WHILE I WASN’T FEELING particularly holly jolly about Christmas, I was quite interested in Christmas dinner. Sometimes we went out, and sometimes we stayed home, where I cooked and Susan stayed out of the way. I had been pondering wild boar. While I toyed with the idea of hunting it myself, I opted for a more refined approach. I explored the exotic game at Savenor’s on Charles Street. Then I drove out to Newton to inspect the offerings at John Dewar. Just in case I encountered a wild boar on the way to the suburbs, I took my gun.

Maybe turducken . . .

WHEN I GOT BACK to my office, waiting outside the door was a smooth, strapping guy with a lot of dark curly hair and the open professional smile of a television star. He was wearing an ill-fitting blue blazer over a collarless black shirt and gray slacks. His clothes had the worn and rumpled look of a thrift store sale.

He smiled. “My name’s Jackie. I was wondering if I could talk with you.”

“Come in,” I said, and unlocked the door.

I motioned him into the office. He stood next to one of the guest chairs until I had made my way around the desk. I sat. He sat. I tented my hands, rested my chin on my fingertips, and waited. The room grew quiet enough for me to hear the traffic noise from the street below. The steam radiator hissed.

“First thing,” Jackie said finally. “My name is Joachim Lorenzo Alvarez.”

“You obviously know mine.”

“I do,” Jackie said.

“So you know my name and what I do,” I said.

“And you only know my name?” Jackie said.

“Exactly,” I said.

“How much has Slide told you?”

“Not much.”

“I run an organization called Street Business,” Jackie said. “I give kids a place to live. I get jobs for them.”

I waited.

“Street Business gives a home and work and structure to kids who need them,” Jackie said. “We provide an opportunity for runaways, those abandoned by their families or who are alone because of circumstances over which they have no control.”

“Excuse me, Jackie,” I said. “But you sound like you’re reading from a brochure. You help kids. I get that. Where do you find the kids you help?”

Jackie seemed to relax a bit. He took a deep breath and gave a slight wave of his left hand. “Mostly, the kids find me. Word-of-mouth referrals. One kid tells another, that kind of thing. Sometimes they just turn up on my doorstep, who knows from where? Especially when it’s cold out.” He smiled at me. “My brother Juan has a large estate in Weston, and he sometimes sends me the children of the Mexican immigrants who work for him. They need to earn pocket money and learn English. Others are referred to me by those who are aware of my services. Kids just out of juvenile detention. Nowhere to go. That sort of thing. Their parents have kicked them out.”

“Are you licensed?’

He looked down at his hands. “No,” he said. “Not at this time.”

I leaned back in my chair and contemplated what I was hearing. An unlicensed home for wayward kids. I considered the types of work a place like that would have kids do, and didn’t like any of them. And how would he avoid getting caught by the cops, running an unlicensed business? Probably not a client I’d be highlighting on my website. If I had a website.

“Where does your financing come from?” I said.

“We’ll take any help we can get. I take a percentage of what the kids make to help run the place, but it isn’t enough by a long shot. My older brother Juan is our main support.”

“Your brother has that kind of money?”

Jackie flashed a brief smile. “Please don’t let my stylish clothing fool you, Mr. Spenser. I am not a wealthy man, but my brother is. He is a successful businessman with many interests.”

“He’s in Boston?”

Jackie brightened. “Yes. His office is here in town, in the Financial District.”

“And why do you and your brother do this?”

“I started Street Business to help others avoid the mistakes I have made. My family came over from Puerto Rico and settled in Lawrence, where there’s a big immigrant community. Our mother still lives there. I am not proud of this, but I fell in with gangs early. Juan never did. He left Lawrence as soon as he graduated from high school, traveled to Mexico and South America, came back a businessman. He is generous with his wealth, in the community and with his family. He got me out of the gang life and gave me a job. And when I told him I wanted to start Street Business, he bought me the house we use and gave me enough funds to get started.”

“And when you run low, he helps you out?” I said.

“Yes.”

“And what do you do about the law? Does your brother help you out with the being-unlicensed part, too?”

“Yes,” Jackie said. “Juan has many friends in high places.”

“What kinds of jobs do the kids do?” I said.

“A couple of Juan’s guys live with us, and they help find them jobs. Bike messengers. Some are busboys. They can do the kinds of things in restaurants that aren’t unionized. In the summer they mow lawns, do yard work, that kind of thing. You’d be surprised. We have some good mechanics and apprentice carpenters. People don’t ask too many questions, if a sixteen-year-old kid is a good worker.”

“And some are messengers, like Slide,” I said.

Jackie gave a little laugh that sounded like a hiccup.

“Yes, like Slide. When I can keep him from running back to Carmen.”

“Who is Carmen?” I said.

“She’s Juan’s girlfriend. She lives on his estate out in Weston. Slide turned up out there a week or so ago. Carmen told me he looked like he had been hitchhiking for a while. His last ride must have dumped him off on the Weston highway. I guess he could see my brother’s big red barn from the road and decided to sleep there, where he could stay warm. She found him in the morning up in the hayloft. After a few days, Carmen sent him to me to see if he could be useful running errands. But he’s so attached to her, he keeps hopping a bus or hitchhiking back to Weston.”

“Maybe he just prefers fresh air over Times Square,” I said, “like on Green Acres.”

“What?” Jackie frowned.

“Nothing. So what problem do you have that you need me for?”

Jackie leaned forward and his voice dropped. “The property that Juan gave me? Where we both live and work? People are trying to make us get out.”

“By means that require me, not a lawyer?” I said.

“Yes.”

“And no cops?”

“That is correct,” Jackie said.

“Because you aren’t legal?”

“Yes,” Jackie said. “We are not strictly legal. We are, as you noted, unlicensed. Some of the kids are underage and don’t have any working papers. And some, as I mentioned, are illegal immigrants from Mexico.”

“Who’s trying to drive you out?”

“I’m not sure. It could be a street gang. Or the church. There is a local parish that is looking for property so they can expand. They want to build low-income housing and a school. Juan owns some other houses in the block where he puts his employees. At one time, the church wanted to buy us all out, but we wouldn’t sell. Whoever it is, they take the kids’ money and sometimes rough them up. A couple of the boys have been hurt, and plenty of them are frightened.”

“If your brother Juan is so rich, why can’t he find out who’s trying to get rid of you and then do something about it?” I said.

“Juan supports us financially, but he keeps his distance from Street Business. It could have a negative impact on his business and social interests in Boston.”