Rough Weather: A Spenser Novel

sorts of expertise. We are sort of legal triage for her; we field her problems, solve them when it’s our area, find the right people to solve them if it’s another area.”
    “Which is how you got to me,” I said.
    “We respect Rita’s recommendation, and may I say, hers for you was absolutely glowing.”
    “And richly deserved,” I said. “Why did Heidi want someone in the first place?”
    Jimmy did several noncommittal things with his head, shoulders, and hands.
    “Heidi is Heidi,” he said.
    “I noticed that,” I said. “What did she say she wanted someone for?”
    “Goddamn,” Jimmy said. “I’m sorry. But I can’t … you know, privilege and all that.”
    “How did she phrase her request to you?” I said.
    “Geez,” Jimmy said, “you were there, weren’t you, for all the trouble.”
    “I was,” I said.
    “God, I’m sorry. What a tragedy.”
    “How did she ask for the someone that turned out to be me?” I said.
    “God, Spenser, I’m sorry. I really am,” Jimmy said. “Rita told me about you when she called to say you’d be coming by.”
    “That I was articulate and charming?”
    “She said that you wouldn’t let it alone. That since you were there you’d take it personal and all that. I know you are just trying to find Adelaide.”
    “I am,” I said.
    “But I can’t talk about clients, you know? I start doing that, how many do I have left after a while?”
    I nodded.
    “So you probably won’t fill me in on her marriages, her relationships with her ex-husbands, her relationship with her daughter, her son-in-law, his family, her financial circumstances, her sex life, her social life. Friends? Booze? Drugs? Gamble? Debt?”
    “Oh my God, no,” Jimmy said. “Jesus … no comment. No fucking comment.”
    I nodded.
    “Rita said you asked for someone smart, tough, and presentable,” I said.
    Jimmy recovered from his horror sufficiently to smile self-effacingly.
    “The firm’s language,” he said.
    “But I assume she didn’t ask for stupid, fearful, and repellent,” I said.
    “We tried to rephrase her accurately,” Jimmy said. “Obviously, you’re the kind of guy she had in mind.”
    “And wasn’t I useful,” I said.
    “I’m sure you did what you could,” Jimmy said. “One man …”
    I nodded.
    “And you had your girlfriend to look out for,” Jimmy said.
    I nodded. Apparently, Jimmy knew more than he pretended to about the stormy night on Tashtego.
    “You arrange the Tashtego security patrol?” I said.
    “We located the proper company for her, and made the deal.”
    “What’s the company?”
    Jimmy thought about it for a moment, and decided it was not in violation of his sacred honor to tell me.
    “Absolute Security,” he said. “In Providence.”
    “Who do I talk to?”
    “Artie Fonseca,” Jimmy said. “He’s the CEO.”
    “Who might want something like this to happen?” I said.
    “The killing, the kidnapping? I assume some psychopath thought he could make some money.”
    I shook my head.
    “I know the guy who ran the operation,” I said. “He probablywouldn’t do a kidnapping for money. There are a lot of easier ways. And if he did do a kidnapping for money, he wouldn’t do it this way. Helicopters, for crissake?”
    “You think somebody hired him?”
    “I do.”
    “Who on earth …?”
    “My question exactly,” I said.

 
    “I lost four guys,” Fonseca said.
    “Sorry about that,” I said.
    “I don’t like it,” Fonseca said. “Losing people.”
    “It’s tough,” I said.
    “I don’t like it,” he said.
    He was a spare, middle-sized man with a shaved head and a big mustache. He looked in shape.
    “Tell me about the operation,” I said.
    “The patrol?”
    “The patrol,” I said. “The company. Anything that might be useful.”
    “We do business around the country. Rich, low-profile people mostly, estate security, bodyguards … you know.”
    “Heidi Bradshaw is hardly low-profile.”
    “Her money’s as good as if she were,” Fonseca said.
    “Do any investigation?”
    “Nope, strictly protection,” Fonseca said.
    “Ever run into anything like this before?” I said.
    “No.”
    “How’d it work?” I said.
    “Tashtego? Three four-man patrols plus a supervisor. When the guys got killed it was the second shift. Two Jeeps. Two guys in a Jeep. Radio. Sidearms. One shotgun per Jeep. Locked in a mount.”
    “Supervisor?” I said.
    “No. He only works during the day. Senior guy was in