Robert B. Parker's Kickback (Spenser Book 28) by Ace Atkins

Author:Ace Atkins [Atkins, Ace]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

28

Since he’d split with Gino Fish, Vinnie Morris had kept an office on the second floor of a bowling alley on the Concord Turnpike. When we walked in, a fat guy wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shiny shoes nodded us to an open staircase. I’d been there before. The alley hadn’t changed its décor since the Beatles appeared on Ed Sullivan. The upstairs promised an exciting lounge with nightly entertainment. Now it was a storage area filled floor-to-ceiling with boxes. I didn’t know what was inside the boxes, nor would I ask.

Vinnie waited for us at the landing.

He didn’t look pleased to see me. We’d had a falling-out the year before over a hidden interest in a casino slated for Revere. He nodded to me. I nodded back. Civil.

Vinnie looked good. He’d given up the baggy tracksuits for his preppy look of old. His salt-and-pepper hair had been expertly trimmed. He wore a three-piece gray suit and black tie that made him look more Beacon Hill than North End. A smile crept on his face as he tossed a half-dollar into the air and nodded.

“I thought George Raft was dead,” I said.

“Heard you were dead, too,” Vinnie said. “Some Puerto Rican gangbangers after you.”

“Cape Verdean,” I said.

“Whatever,” Vinnie said. “Hello, Hawk.”

“Vinnie.”

They shook hands. Vinnie didn’t offer to shake my hand. He turned his back and walked to an old-fashioned U-shaped bar. Stools had been put up upside down. The beer taps didn’t have handles. Neon signs for cheap beer flickered with delight.

“What time is the show?” I said.

“Up here?” Vinnie said.

“Yeah.”

“Nineteen sixty-five.”

“So noted.”

Vinnie reached up and pulled down three bar stools and righted them on the floor. The only light upstairs shone from the strategically placed neon beer signs. There was a painted mural on the far wall of a ball hitting a strike, pins flying in the air.

“I guess you ain’t here to talk about the old days.”

Hawk and I sat. Hawk on my right. Vinnie on my left.

“Arty Leblanc,” Hawk said.

“Oh, shit.”

“Is that a nickname or an alias?” I said.

“What the fuck are you guys doing with Arty Leblanc? He’s a freakin’ head case. Did you hear about the garden-hose thing?”

“His reputation has preceded him,” I said.

“Stuck it right up this guy’s keister and turned up the water pressure,” Vinnie said. “He’s nuts.”

“So he’s not your employee,” I said.

“Employee?” he said. “What kind of business am I running? The menswear department at Sears?”

“Not in that suit,” Hawk said.

“You like it?” Vinnie said, looking down at his sleeve, admiring the fabric.

Hawk shrugged. “Needs a better tie,” he said. “To make it pop.”

Vinnie walked behind the bar and uncorked a bottle of grappa. He pulled out three small glasses and lined them on top of the dusty bar.

“Feeling nostalgic?” I said.

Vinnie shrugged. “It’s a gesture,” he said. “Remember when that meant something?”

I nodded. Vinnie poured. He raised his glass. We did the same.

“Doesn’t mean we’re good,” Vinnie said, giving me the eye. “Unnerstand?”

“Arty,” I said. “Leblanc.”

Vinnie drank down the grappa. I sipped mine.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.