Free Silent Night: A Spenser Holiday Novel by Robert B. Parker

fireplace, circled around three times, and then sat heavily on the rug in front of the fire.
    “So,” I said, “based solely on what I’ve described, do you think Carmen is being truthful in her motivations?”
    “Again, it’s impossible to tell for sure without seeing her. So much is revealed by body language, by tone and inflection of speech. But yes, it’s certainly possible she’s telling the truth. She sounds like a fundamentally strong woman who has taken some pretty significant knocks. She enjoyed some hard-earned success in a tough, highly competitive environment, and then spiraled down lower than she ever imagined she could go.”
    “And now she wants to destroy the man who helped her back up?”
    “Perhaps she’s reached a point in her recovery where she doesn’t need his support any longer, where she can stand on her own. She’s now able to see him for what he truly is.”
    “And she couldn’t before, because he was her savior.”
    “Yes. She needed to believe he was a good man just as much as he apparently does. It could also be that Slide is a trigger of sorts. For whatever reason, she’s protective of him in a way she’s never felt toward another human being, and that has caused her to see Alvarez in a different light.”
    “So do you think I should help her?”
    “You’ve already agreed to help her. What I’m curious about is what you plan to do if your commitments conflict.”
    “You mean Jackie and Street Business.”
    “Yes,” she said. “What if doing a good thing by bringing down Alvarez causes a bad thing to happen to a good cause?”
    “Go with the greater good?”
    “Is that the understanding you have with Jackie?”
    “No, it’s not.”
    “Then what?”
    “‘First client wins’ doesn’t work, either.”
    “No.”
    “Then I guess I just need to make sure there’s no conflict.”
    “Yes, you will.”
    We were silent for a moment.
    “Shall I start dinner?” I said.
    “Maybe we need to burn off those cookies first,” Susan said.
    I looked over at Pearl, who was curled up and sleeping in front of the fire.
    “She doesn’t look like she’s ready for a run,” I said.
    “I’m sure we can agree on an alternative,” Susan said.
    “Might it involve seeing you naked?”
    “Only if you keep your eyes open.”
    “Hot diggity.” I held out my hand. “Lay on, MacDuff!” I said.
    And she did.

T HE LIGHT SNOW BLEW AROUND in circles outside my office window. I was sharpening my powers of reasoning and analysis by reading comics in the
Globe
when Healy came in. He went to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup, added milk and sugar, and took a seat opposite my desk.
    “Have some coffee,” I said.
    “Generous of you to offer,” Healy said. He looked around. “Any bagels?”
    Healy wore a light blue shirt and gray jacket with navy blue pants and a blue-and-red narrow striped tie.
    I shook my head.
    “What is that you’re reading?” He stirred his coffee.
    “Tank McNamara
.”
    “Good to see you haven’t lost the love of learning.”
    “I tried reading Aristotle,” I said, “but the comics have better pictures.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, “in case I ever learn to read.” He eyed me over the rim of his mug.
    “Thanks for dropping by,” I said.
    “You call, I spring into action,” he said. “Although I was expecting bagels.” He took another sip. “So what’s so confidential we couldn’t have this conversation over the phone.”
    “I need some help,” I said. “Do you know somebody named Juan Alvarez? Rich guy. Import/export business out of Boston. Big spread in Weston where he keeps his horses and illegal immigrants and probably some other stuff I don’t know about yet.”
    “I’ve heard of him. Don’t know him. Never arrested for anything that I can remember. I’ll run his name. What’s your interest?”
    “I’ve got reason to believe he’s running drugs and laundering money, perhaps as part of a Mexican drug cartel.