“Nope,” I said. “Chocolate-glazed.”

“You ever worked a criminal investigation before?”

“One or two.”

“You’re welcome to look at his file,” he said. “See if you can make chickenshit into chicken salad.”

“People do say I am a wonderful cook.”

He rummaged around in his office for several minutes. A bottle of Scope sat on a tall file cabinet. He had framed a print of the Paul Revere statue behind his desk. “One if by land, and two if by sea.” A framed diploma from Suffolk Law School had yellowed and bubbled behind the glass.

I sat in the chair and studied the rain slanting along Washington Street. I missed the hookers and pimps. At least they were honest.

He handed me the file.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“What do you keep in that cup?”

“Fighting Cock whiskey and Sprite.”

“Good God.”

He shrugged.

I stood. “I’ll have copies made.”

“Keep it,” Contini said, before taking a swig of hooch. “I flushed the toilet on that turd a long time ago.”

“Well, you did everything humanly possible.”

“Let me give you some free advice, Spenser,” Contini said. I figured we were old buddies now, as he rubbed the shadow on his jaw. “You know, since you’re such a nice guy.”

“Ah, shucks.”

“You’re wasting your fucking time.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“But you think he’s innocent.”

“I think Julie Sullivan’s daughter has a lot questions,” I said. “I think Mickey Green never got a fair shot.”

“What would you think of me if I said not everyone deserves one?” Contini asked.

“Not very much.”

25

I had skipped lunch. Sensing this might be a sign of the Apocalypse, I invited Mattie to an early dinner in Cambridge. Susan joined us.

We ate at a little place on the square called Flat Patties. The shoestring fries were excellent. The burgers were indeed flat. Sadly, though, they did not serve beer.

“You can’t have beer with every meal,” Susan said.

“But with a burger and fries?” I said. “There should be a law.”

Outside the plate-glass window, a group of students gathered on Brattle Street. They were protesting something in carefully chosen ragged-looking clothes and bright ski hats. I chose not to listen. It was hard to imagine an oppressed Harvard student.

Mattie watched the students chant and began to furtively wrap the uneaten burger in some wax paper.

“Not good?” Susan asked.

“I’m not hungry,” Mattie said. “I’ll bring it home for my sisters.”

“Go ahead and eat,” I said. “We’ll get a couple burgers to go.”

Mattie looked to Susan. Susan nodded. Mattie shrugged. Her reddish hair had been braided and looped through the back of her cap.

“So you have twin sisters?” Susan asked.

Mattie nodded and took a bite.

“What are their names?”

Mattie told her. Susan picked at her salad.

“And you live with your grandmother?”

Mattie took a larger bite. She nodded with her mouth full. I felt Susan’s hand on my knee. I took this as a sign to keep my mouth shut. I promptly filled it with more burger and a couple of fries. The burger was top shelf. The BBQ Blue. Blue cheese, barbecue sauce, and bacon. It was easy to keep my mouth at work.

Susan had ordered an Asian salad with scallions, toasted almonds, and noodles.

“So what do you do for fun?” Susan asked.

“I don’t know. Watch TV and stuff.”

“I mean, if you could do anything for a day, what would you do?”

“Who has a day like that?”

“What if you could take a little vacation from life?”

“But I can’t.”

“If you could,” Susan said. She said it sweetly, smiling as she nibbled on a Chinese noodle. Just a couple ladies shooting the breeze. Susan had a wonderful ability to coax in the gentle pauses. But Mattie was one very tough nut.

“The weather sucks,” Mattie said. “You can’t do crap outside. If you do go outside, people screw with you. I guess go see a movie.”

“Is that fun?”

“I guess.”

“What did you used to do for fun?” Susan asked.

“When I was a kid?”

“Yes,” Susan said. “Back when you were the same age as your sisters?”

“I don’t remember,” Mattie said. “What did you do?”

Susan took a sip of tea and smiled. I continued to eat. Susan’s hand had yet to leave my knee. It was not at all unpleasant.

“I liked to play dress-up,” Susan said. “I liked old dresses. I had dolls. I know it’s not original, but I loved dolls when I was six.”

“She was the princess of Swampscott,” I said. “Sometimes she’ll still play dress-up.”

Susan gently kicked me.

“What about your sisters?” Susan asked. “What do they like to do?”

“They like the cartoons. They watch a ton of freakin’ cartoons. All that Japanese crap. Dora. SpongeBob. They like to go to the playground when you don’t freeze your ass off. They have friends at school. I don’t know. Kid stuff.”

“Do you enjoy playing with them?”

“I don’t play,” Mattie said. “I’m fourteen.”

I almost mentioned the tiara at the princess party but did not care to be kicked under the table twice.

“That’s not too old to play.”

“I got stuff to do.”

“Like what?” Susan asked.

“Get my sisters ready for bed,” she said. “Make sure they have clean clothes for school. All that. Sometimes my grandma helps. Sometimes she can’t.”

Mattie finished her cheeseburger in record time. She sat back. She eyed Susan. And then she eyed me. She smiled slightly and took a deep breath. “What about you, Susan?”

Susan widened her eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Mattie said. “You got kids?”

“No.”

“How come?” Mattie asked. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back.

Susan smiled slowly, admiring Mattie’s tactic, and nodded. “I wanted children when I was younger, but after my divorce, it wasn’t practical.”

“Why’d you get a divorce?”

“Her husband was an asshole,” I said.

Mattie smiled. Susan did not. She grasped my knee firmly.

“We became different people.”

“That’s me,” Mattie said. “You’re asking me about bein’ a kid and all that. It’s not the same. I don’t even remember things before my ma died.”

“But you realize you are the same person,” Susan said. “That kid is you. It’s your life history. Past, present, and future.”

Mattie shrugged.

“You can’t stop your life while you search for what happened,” Susan said. “Unhappiness won’t bring back the dead. That’s something hard to understand for many of my patients.”

“You ever lost a parent?”

“No,” Susan said. “Not like you have. You’ve gone through a horrific event.”

“This is what I do,” she said. “I’ll see it through.”

“But it will grind you down.”

“Nah.” Mattie shook her head. She looked at Susan with very old eyes. “It keeps me going.”

Susan nodded. Mattie nodded back at her.

I took a breath. Susan let go of my leg. There was a sliver of tension at the table. It was up to Mr. Personality to cut through it.

“Who’d like a malt?” I asked. “You know I skipped lunch? Something I haven’t done in twenty years. My dedication is unwavering.”

I ordered two malts.

The protest broke up and some of the protestors filtered into the restaurant. I detected the protest had not been about eating red meat. A few of the coeds removed their heavy winter jackets and scarves to reveal some very tight T-shirts. The T-shirts protested the war. I took note as the malts arrived.

“You ever thought about what you’d like to do when you graduate?” Susan asked.

“That’s a long time,” Mattie said. “Like in four years.”

“Four years goes quick,” Susan said.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” I said. “In a previous life, she worked as a guidance counselor.”