Free Pale Kings and Princes by Robert B. Parker Page B

looked at me a moment. I nodded. She nodded back. Then she turned toward the woman in the plaid skirt.
    "Yes," she said, "maybe some coffee." She bent and slipped under the yellow plastic ribbon with the black police-line-do-not-cross printing on it and straightened on the other side. The woman in the plaid skirt took her hand and held it and together they walked across the street and into a white frame house with green shutters.
    I looked at the trooper's card: Brian P. Lundquist. I looked at the cruiser. Lundquist had stepped out and was talking with the captain. Then both of them walked over to me.
    "Lieutenant Healy says you could probably help on this," he said. "Says you used to be a police officer."
    "Says they fired your ass, too," Henry said. Lundquist's eyes shifted very briefly from me to him and back.
    "And it came out here and made captain," I said.
    Lundquist smiled.
    Henry didn't. "This is our business," he said. "We don't need a lot of outsiders coming in here telling us what to do."
    Lundquist dropped his head in a polite little bob. "'Course you don't, Cap'n. Your chief gets smoked you want to take care of it yourself. Anyone would."
    "Goddamned right," Henry said.
    "Whyn't I just take Spenser here over to the cruiser and get a statement while you take care of the important stuff."
    Henry said, "Aw . . ." and made a quick throwaway gesture with his right hand and walked away toward the Oldsmobile. Lundquist pointed at the State Police cruiser with his thumb cocked as if he were shooting it. We walked over. Lundquist got behind the driver's seat. I sat on the passenger side. Lundquist took a notebook out from over the sun visor and a pen from his shirt pocket.
    "Tell me what you know," he said.
    "I know Valdez was shot," I said. "I know Rogers told me it was a jealous husband. I know he said there's no coke trade in Wheaton. I know a DEA guy named Fallon who says it's the major distribution center in the Northeast. I know Rogers didn't want me here and the cops followed and harassed me since I've been here. I know four guys stopped my car on Quabbin Road one night and attempted to beat me up. I shot one in the left thigh. They burned my car. I know a social worker named Juanita Olmo told me that Esmeralda Esteva had an affair with Valdez. I called on Esmeralda. She denied it. Later her husband and four other guys told me that I should butt out. He said his wife didn't have an affair with Valdez and that there was no coke business in Wheaton. He said he didn't send four guys to roust me on Quabbin Road. That part I believe. They weren't Latins and they weren't pros. I know that Bailey Rogers's son drives a truck for Esteva."
    "How come this Juanita told you about Esmeralda Esteva?"
    "I'm not sure," I said. "She said she was concerned that we Anglos were discriminating against Hispanics."
    "Yeah?"
    "She knew Eric Valdez, she said. Says the police killed him."
    "So why'd she tell you he was getting it on with Esmeralda Esteva?" Lundquist took notes but when he asked questions he never had to look back at the notebook for names.
    "I pushed her."
    "Un huh. Any other reasons?"
    "If I had to guess, I'd guess there was something jealous in it. Maybe she was taken with Valdez and was mad because Emmy took him away. Maybe she's warm for Emmy's husband. Maybe she killed Valdez and wanted to place the blame somewhere else."
    "It's just the opposite," Lundquist said. "It calls attention to her."
    "I didn't say she was smart," I said.
    "Why'd the police kill Valdez, does she say?"
    "As far as I could gather it was because he was Hispanic. She says Rogers was an evil man."
    "I don't know about evil," Lundquist said. "He was a fair asshole though."
    "Thought he was Wyatt Earp?"
    "Seemed to," Lundquist said. "Spent most of his time making sure you knew what a herd bull he was."
    I nodded.
    "You know anything else?" Lundquist said.
    "No."
    "Still puts you ahead of us. Why do you suppose cops were on your ass so much when you