Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
THE SPENSER NOVELS
Painted Ladies
The Professional
Rough Weather
Now & Then
Hundred-Dollar Baby
School Days
Cold Service
Bad Business
Back Story
Widow's Walk
Potshot
Hugger Mugger
Hush Money
Sudden Mischief
Small Vices
Chance
Thin Air
Paper Doll
Double Deuce
Pastime
Stardust
Playmates
Crimson Joy
Pale Kings and Princes
Taming a Sea-Horse
A Catskill Eagle
Valediction
The Widening Gyre
Ceremony
A Savage Place
Early Autumn
Looking for Rachel Wallace
The Judas Goat
Promised Land
Mortal Stakes
God Save the Child
The Godwulf Manuscript
THE JESSE STONE NOVELS
Split Image
Night and Day
Stranger in Paradise
High Profile
Sea Change
Stone Cold
Death in Paradise
Trouble in Paradise
Night Passage
THE SUNNY RANDALL NOVELS
Spare Change
Blue Screen
Melancholy Baby
Shrink Rap
Perish Twice
Family Honor
THE VIRGIL COLE/EVERETT HITCH NOVELS
Blue-Eyed Devil
Brimstone
Resolution
Appaloosa
ALSO BY ROBERT B. PARKER
Double Play
Gunman's Rhapsody
All Our Yesterdays
A Year at the Races (with Joan H. Parker)
Perchance to Dream
Poodle Springs (with Raymond Chandler)
Love and Glory
Wilderness
Three Weeks in Spring (with Joan H. Parker)
Training with Weights (with John R. Marsh)
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA * Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) * Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England * Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) * Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) *
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Copyright (c) 2011 by The Estate of Robert B. Parker
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Published simultaneously in Canada
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Parker, Robert B.
Sixkill / Robert B. Parker.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-51466-5
1. Spenser (Fictitious character)--Fiction. 2. Private investigators--Fiction.
3. Murder--Investigation--Fiction. I. Title.
PS3566.A686S
813'.54--dc22
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication.
Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
http://us.penguingroup.com
As always, for Joan.
And this one's for Lou Zambello.
1
IT WAS SPRING. The vernal equinox had done whatever it was it did, and the late March air drifting in through the open window in my office was soft even though it wasn't really warm yet. Spring training was under way in full tiresomeness, and opening day was two weeks off.
I was drinking coffee and studying a new comic strip called Frazz to see if there were any existential implications that I might be missing, when Quirk came in and went to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup, added sugar and condensed milk, and took a seat opposite my desk.
"Care for coffee?" I said.
"Got some," Quirk said. "Nice of you to ask."
"You ever read Frazz?" I said.
"What the fuck is Frazz," Quirk said.
He was as big as I was, which is biggish, and always dressed well. Today he had on a chestnut-colored Harris tweed jacket. His hands were thick, and there was in his eyes a look of implacable resolution that made most people careful with him.
"A comic strip in the Globe," I said. "It's new."
"I'm a grown man," Quirk said.
"And a police captain," I said.
"Exactly," Quirk said. "I don'
t read comic strips."
"I withdraw the question," I said.
Quirk nodded.
"I need something," he said.
"Everyone says so."
He ignored me. Quirk ignored a lot. He wasn't being impolite. He was merely focused, and I had known for years that he cared very little what other people thought.
"You know about Jumbo Nelson?"
"The actor," I said.
"Yes."
"Here shooting a movie," I said.
"Yeah."
"You guys think he murdered a young woman," I said.
"He's a person of interest," Quirk said.
I looked at him. I'd known him a long time.
"And?" I said.
"Lemme fill you in," Quirk said.
I got up and poured myself more coffee, and warmed Quirk's up. Then I put the pot on the burner, sat down in my chair, and leaned back with my feet up.
"Do," I said.
"Real name's Jeremy Franklin Nelson," Quirk said. "Ever seen him?"
"Seen his photograph," I said. "Never seen a movie."
"Photo's enough," Quirk said. "You can see where the nickname came from."
