The Whale's Footprints - Rick Boyer (23 page)

Brooks glanced over his shoulder at the big man
sitting on the bench, who was watching our every move from behind
those shades. I could tell.

"My client's assistant is fully licensed to
carry a firearm to insure the safety of my client," said Brooks,
snapping open the latches of his brown case. "If necessary, I
can produce the authorizations for Rhode Island and the Commonwealth
of Mass—"

"
That won't be necessary," said Joe,
holding up his hand. "But you might tell Boris Karloff over
there that he needn't be so obvious about it. We can see the bulge
under his arm from way over here. Now, you must be Mr. Falcone,
right?"

He shook hands with the kid, and the rest of us shook
hands all around. Eddie Falcone's eyes lit up when he came face to
face with Mary. I suppose it was a compliment to both of us, but
still, it pissed me off.

"Can you take a ride with us, Eddie?" asked
Keegan. "We'd like to show you something?

"
My client is here voluntarily, on a goodwill
basis only," spouted Brooks, "he is not here for an
interrogation or—"

"It's okay Marshall, I'll go for a ride. My car
or yours, gentlemen?"

"Ours," said Keegan.

"Why not his?" said Mary. "Can I ride
in his car?"

Keegan and Joe glared at her. Sensing the
predicament, I quietly told Mary it would be better to go in Joe's
car.

"But we can't all fit in, can we?" she
said.

"We'll let them follow us then," said Paul.

"I'd love you to ride with us," Eddie said
to Mary. "I really would. And we can watch TV on the way."

"Thanks, Eddie, but my sister would really
rather—"

"That's okay Joey; I'll ride with him."

"Mary!"

I yanked her aside, away from all the onlookers.

"
What the hell do you mean, 'I'll ride with
him?' Don't you know he's the enemy? He could be responsible for
Andy's death, for Chrissakes, what do—"

"Aw c'mon, Charliel" she hissed, flinging
my arm away. "You guys think you're so tough, threatening him
like that. Can't you see he's only a kid?"

"Yeah, a punk kid. A connected kid—"

"Listen: I bet I find out three times as much
from him as you guys do. There's more than one way to get
information, you know. Or maybe you guys don't know . . . "

"I think it's a dumb idea."

"
What's he going to do, attack me in his car
while he's got a police escort? Look, I want to get to the bottom of
this and clear Jackie just as much as you do. Remember that. Now lay
off"'

I knew I couldn't change her mind, so I stood and
watched while she and Eddie Falcone tripped down the stairs and along
the sidewalk to the Cadillac Eldorado, followed by lawyer Brooks, who
hurried ahead of them to open the rear door and see them safely
inside, then got in the front seat next to Baby Huey, who was
starting the engine.

"Sis is a pain in the ass sometimes,"
growled Joe. "Paul, where are we going, anyway?"

Keegan directed us out of the center of town onto
Sippiwissett Road, which we followed almost a mile, past some of the
plushest real estate in New England, until we stopped at a quiet
intersection. There, standing solitary as Minot's Ledge lighthouse,
was a phone booth. Keegan pointed to it.

"There, Doc. That's the phone we traced the
number to. That's the phone Andy placed the call to the night he
died, just before he went out for his two-hour ramble in the rain."

"Well hell, he couldn't have come all the way
here on foot."

"No. He called somebody who was here, waiting
for his call. Then that somebody drove to your cottage to meet him.
How's that sound?"

"It sounds as good as anything else we've come
up with," said Joe. We got out of the cruiser and met the party
of four as they emerged from the Caddy. The two helpers stood back.
Mary and the kid were talking to each other a mile a minute. Then
Joe, who wasn't pleased, drew her aside.

"Well, did he give you an all-day sucker?"

Mary told him to lay off the sexual innuendoes. Joe,
taken aback, murmured to me that he hadn't intended any. Then she
approached me.

"jeez, Charlie, you ought to see it inside. He's
got a TV and even a VCR. He can watch movies and everything while
he's riding. There's a bar and a phone, too."

