Hugger Mugger (10 page)

I
T WAS
M
ONDAY
morning, bright, still early June and not very hot. I was in my office, drinking coffee and reading the paper while I waited for business. I'd drunk my allotment of coffee, and read the paper, and put it away before any showed up, but when it came it was interesting. A woman came into my office, briskly, as if offices were designed for her to walk into. I began to stand up. She indicated there was no need to, but by that time I was on my feet anyway.

“I'm Valerie Hatch,” she said, and put out her hand. “You're Spenser.”

“Right on both counts,” I said, and shook her hand.

“Owen Brooks suggested I might speak to you about my situation. You know Owen?”

“Yes.”

Owen Brooks was, improbably, the district attorney of Suffolk County. He was black, Harvard-educated, smart, humorous, pleasant, tolerant, and tougher than a Kevlar
gumdrop. In a political office, he seemed primarily concerned with the successful prosecution of criminals.

“He said this was a circumstance that might best be dealt with informally, that is to say, by someone like yourself.”

“Then it will have to be myself,” I said. “There's no one else like me.”

“Owen also told me that you found yourself amusing.”

“How do you know Owen?” I said.

“I am a litigator at a major law firm in this city—which one is not germane to my reason for being here.”

“Sure,” I said. “What is your reason?”

“I am a single mother,” she said. “And a woman with a career. To balance those two responsibilities I employ a nanny.”

“That's what I'd do,” I said.

She paid no attention to me. I didn't feel bad. I was pretty sure she didn't pay much attention to anyone, engrossed as she was with being a single mother and a woman with a career.

“Kate is a lovely girl,” Valerie said, “but she has made some unwise choices in her past life, and one of them now threatens not only my nanny but my child.”

“Kate is the nanny?” I said.

Valerie looked surprised. “Yes. Kate Malloy.”

“And what is her problem?” I said.

“She is being stalked by a former lover.”

“She been to the cops?” I said.

“She has, and I've spoken with Owen. We have a restraining order, but . . .” She shrugged.

I could tell that she didn't like shrugging. She wasn't used to it. She was used to nodding decisively.

“She call the cops when the lover shows up?” I said.

“Yes. Sometimes they come promptly. Sometimes they don't.”

“What is the lover's name?”

“
Ex-
lover. His name is Kevin Shea.”

“Has Kevin threatened her?”

“Yes. And he poses a threat to my child.”

“Whose name is?”

“Miranda.”

“And she's how old?”

“Sixteen months. Why are you asking all these questions?”

“So I can follow what you say. Has Kevin harmed Kate?”

“When they were together he beat her.”

“And has he threatened Miranda?”

“His presence threatens Miranda. Kate can't take care of her if she's being harassed by this ape.”

“And you wish to employ me?” I said.

“Yes. Owen said you were the man.”

“What do you wish to employ me to do?”

“Make him go away.”

“Do you have a course of action in mind?”

“No, of course not, how would I? That's what you're supposed to know. I wish he were dead.”

“Dead is not generally a part of the service,” I said.

She shook her head as if a fly were annoying her.

“It was just a remark. I am at my wit's end. I need you to help me straighten this out.”

“Okay,” I said.

“How much do you charge?”

I told her.

“Isn't that a lot of money?” she said.

“You came here asking me to save your child,” I said.

“So you boosted the price?”

“No. That's the price. I was trying to help you decide if it's worth paying.”

“By playing on a mother's guilt?”

I didn't remember anything about guilt, but I let it ride.

“Can you do it?”

“Sure,” I said. “I can eat this guy's lunch.”

“Do you require payment to start?”

“No. I'll bill you when it's done.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'll speak with Kate.”

“She's very frightened. You'll have to be careful with her.”

“I'll need an address.”

Valerie took out a business card and wrote on the back.

“I'd prefer that you talk to her when I'm there.”

“Sure.”

“This evening?”

“Yes.”

“Seven?”

“Fine.”

She stood. I stood.

“Where is Kate now?”

“I sent her and Miranda to my mother's home in
Brookline,” Valerie said. “Until I could arrange for her safety. That's the address on the back of my card.”

“I'll meet you there,” I said.

She looked at me the way people look at racehorses before the auction.

“Well, you look as if you'd be formidable,” she said.

“You should see me in my red cape,” I said.

“I'm sure I should,” she said.

I
TALKED WITH
Kate in the living room of a big half-timbered Tudor-style house on a side road off of Route 9 not very far from Longwood Tennis Club. Miranda made a brief appearance in joint custody of Valerie's mother and a Shih Tzu named Buttons. Miranda seemed overdressed to me, and mildly uneasy. But I was inexpert with sixteen-month-old kids. The Shih Tzu sniffed my ankles thoughtfully, and then followed Miranda and her grandmother from the room.

“The dog is a Shih Tzu?” I said.

Valerie said it was.

“Knew a woman in Ames, Iowa, had one of those.”

“How nice,” Valerie said.

“Dog's name was Buttons too.”

