Free Widow’s Walk by Robert B. Parker

I said. “His wife has been accused of the crime. I’ve been employed by her law firm to clear her.”
    “If she didn’t do it,” Shawcross said.
    “I’m not sure the law firm cares,” I said. “But I do. We don’t have to be silly here, right? Since Nathan Smith is listed on your board of directors, we’ll agree that you know him and since you are on his wife’s invitation list we’ll agree that you know her.”
    “Agreed,” Shawcross said.
    He was not a nervous guy. From their respective walls Hawk and the security squad were looking at each other.
    “So as soon as I get hired onto this thing, I pick up a tail. My associate, Mr. Hawk, here, followed the tail back to this building. The tail was driving a car registered to this company.”
    Shawcross nodded, and said, “Um hm.”
    “I didn’t do anything about the tail,” I said. “Because I wanted to see if I could figure out why you were tailing me.”
    “It was not necessarily me,” Shawcross said.
    “Yesterday I talked with a guy named Brinkman Tyler, and after I finished, the tail made a pass at me.”
    “A pass?”
    “They assaulted me,” I said. “Wanted to know what I had talked with Tyler about.”
    “Really?” Shawcross said. “Did you tell them?”
    “No.”
    “If you’re trying to clear Mary Smith of her husband’s murder, why are you talking to his broker?”
    “Gotta talk to someone,” I said. “Did you do any business with Nathan Smith?” I said.
    “Business?”
    “You develop real estate. He has mortgage money. He’s on your board.”
    “It would be inappropriate for him to lend money to a business he was involved with,” Shawcross said.
    “How involved was he?”
    “Not,” Shawcross said. “His presence on the board was a titular formality. But the bank regulators would frown on it nonetheless.”
    “So why have you been following me?”
    “I know nothing of anyone following you. Do you know about that, Curtis?”
    Hatfield frowned. It was harder now that his cheek was puffy, but he managed.
    “No,” he said. “I don’t.”
    “Do your employees have access to the company cars?” I said.
    “They’re not supposed to,” Shawcross said. “You know anything about this, Curtis?”
    “No.”
    “I’m afraid I can’t do much for you, Mr. Spenser,” Shawcross said. “I’ll certainly look into your charges, and inform you if we find anything substantial.”
    “I know you will,” I said.
    “In the meantime,” Shawcross said, “should you feel inclined to barge in here again, you will be apprehended and held for the police.”
    “We’re fairly hard to apprehend,” I said. “Aren’t we, Mr. Hawk.”
    “Heavens, yes,” Hawk said.
    “I don’t intend to get into a pissing contest with you,” Shawcross said. “I think we have nothing else to discuss.”
    “Until next time,” I said.
    No one else said anything as Hawk and I walked out of the office and down the corridor. As we passed through the reception area Hawk winked at the receptionist. She smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
    I was sitting in the guidance office at Franklin High School, talking with a sturdy gray-haired woman named Ethel Graffino.
    “Mary Toricelli,” she said. “Name doesn’t ring a bell. A lot of students passed through here in thirty-five years.”
    “Class of 1989,” I said. “Used to date a boy named Roy Levesque.”
    “Him I remember,” Mrs. Graffino said. “He was in here a lot.”
    “Why?”
    “Bad kid. Stole. Peddled dope. Cheated. Bullied any kids he could. I believe he dropped out without graduating.”
    “We all cheated,” I said.
    Mrs. Graffino smiled. “I know, but we’re still required to condemn it.”
    “How about friends.”
    “Roy’s? Or Mary’s?”
    “Either.”
    “I can give you class lists,” she said.
    “Two years on either side?”
    “‘Eighty-seven through ’ninety-one? Are you going to harass these people?”
    “No. I’m just going to ask them pleasantly about Mary and