"I'm terribly impressed. Are you planning on
spending the rest of the day with him, or what?"

"C'mon, Charlie . . .Joe."

"The guy's a mobster, Mare," said her
brother.

"He's also not much older than Jackie. And I
don't think he's mean."

"Good. I'm glad you're such an expert,"
said Joe. "Too bad his rap sheet doesn't agree."

"Shhhh!" she said, as Falcone walked up
with Brooks.

"Eddie," asked Keegan, "have you ever
taken a phone call in that booth?"

"No sir. Besides, I don't need a booth. I got a
phone in my car."

"
You told me it's broken," said Mary,
looking reproachfully at the kid.

"Well, yeah. Not workin' too good right now."

"You never took a call here? Not a week before
last Friday? Think carefully, Eddie."

"No sir."

"
Because that's where Andy called the night he
died. You have any idea who he could have called here?"

"Maybe his girl friend, Alice. She lives not too
far from here, up in Falmouth."

"When did you last talk with Andy?"

"About three or four weeks ago. Dr. Adams, your
son saw us talking. It was up on the road north of town."

"And what did you talk about, Eddie?"
pursued Keegan.

"Things."

"Things? You mean money? We know you loaned him
money, Eddie. Andy told Jack Adams about the loan. And Arthur
Hagstrom, the director of the MBL, told us. Well?"

"Yeah. I loaned him money."

"How much?"

"Excuse me," interrupted Marshall Brooks,
"my client is under no obligation to answer that. He is here
voluntarily, in a spirit of cooperation in the investigation of a
friend's murder. The loan was consummated across state lines.
Moreover, no record of the transaction was made, as it was a
gentlemen's agreement. Furthermore, I advise—"

"Yeah yeah yeah yeah. No record made, Eddie? How
many loans you make without records?'

"
Not many."

"Not many, eh? We beg to differ with you. We've
got—"

"Lay off, you guys!" said Mary, leaning up
against Joe's cruiser with her arms crossed. "C'mon. He didn't
have to come up here, did you, Eddie?"

The two men stared at her, dumbfounded and angry.
Paul Keegan flipped his pocket notebook shut with a loud flap, jammed
it into his inside breast pocket, and grunted that the interview was
over. He and Joe climbed into the cruiser. I looked at Mary.

"You riding with us?" I asked.

"No, Charlie. You're riding with us. C'mon."

Before I could decide, Joe and Keegan pulled off, in
a huff, no doubt. So Mary and I got inside the big white car, which,
I quickly noticed, was not new, and settled ourselves in back, with
Slinky sitting between us. A stereo system with fuzzy speakers played
the theme from Mondo Cane, The car's shocks weren't in the best of
shape, either; we bounced along the road like a pogo stick. Eddie
Falcone was a good-looking boy, and he was doing his damnedest to be
polite.

"Would you care for another ginger ale, Mrs.
Adams? My, you look ravishing this morning. . ."

"Thanks, Eddie,” she answered with an amused
grin. I could tell she was enjoying herself.

"Dr. Adams?"

"No thanks," I said, not wishing to taint
myself with his hospitality. Slinky leaned forward and spoke to the
driver.

"Take it easy on these curves, eh Vinnie? We
wouldn't want Mrs. Adams here to get nauseous."

The big man nodded. He had a crew cut, and a neck
that spilled out over his collar in enormous wrinkles of fat. His
neck was much bigger than his head. He seemed competent, though. He
understood spoken commands, for starters. He was probably even toilet
trained. Marshall Brooks, the mouthpiece, sat with hands folded on
top of his attaché case.

"
Isn't this lovely weather we've been having
lately," continued the kid. You should go on a talk show, I
thought. Mary opened a small cabinet attached to the back of the
front seat. I saw her flipping through stacks of videocassettes.
Eyeing her, Eddie Falcone grew nervous. I saw beads of sweat on his
upper lip.

