I WAS SITTING AT MY DESK with my feet up, contemplating the cooking of the turducken for our Christmas dinner. It needed to roast for seven hours. I was counting backward from our appointed dinner hour of two in the afternoon to figure out when it should go in Susan’s oven. Then the door to my office opened and Juan Alvarez came in.

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” he said. His tone suggested he didn’t much care whether I minded or not. He carried his overcoat on his arm. He wore a tweed jacket with smooth leather patches at the elbows, a tartan vest, and a green tie patterned with small yellow animals that looked like little foxes.

I motioned to the chair opposite my desk.

He shot me a baleful look with his hard brown eyes. “You, Spenser, are not who you say you are. You are a private investigator. You never mentioned that when we were introduced.” He sounded genuinely injured.

“I also didn’t tell you that I enjoy piña coladas and walks in the rain,” I said. “And, I might add, you never asked.”

“I hear that you or someone working with you has been snooping into my private affairs. If that’s true, I’d like it to stop. I’m sure there must be some misunderstanding.” He gave me a faint smile.

“What exactly have you heard, Juan?” I said.

“My foreman told me that you came out to my farm in Weston a few days ago. And one of my men in the city reports that you visited one of my properties recently. Each time with some black man. Each time one of my employees was attacked.” He leaned forward toward me. “True?”

“A lot of people say that about Hawk,” I said. “They look at him and say, ‘That is some black man.’”

He got up. “This is not a joke to me, Spenser. You are interfering with how I run my business. I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I thought when we met the other night we met as friends. I still hope so.” He paused. “But please understand. If you don’t stop, I will stop you.”

I let his words hang in the air for a moment.

“I’m sure you’re serious, Juan,” I said. “I’m also sure you are aware that someone has been threatening your brother and his boys’ shelter. In fact, if you recall our delightful encounter at the charity auction, you might remember my informing you that Jackie had requested my help in making the threats stop.”

“I am quite capable of protecting my brother,” Alvarez said. “And I fail to see the connection between Jackie’s problems and your invasion of my properties.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “My investigative methods may seem as opaque to you as your business dealings do to me. We both have an interest in knowing who might be threatening Jackie and Street Business. Any ideas?”

Alvarez’s demeanor softened, and he sighed. “Jackie,” he said. “He’s tried so hard, and always manages to fail. His intentions are good, but that’s not enough. Street Business is just a pipe dream, I’m afraid.”

“It may be ambitious,” I said. “But who would want to see it fail?”

Alvarez shrugged. “Who knows? Anybody. Everybody. Maybe a gang that sees Street Business as an invasion of its turf. Drug dealers or other criminals who see it as a threat. So-called concerned citizens. Not everyone supports housing homeless kids in the community, as you might imagine. Even real estate developers, perhaps. We have had many offers to purchase our buildings on Curtis Street, mine as well as Jackie’s.”

“I’m curious, Juan,” I said. “Why do you own so many properties on Curtis Street?”

He smiled without warmth. “I have many employees. There is not enough room for them all at my farm in Weston. And, frankly, I keep a couple of men in town to keep an eye on Jackie and Street Business, to make sure everything goes well.”

“So why do you continue to support Street Business if you think it’s a pipe dream?”

“Jackie is my brother, Spenser,” he said. “He is family. I promised my mother that I would support and protect the family, Jackie most of all. As long as he believes in Street Business, I must not fail him. To do so would be to dishonor my mother and the memory of my father. That I won’t do.”

Alvarez gathered his coat and pulled a pair of leather gloves from his pocket.

“Thank you for your time, Spenser. I trust we have simply had a misunderstanding. I will take care of my brother. It is difficult with my travel schedule and business obligations, but he is my responsibility.”

“I understand you travel quite a bit,” I said. “I hope you get a break for the holidays. Any chance you’re heading south of the border for New Year’s?”

He put his gloved hand out to shake mine. “Merry Christmas, Spenser. May the New Year bring you peace and prosperity.” His grip was strong and his smile cold.

THE VISIT FROM Juan Alvarez had annoyed me enough that I abandoned my further thoughts of the turducken and decided to catch up with the sports section of The Boston Globe instead. Outside it looked cold, but the sun was shining. A few shoppers, bundled against the weather, clutched shopping bags as they hurried down the street. Patches of snow lay in irregular patterns across the Boston Garden.

My office door opened, and Carmen came in. She held out her hand. “Hello again, Spenser.”

“Hello, Carmen.”

Her hand was cold from the outdoors, and it looked like she bit her fingernails. She had a strong grip. She wore no makeup on her smooth, dark skin except for a touch of lipstick. She smiled at me. I smiled back. I wondered how it must feel to be a woman whose looks were so startling. The combination of her blue eyes and strong features was oddly electric. I sat down again behind my desk. And waited for her to begin.

She was wearing clean, well-worn blue jeans, work boots, and a blue-and-green checked wool shirt over a white tank top. She put her sheepskin parka on the back of my visitor’s chair. Her hair was straight and fell to her shoulders, and was so dark it was almost black. She gave me an open, friendly look. And there were those eyes again.

“And what can I do for you?” I said.

“I hear you help people. Jackie told Slide, and Slide told me.”

“Word gets around.”

“Yes.” She paused. “You know Jackie is Juan’s younger brother?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is that a problem?”

Carmen frowned. “Juan Alvarez is the reason I need your help.”

“Maybe this would be easier if I offered you a cup of coffee?”

“Do you have anything stronger?” she said.

“My coffee is pretty strong,” I said, “but yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

I pulled my emergency bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and two water glasses from the cabinet against the wall, and grabbed the tray of ice cubes from the small refrigerator next to my desk. I dropped the ice cubes one at a time into the glasses and poured two fingers of scotch into each glass. I handed her one and returned to my desk with the other.