Family Honor (1999) by Robert B - Sunny Randall 01 Parker

Author:Robert B - Sunny Randall 01 Parker [Parker, Robert B - Sunny Randall 01]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-03-15T17:30:22.515000+00:00

"You lent Terry Nee to somebody, didn't you?" Richie said softly.

Bucko was silent. I knew what was going on. He was trying to decide who he wanted mad at him. Richie's family, or the man who'd sent Terry Nee. He looked around the restaurant.

"Your word, you don't tell him where you got it?" Bucko said.

The devil who has hold of your forearm is better than the devil who's not around.

"My word," Richie said.

"Me too," I said.

"Cathal Kragan," Bucko said.

I looked at Richie. Richie shrugged.

"Who's Cathal Kragan," I said.

"Guy," Bucko said.

I opened my mouth. Richie shook his head so briefly that I was sure only I had seen him. We waited.

"He represents some people," Bucko said. "I don't know who they are. But I see him around and I owe him a favor and he says he needs a little scuffle work done, nothing heavy, couple broads. And I say I can put him in touch with Terry and he says fine and so I do."

Bucko sat back as if he'd just said three Hail Marys and made a good Act of Contrition.

"Where do we find Cathal?" Richie said.

"He's around," Bucko said. "You know?"

"Can you get in touch with him?" I said.

Bucko shook his head.

"You know who he works for?" I said.

Bucko shook his head.

"But you're scared of them?"

"Don't know nothing about them," Bucko said. "I'm scared of Cathal."

"What's he look like?" I said.

"Thick," Bucko said. "Like me, a little shorter, gray hair. Got hands like a stonemason. Funny voice." "Funny how?"

"I don't know exactly. It's real deep." Richie took his hand of Bucko's forearm. "My Uncle Ernie will be glad to hear you were helpful," Richie said.

"Give him my best," Bucko said. "Your father, too." "Sure," Richie said.

We stood. Richie dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the table.

"No, no, Richie," Bucko said. "I got it."

Richie took my arm and we walked away without answering.

"You ever hear of Cathal Kragan?" I said in the car.

"Nope."

We were crossing the Charlestown Bridge. "What kind of name is Cathal?" I said.

"Irish," Richie said. "There was a guy during the troubles named Cathal Brugha."

"How do you know that?" I said.

"I read a book."

"Well," I said. "Good for you."

And we laughed together as we passed the Fleet Center and Richie turned right onto Causeway Street.

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