"Mrs. Adams, I don't think you should—"

"Aw, Charlie! He's got skin flicks in here. So
now I know why you've got the VCR, Eddie. So, you take your girl
friend for rides with you? Is that the reason for the darkened
windows? Huh, Eddie? Where's the curtain for the front seat then?
Oooooo, these look good. Do you have A Hard Man Is Good to Find? It's
my fav—"

"Mary! Can it."

The big Caddy oozed to a stop right in front of
Lillie Hall. "Who killed Andy?" I asked Falcone.

"I don't know, Dr. Adams. I swear on the cross I
don't know," he said, fingering the gold crucifix that dangled
on his hairy chest.

"And the last time you saw Andy was a month ago?
I doubt that, Eddie."

He looked at me, panic-stricken, and said nothing.
Marshall Brooks and Vinnie both turned around in the front seat,
looking at me. Eddie Falcone gave me a nervous, boyish grin and stuck
out his hand.

"Dr. Adams, it's been ever so nice to meet you
and your charming, lovely wife."

I climbed out of the mob-mobile. Joe and Paul were
aloof as I walked up to them.

"So, you too," said Joe.

"For Chrissakes; you guys didn't give me a
choice, you just pulled off."

"We have a big dinner most Friday nights,"
Mary was saying as she leaned into the rear window.

"Well, what do you think about Mr. Falcone?"
I asked them.

"I think he's a smooth-talking punk," said
Joe.

"Yeah? Well tell that to Mary," said
Keegan.

"So come on up, Eddie; we'd love to see you. And
bring Carla. Except, you get into those flicks on the way up, you
won't have much energy left for dinner."

"Good God, Sis is a pain in the ass."

"Runs in the family I guess," said Paul.
"Let's go get some coffee."

"Oh, and here's my ginger ale can—said Mary,
leaning in and giving Eddie Falcone, a.k.a. Slinky, a hug and a kiss
on the cheek. Then she hopped gaily up the walk and met us. The white
Caddy pulled away in silence. All three of us descended on Mary,
giving her hell for fraternizing with the enemy. I thought we were
pretty impressive, myself. Apparently, she didn't.

"Okay, okay, okay," she said, her arms
crossed in defiance. "I know he's connected. I know he's a
crook. Okay? You happy now? But I also know, based on my feelings, my
instincts, that Eddie's telling the truth when he says he didn't kill
Andy. I just know he didn't. Charlie, you said yourself the Wiseguys
didn't kill Andy, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"That's it."' she said, throwing up her
hands, "Now let's shut up and go back to the Breakers. I'm sick
of all this male bullshit."

The three of us puffed out
our chests and looked at each other, trying to think of something
forceful and penetrating to say. But we couldn't. So we went back to
the cars for the ride up to the cottage.

* * *

"I'm not being belligerent, Joe. I'm just saying
that I don't think it covers all the facts," I said. We were
just pulling into the gravel parking space at the Breakers. The three
of us had driven up after our bout with the Sicilian Connection,
leaving Paul Keegan and the boys in Woods Hole for the nonce so we
could get some R and R at the cottage. Then Mary and I had to return
to Concord for a few days to catch up on work and errands. Moe met us
at the door and we went out on the deck.

"You have no respect for the way law enforcement
works," said Joe. "Either of you."

"Shut up, Joey. " said Mary. "You're
just sore because I think Eddie Falcone's an okay guy. And because
Charlie doesn't think old Lionel Hartzell's the guy who broke in
here."

"So? Who's he like better for it?"

"Nobody," I said. "But the lack of a
better suspect doesn't make Hartzell guilty . . . anymore than it
made Jack guilty. If Hartzell had ransacked the Breakers, he wouldn't
have stolen my shortwave radio."

"
Sure he would, to throw us off, make it look
like a routine burglary."

"C'mon. It just doesn't fit. Look: nothing was
taken from the guys' rooms in Woods Hole. Jack says he can't account
for anything missing, and there was a lot of stuff there that a
burglar would want. So that was a genuine toss; somebody was looking
for something they didn't find. But up here, hell, they took my
radio, a camera, and some jewelry they must've thought was valuable.
Little did they know."