"I can," I said.
"He's in town," Quirk said, "shooting a movie. Which you know."
"As yet untitled," I said.
"Frazz tell you that?" Quirk said.
"I'm adventurous," I said. "Sometimes I read other stuff."
"Fucking media's treating this like it was the Lindbergh kidnapping."
"Lotta media to fill," I said.
"Too much," Quirk said. "Always was. Anyway, Jumbo is in town, travels with a bodyguard, an Indian."
"A Native American?"
Quirk nodded.
"Like I said."
"Could be an India Indian," I said.
"This guy's American Indian," Quirk said. "Wait'll you get a load of him."
"Dangerous?" I said.
"I dunno," Quirk said. "Looks good."
"Bodyguard involved?" I said.
"In the crime? Not that I know of," Quirk said.
"Press tells me that Jumbo raped and murdered a young woman and should be beheaded at once."
"Yeah," Quirk said. "That's what they tell me, too. What everybody tells me."
"You have doubts?"
Quirk shrugged.
"Here's what I know," he said. "Girl's name is Dawn Lopara, twenty years old, graduated last year from Bunker Hill Community College, was not employed."
Quirk sipped some coffee.
"More sugar," he said.
He went to the coffeemaker on the file cabinet and got some, and stirred it in, and sat back down. He took another sip and nodded.
"She's watching them shoot a scene outdoors on the Common, near Park Street Station, and Jumbo spots her. He sends a production assistant over to invite her to have lunch with him in the commissary. She's thrilled."
"As I would be," I said.
"Yeah," Quirk said. "Me too. So she has lunch with all the stars and the movie crew, and Jumbo gets her phone number and says maybe they can get together later, and she says oh-wow-yes."
"Do you know she said that?"
"The oh-wow-yes?" Quirk said. "No. So he calls her that night and she goes over to his hotel. They drink some champagne. They do some lines. They have sex. When they get through, they get dressed. Jumbo excuses himself for a moment while he goes to the bathroom. And while he's gone she lies back down on the bed and dies."
"I was having sex with Jumbo Nelson," I said, "I might consider it myself."
"It was after," Quirk said.
"Maybe she died of shame," I said.
"There was considerable bruising around the vaginal area," Quirk said.
"Suggesting an, ah, accessory object?"
"ME isn't sure," Quirk said. "Maybe Jumbo really is jumbo."
"Cause of death?" I said.
"ME thinks it's asphyxiation," Quirk said. "They found some ligature marks on her neck. But they don't seem entirely comfortable with how they got there."
"They're not sure?" I said.
"No."
"Aren't they supposed to be sure?" I said.
"For crissake," Quirk said. "One case I had, they lost the fucking body."
"That would be disheartening," I said.
"Was," Quirk said. "Also, when they're not sure, it gives a lot of space for rumors."
"I heard one report that the accessory object was the neck of a champagne bottle and it broke inside her and she bled to death."
Quirk shook his head.
"I know," Quirk said. "No evidence of it."
"I don't think the Internet requires evidence."
"Or knows how to get it," Quirk said.
"How 'bout Jumbo?" I said.
"Says he doesn't know what happened. Admits he was whacked on coke and booze. He says he left her alone and when he came back in the bedroom, he notices she's not responsive. Tries to wake her up. Can't. And calls nine-one-one."
"He'd been on top of her?" I said.
"Apparently," Quirk said. "At some point."
"Jesus," I said.
"I know, and we've thought about that."
"How much does he weigh?" I said.
"Don't know," Quirk said. "I'd say three-fifty to four hundred. He claims he doesn't know, either."
"What kind of guy is he?" I said.
"Awful," Quirk said. "Food, booze, dope, sex. Never saw a girl too young. Or a guy."
"Long as it's alive?" I said.
"I don't know if he requires that," Quirk said.
"But a nice guy aside from his hobbies," I said.
"Loud, arrogant, stupid, foulmouthed," Quirk said.
"You think he's foulmouthed?"
"Fucking A," Quirk said.
