Z craned his neck and stared up at the lights burning over the corner store. “Probably same in the porn business,” Z said. “Murphy makes the movies and sometimes stars in them, too.”

“Performance pressure,” I said.

“His whole business is online. You get a membership to watch girls get interviewed by Murphy and then do the deed.”

“So the casting couch is his show?”

“Murphy goes by the name Mr. X. He never shows his face but is very proud of his equipment,” Z said. “It all takes place on his couch. Sometimes on his desk.”

“Few sets.”

“Most of the girls don’t look eighteen,” Z said. “Reminded me of when I was in L.A. Girls looked stoned. Need the money for food.”

“Hmm,” I said.

“He likes to make the girls hurt,” Z said. “He likes to demean them.”

The mindless chatter of Paulie & the Gooch filled the car. Wind blew grit and loose flyers across the road. Rain tapped absently on the windshield.

“If I see him, perhaps he should hurt, too.”

“So many shitbags,” I said. “So little time.”

Z nodded.

“You see any girls who might have been Cristal?” I said.

“No,” he said. “But he had maybe four hundred, five hundred films.”

Our prayers are with the entire Heywood family and with the brave men and women of law enforcement looking for Akira. The Gooch and I both have spent a lot of time with the Heywood family, including Akira, and I promise our listeners that there is no more devoted father than Kinjo Heywood. If anyone out there knows anything about these kidnappers or where they might have this child, you can call a special hotline we’ve set up through the Sports Monstah network.

“No prayers for us?” Z said.

I shook my head.

“Damn.”

The lights continued to burn on the second floor above the corner store. A half-hour later, Hawk called. We spoke all of ten seconds and then I hung up.

“I’m needed,” I said.

“Trouble?”

“Nicole is trying to force Cristal to talk,” I said. “I’ll drop you at your car.”

“And I’ll circle back here.”

“Murphy may not even be up there,” I said. “May be a waste of time.”

“It’s such a lovely night in Dorchester,” Z said. “I’ll wait and see.”

37

Hawk had been keeping Nicole and Cristal Heywood company in the women’s bathroom of a Cheesecake Factory off Route 9. A short line had started at the bathroom door and the restaurant manager said she was about to call the cops. I smiled at her, all but saying the cops had arrived. I knocked and Hawk let me in. He leaned against the dimly lit sinks and tilted his head toward a nearby stall.

“Won’t leave till she gets the answer she wants,” Hawk said.

“And won’t leave with you?” I said.

Hawk shook his head. “Woman got a gun,” he said. “She says she know how to use it.”

“Persuasive,” I said.

I heard muffled crying from inside the stall. I knocked on the door and announced my arrival.

There was no answer.

“Nicole,” I said.

Hawk shrugged.

“What stopped you from just ripping the door off the hinges and snatching away the gun?” I said.

“Kind of interested to see what Cristal has to say,” Hawk said.

“Can’t wait much longer,” I said. “I don’t think the Cheesecake Factory likes to have armed patrons.”

Hawk nodded. I knocked again.

“Someone called in to Paulie and the Gooch tonight,” I said. “They said they’d announce their demands on Sunday.”

I heard a sniffle and a cough. There was a low wailing sound coming from the stall. “This won’t wait until Sunday,” Nicole said. “This bitch knows what happened to my son.”

“I don’t, I swear to God, I swear to God. Please.”

“If you don’t walk out with me in five seconds,” I said, “you’ll be arrested. That call tonight may be legit. Let’s not have anything to muddle plans.”

“She lost him,” Nicole said. “She’s trash. She knows.”

I looked to Hawk. He turned his neck from side to side, relaxing his muscles. He checked his watch. “Tick, tock,” he said.

“Maybe,” I said.

“I’m not leaving until she tells me what she knows,” Nicole said.

“I don’t know anything. I swear to God. Spenser, please help me. She’s crazy. She has a gun. She says she’s going to kill me.”

There was more crying coming from the stall. This time it sounded like both women. One of them was even more feral and harsh. I tried the door. It was locked. I knocked softly. Hawk stared straight ahead and waited.

“You’ll want to hear the call, Nicole. We need your help. We need you.”

“What about her?” Nicole said. “She’s lying. I know it.”

“We’ve been checking her out. Just like you said.”

“And she’s a part of this,” Nicole said. “Right?”

“Don’t know,” I said. “But I need you to allow me to do my job.”

More crying. More wailing. The door lock snicked open. Cristal rushed out. Nicole lay in a fetal position by the toilet. A small automatic poked out from her purse. She was crying very loudly now. Hawk walked out of the restroom with Cristal. I helped Nicole to her feet.

“Not like this,” I said, whispering.

“She knows,” Nicole said. “The bitch knows.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But we won’t find out like this.”

Nicole cried hard. I held her close. With my free hand, I reached for the purse and extracted the gun, placing it in my hip pocket. We walked together out of the bathroom with as much dignity as was allowed at a Cheesecake Factory. People stared. Employees glared.

In the parking lot, Hawk stood by his Jaguar. “Nicole followed Cristal,” he said. “Didn’t know I was following her.”

“I just wanted a fucking drink,” Cristal said. “We were out of booze at the house. I just wanted a fucking drink.”

I nodded to Hawk. Hawk helped Nicole toward the passenger side of the Jaguar. She had a deferential air toward him as they walked side by side.

“I’ll get you a drink,” I said. “And drive you back to your house.”

“I can’t take it there anymore,” Cristal said. “It’s like being in some kind of crypt. God. No one talking. Everyone crying and whispering.”

Hawk’s Jag started up and motored fast out of the parking lot. Lights refracted off his windshield and obscured their faces as they passed.

“She would have killed me,” Cristal said, watching them go. Her face was a mess of makeup. I found a handkerchief in my glove box and handed it to her. “She’s gone absolutely crazy. She hates me. She really thinks I took her son.”

I had nothing to say.

“Did they really call?” she said. “Or did you just say that so she’d leave me alone?”

“There was a caller,” I said. “Tomorrow. I guess we’ll find out.”

38

The Washington Square Tavern in Brookline stayed open late. They also served Harpoon Maple Wheat on draft and small plates of very good food. Although I felt bad for Z, I knew he wouldn’t want me to suffer.

The bar was big and warm, low light, with dark wood and colorful liquor bottles around a large beveled mirror. I ordered the beer and a tequila with lime for Cristal. While the bartender poured, Cristal glanced at her reflection and quickly looked away. “Oh, God.”

“Me or you?” I said.

“Me,” she said.

On the ride over, she’d dabbed on some makeup, smoky eye shadow and pink lips that went with her jewelry. She wore three necklaces and four rings. The wedding ring glowed pink and was roughly the size of a golf ball. She had on an aqua halter dress that showed off a wealth of cleavage and a lot of leg. Her legs were long and spray-tanned, impressive on a pair of high-heeled gold Roman sandals.