Spenser 06 - Looking for Rachel Wallace by Robert B. Parker

Author:Robert B. Parker [Parker B., Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-56970-7
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-09-22T00:00:00+00:00

18

I WENT OUT to Arlington Street and turned left and walked down to Boylston eating my Winesap apple. On Boylston Street there were lots of Christmas decorations and pictures of Santa Claus and a light, pleasant snow falling. I wondered if Rachel Wallace could see the snow from where she was. Tis the season to be jolly. If I had stayed with her.…I shook my head. Hard. No point to that. It probably wasn’t much more unpleasant to be kidnaped in the Christmas season than any other time. I hadn’t stayed with her. And thinking I should have wouldn’t help find her. Got to concentrate on the priority items, babe. Got to think about finding her. Automatically, as I went by Brentano’s, I stopped and looked in the window at the books. I didn’t have much hope for Manfred—he was mean and bigoted and stupid. Cosgrove was none of those things, but he was a working reporter on a liberal newspaper. Anything he found out, he’d have to stumble over. No one was going to tell him.

I finished my apple and dropped the core in a trash basket attached to a lamp post. I looked automatically in Malben’s window at the fancy food. Then I could cross and see what new Japanese food was being done at Hai Hai, then back this side and stare at the clothes in Louis, perhaps stop off at the Institute of Contemporary Art. Then I could go home and take a nap. Shit. I walked back to my office and got my car and drove to Belmont.

The snow wasn’t sticking as I went along Storrow Drive, and it was early afternoon with no traffic. On my right the Charles was very black and cold-looking. Along the river people jogged in their winter running clothes. A very popular model was long johns under shorts, with a hooded sweatshirt and blue New Balance shoes with white trim. I preferred a cutoff sweat shirt over black turtleneck sweater, with blue warm-up pants to match the New Balance 320’s. Diversity. It made America great.

I crossed the Charles to the Cambridge side near Mt. Auburn Hospital and drove through a slice of Cambridge through Watertown, out Belmont Street to Belmont. The snow was beginning to collect as I pulled into a Mobil station on Trapelo Road and got directions to the Belmont Police Station on Concord Avenue.

I explained to the desk sergeant who I was, and he got so excited at one point that he glanced up at me for a moment before he went back to writing in a spiral notebook.

“I’m looking for one of your patrol car people. Young guy, twenty-five, twenty-six. Five ten, hundred eighty pounds, very cocky, wears military decorations on his uniform blouse. Probably eats raw wolverine for breakfast.”

Without looking up the desk sergeant said, “That’d be Foley. Wise mouth.”

“Man’s gotta make his mark somehow,” I said. “Where do I find him?”

The sergeant looked at something official under the counter. “He’s cruising up near the reservoir,” he said.

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