again. And he felt a little guilty about that, standing outside Crockett’s building.
    The place was an old brownstone that had been renovated years ago; the foyer walls were cheap wooden paneling, the floor littered with takeout-food paper bags and cigarette butts. There was no answer when Ross sounded the buzzer. But a moment later, he saw Crockett standing on top of the landing looking down through the glass.
    Crockett opened the door. “Any luck?”
    “Not enough.”
    Crockett grunted. “Little bastard.” They went up to Crockett’s apartment, a spartan clean room overlooking the street. Crockett went right to the stove. “I was just fixing myself a late breakfast. You want some?”
    Ross said no.
    Crockett nodded at the phone in Ross’s hand. “Any word?”
    Ross shook his head.
    “So tell me what happened to her, in detail.” Crockett shifted his false teeth as he listened. He was in his midforties, with prematurely white hair. He showed no emotion throughout the story, but when Ross mentioned the eight o’clock deadline, Crockett checked his watch. He served himself breakfast, and before he began to eat, he said, “So what do you want from me?”
    “First, do you have any ideas … do you think someone we knew in Concord might’ve coming looking for my family?”
    Crockett chewed his toast. “I dunno. It happens sometimes, extortion. You knew about that guy, Gilchrist?”
    Ross frowned. “Vaguely.”
    “This was over in Walpole, not Concord. About a year ago, a guy was telling me about it. Gilchrist’s wife was a looker. Used to show up to visit him wearing tank tops, tight jeans. Guess they sent her away a few times, not wanting her going in like that. But she came back, dressed a little quieter, but still, she couldn’t hide herself that much, you know? Real pretty—blond hair, blue eyes, right out of a magazine. Gilchrist was in for embezzlement, and they started hitting him up, saying they’d hurt her.”
    “Who’s ‘they’?”
    “Got me. Just the word around. Gilchrist went around whining that he was broke; he didn’t have anything to give. He’d tell that to whoever listened. He didn’t know for sure who else was in on it. Word was they got to her. Rape, battery acid. She didn’t come around no more.”
    Ross shook his head, trying to clear the image. “I keep thinking about Teague.”
    “Yuh. I got a note a while back from Reece. He said you had some problems. And that was for the way Teague was running on and on about your niece, right?”
    “That’s right.”
    “How big was the guy, did your brother say?”
    “He was taller and thinner than Teague.”
    Crockett shrugged. “Guess he could’ve sent someone else in if you want to look at it that way. But this snatch you described, it sounds random, right?”
    “It does. But like you said, things like this do happen sometimes. And Teague and I got into that fight over what he’d said about