2
SPRING WAS STILL drifting in.
"Everybody likes him for it," Quirk said. "Us, the studio, people on the crew, everybody. Girl's parents."
"You like him for it?" I said.
"Governor likes him for it. Mayor likes him for it. Commissioner loves him. Command staff loves him more. Senate president. House speaker. Both newspapers. Everybody on TV. Every fucking cyberspace moron who can type," Quirk said.
"You?" I said.
"I don't think he murdered her," Quirk said. "Or if he did, we don't have enough hard evidence to say it. We're guessing."
"And everybody wants it to go away and take him with it," I said.
"They do," Quirk said. "He was probably with her when she died, and what they were doing may have killed her, I don't know. But I don't think you can convict a guy of murder on what we've got, and I'm afraid we might."
"The fact that he's a creep helps move it along," I said.
"It's not illegal to be a pain in the ass," Quirk said. "It was, you and me probably be doing time."
"Maybe you," I said. "Whaddya need from me?"
"I want you to look into it," Quirk said.
"Because you can't?"
"Correct," Quirk said.
"Anybody gonna pay me?" I said.
"The movie studio has hired Rita Fiore to represent Jumbo," Quirk said. "I've talked to her. She says Cone, Oakes will hire you to investigate."
"And bill the studio," I said.
"Be my guess," Quirk said.
"What makes you think he didn't commit first-degree murder?" I said.
"Maybe he did," Quirk said. "And if he did, we'll try to prove it. But right now I think he's being railroaded, and I can't stop it and stay a cop."
"What if I find out that he's guilty as charged?"
"Tell me," Quirk said. "I'll be thrilled. You want to look at our notes, so far?"
"I like to start fresh," I said. "I think better if I'm in the process."
"Yeah," Quirk said. "I know."
"Okay," I said.
"Okay you'll take the job?"
"Yep."
"Just like that?" Quirk said.
"Yep," I said.
"You might start out by t
alking to Rita Fiore," Quirk said.
"You might start out by not telling me what to do," I said.
"Okay," Quirk said. "What are you gonna do?"
"I'm gonna talk to Rita Fiore," I said.
"Good idea," Quirk said.
He almost smiled.
3
PEARL SCRATCHED at the bedroom door.
Susan got out of bed naked and let Pearl in, then came back and got into bed too late to keep Pearl from getting between us. Susan tried to pull the covers up, but Pearl was in the way.
"You cold?" I said.
"I don't like to lie around naked," Susan said.
"I've seen you naked five thousand times," I said.
"That's not the point," she said.
She was trying to get the covers out from under Pearl so that she could pull them over herself.
"What is the point?"
"Lying around naked is wanton," she said.
"And that's a bad thing?" I said.
"You keep peeking at me," Susan said.
"I don't peek," I said. "I stare."
Pearl moved around vigorously for a moment until she was entirely comfortable, and put her head down in a position that allowed her to look at both of us.
Susan looked at her alarm clock.
"It's ten o'clock in the morning," she said.
"On a Saturday," I said.
"And we've already had sex," she said.
"Nice start to the weekend," I said.
"And we'll probably have sex again before the weekend is over," she said.
"If we can shake Pearl," I said.
"We're grown people," she said.
"I know," I said.
"Don't you think we're oversexed?"
"You're the shrink," I said. "You tell me."
"Yes," she said. "I believe we are."
"What should we do about it?" I said.
"Encourage the pathology," Susan said, and smiled her rebelangel smile at me.
We were quiet. The sun wasn't high enough yet to shine into Susan's bedroom window, which faced west. But the light outside the window was bright.
"Quirk wants you to help him with that Jumbo Whosis murder," she said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He thinks Jumbo might be getting railroaded," I said.
"Can't he stop that himself?"
"No," I said.
"He's in charge of the investigation, isn't he?"
"Officially," I said. "But there are a number of people in charge of him."
"Such as?"
"Senior command staff. Commissioner. Mayor, governor . . . and such. All of them pressured by the media."