Valerie smiled stiffly.

Beside Valerie, on the yellow-flowered couch in a bay of the overdecorated living room, was a plain young
woman with red hair and very white skin. I sat on a hassock in front of the couch.

“You're Kate,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you are being stalked by a man named Kevin Shea,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

“What's your relationship to him?” I said.

“We're not related.”

“Were you lovers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And now you're not.”

“No, sir.”

“What does he do when he stalks you?” I said.

“He follows me around.”

“Does he speak to you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What does he say?”

“He swears at me and stuff.”

“Does he threaten you?”

“He says if he can't have me no one else will.”

“Has he ever hurt you?”

“You mean now, when he follows me?”

“At any time,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

Slow going. I felt that I'd had better conversations with Hugger Mugger.

“What did he do?” I said.

“He hit me once, when we lived together.”

“Was he drunk?”

“Oh yes, sir. He drinks a lot. Says it's the only way to deal with the pain.”

“What was it that attracted you to him?” I said.

“He loved me.”

“And now, why is he stalking you, do you think?”

“Because he loves me. He can't bear to give me up.”

Valerie said, “Kate, that's ridiculous.”

“And how do you feel about him?” I said.

“I'm afraid of him. He's so crazy in love with me. I don't know what he'll do.”

“How would you like me to handle this?” I said.

“I don't want him to get in trouble,” Kate said.

Valerie was appalled.

“For God's sake,” she said. “Kate!”

“Well, I don't,” Kate said. “He loves me.”

“How can you say that?” Valerie said. “He has beaten you. He threatens to kill you. This isn't love, it's obsession.”

“I don't know about that psychology stuff. But I know he's crazy about me.”

“He's crazy, all right,” Valerie said.

Kate's small, pale face pinched up a little tighter. She wasn't going to give up the great romance of her life.

“So,” I said. “If you care this much about him, why did you leave him?”

“Kevin wasn't working. There was no money. I needed this job.”

I looked at Valerie Hatch.

“I told Kate that her responsibility was Miranda, and that she couldn't exercise that responsibility properly if her low-life boyfriend was hanging around.”

I nodded.

“You live in?” I said to Kate.

“Yes, sir, in Ms. Hatch's place on Commonwealth Avenue.”

“We have a large condominium,” Valerie said. “Near the corner of Dartmouth.”

“So if you live there, and Ms. Hatch doesn't want him around, you don't get to see him much.”

“No, sir, hardly at all.”

“When do you see him?”

“When I'm walking Miranda, or at the playground.”

“Are you afraid of Kevin?” I said.

“Yes, sir, he's so angry.”

“Why don't you quit this job and go back and live with Kevin?”

Valerie said, “Spenser, dammit . . .”

I put a hand up for her to be quiet. Surprisingly, she was.

“I need the money,” Kate said. “And Miranda. I don't want to leave Miranda.”

“You care about the kid,” I said.

“I love her.”

I nodded.

“I don't see where you are going with these questions,” Valerie said.

“I never do either, until I ask them.”

“Kevin Shea is an uneducated, unemployed drunk,” Valerie said. “I don't want him around my daughter, or my daughter's nanny. And quite frankly, I don't want my daughter's nanny living with such a person.”

“I think I can follow that,” I said.

“I should hope so,” Valerie said.

“Can you put me in touch with Kevin?” I said to Kate.

“I don't know where he's living now. He's not at the place we were.”

“Is he likely to show up someplace where you are going?”

“The little park,” she said. “I take Miranda there every day. He comes there a lot. And when I wheel her carriage along the river.”

“You never led me to believe it was this regular,” Valerie said.

“Why don't you and I go down to the park tomorrow?” I said to Kate. “And maybe walk along the river.”

“I will not allow you to expose my daughter to this man,” Valerie said.

“Perhaps she could stay with you,” I said.

“I have a day filled with meetings tomorrow,” Valerie said.

“Your mother?”

“Tomorrow is my mother's golf day.”

“And I suppose Buttons isn't up to the job,” I said.

“This is not a frivolous matter,” Valerie said.

“See if your mother can forgo golf tomorrow,” I said.

Valerie looked annoyed, but appeared ready to humor me.

“I'll meet you in front of the Commonwealth Ave. place at what, nine
A
.
M
.?” I said to Kate. “Is there a stroller or something that you normally use?”

“Yes.”

“Bring it.”

“Without the baby?”

“Yes.”

“What if he tries to hurt me?” Kate said.

“I won't let him,” I said.

“He's awfully big and strong,” Kate said.

“Me too,” I said.

“I don't want him to be hurt,” Kate said.

“For God's sake, Kate. Listen to yourself.”

Kate didn't say anything. She just stared at the rug in front of her.

“Okay,” I said. “Tomorrow, you come out wheeling the stroller, and go where you usually go. Don't look for me. I'll be there, but I don't want to scare Kevin away.”

“What will you do if he comes?”

“I'll reason with him,” I said.