Sixkill Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  THE SPENSER NOVELS

  Painted Ladies

  The Professional

  Rough Weather

  Now & Then

  Hundred-Dollar Baby

  School Days

  Cold Service

  Bad Business

  Back Story

  Widow's Walk

  Potshot

  Hugger Mugger

  Hush Money

  Sudden Mischief

  Small Vices

  Chance

  Thin Air

  Walking Shadow

  Paper Doll

  Double Deuce

  Pastime

  Stardust

  Playmates

  Crimson Joy

  Pale Kings and Princes

  Taming a Sea-Horse

  A Catskill Eagle

  Valediction

  The Widening Gyre

  Ceremony

  A Savage Place

  Early Autumn

  Looking for Rachel Wallace

  The Judas Goat

  Promised Land

  Mortal Stakes

  God Save the Child

  The Godwulf Manuscript

  THE JESSE STONE NOVELS

  Split Image

  Night and Day

  Stranger in Paradise

  High Profile

  Sea Change

  Stone Cold

  Death in Paradise

  Trouble in Paradise

  Night Passage

  THE SUNNY RANDALL NOVELS

  Spare Change

  Blue Screen

  Melancholy Baby

  Shrink Rap

  Perish Twice

  Family Honor

  THE VIRGIL COLE/EVERETT HITCH NOVELS

  Blue-Eyed Devil

  Brimstone

  Resolution

  Appaloosa

  ALSO BY ROBERT B. PARKER

  Double Play

  Gunman's Rhapsody

  All Our Yesterdays

  A Year at the Races (with Joan H. Parker)

  Perchance to Dream

  Poodle Springs (with Raymond Chandler)

  Love and Glory

  Wilderness

  Three Weeks in Spring (with Joan H. Parker)

  Training with Weights (with John R. Marsh)

  G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

  Publishers Since 1838

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA * Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) * Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England * Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) * Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) *

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  New Delhi-110 017, India * Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale,

  North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson

  New Zealand Ltd) * Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd,

  24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Copyright (c) 2011 by The Estate of Robert B. Parker

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Published simultaneously in Canada

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Parker, Robert B.

  Sixkill / Robert B. Parker.

  p. cm.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-51466-5

  1. Spenser (Fictitious character)--Fiction. 2. Private investigators--Fiction.

  3. Murder--Investigation--Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3566.A686S

  813'.54--dc22

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication.

  Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  As always, for Joan.

  And this one's for Lou Zambello.

  1

  IT WAS SPRING. The vernal equinox had done whatever it was it did, and the late March air drifting in through the open window in my office was soft even though it wasn't really warm yet. Spring training was under way in full tiresomeness, and opening day was two weeks off.

  I was drinking coffee and studying a new comic strip called Frazz to see if there were any existential implications that I might be missing, when Quirk came in and went to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup, added sugar and condensed milk, and took a seat opposite my desk.

  "Care for coffee?" I said.

  "Got some," Quirk said. "Nice of you to ask."

  "You ever read Frazz?" I said.

  "What the fuck is Frazz," Quirk said.

  He was as big as I was, which is biggish, and always dressed well. Today he had on a chestnut-colored Harris tweed jacket. His hands were thick, and there was in his eyes a look of implacable resolution that made most people careful with him.

  "A comic strip in the Globe," I said. "It's new."

  "I'm a grown man," Quirk said.

  "And a police captain," I said.

  "Exactly," Quirk said. "I don'
t read comic strips."

  "I withdraw the question," I said.

  Quirk nodded.

  "I need something," he said.

  "Everyone says so."

  He ignored me. Quirk ignored a lot. He wasn't being impolite. He was merely focused, and I had known for years that he cared very little what other people thought.

  "You know about Jumbo Nelson?"

  "The actor," I said.

  "Yes."

  "Here shooting a movie," I said.

  "Yeah."

  "You guys think he murdered a young woman," I said.

  "He's a person of interest," Quirk said.

  I looked at him. I'd known him a long time.

  "And?" I said.

  "Lemme fill you in," Quirk said.

  I got up and poured myself more coffee, and warmed Quirk's up. Then I put the pot on the burner, sat down in my chair, and leaned back with my feet up.

  "Do," I said.

  "Real name's Jeremy Franklin Nelson," Quirk said. "Ever seen him?"

  "Seen his photograph," I said. "Never seen a movie."

  "Photo's enough," Quirk said. "You can see where the nickname came from."

  "I can," I said.

  "He's in town," Quirk said, "shooting a movie. Which you know."

  "As yet untitled," I said.

  "Frazz tell you that?" Quirk said.

  "I'm adventurous," I said. "Sometimes I read other stuff."

  "Fucking media's treating this like it was the Lindbergh kidnapping."

  "Lotta media to fill," I said.

  "Too much," Quirk said. "Always was. Anyway, Jumbo is in town, travels with a bodyguard, an Indian."

  "A Native American?"

  Quirk nodded.

  "Like I said."

  "Could be an India Indian," I said.

  "This guy's American Indian," Quirk said. "Wait'll you get a load of him."

  "Dangerous?" I said.

  "I dunno," Quirk said. "Looks good."

  "Bodyguard involved?" I said.

  "In the crime? Not that I know of," Quirk said.

  "Press tells me that Jumbo raped and murdered a young woman and should be beheaded at once."

  "Yeah," Quirk said. "That's what they tell me, too. What everybody tells me."

  "You have doubts?"

  Quirk shrugged.

  "Here's what I know," he said. "Girl's name is Dawn Lopara, twenty years old, graduated last year from Bunker Hill Community College, was not employed."

  Quirk sipped some coffee.

  "More sugar," he said.

  He went to the coffeemaker on the file cabinet and got some, and stirred it in, and sat back down. He took another sip and nodded.

  "She's watching them shoot a scene outdoors on the Common, near Park Street Station, and Jumbo spots her. He sends a production assistant over to invite her to have lunch with him in the commissary. She's thrilled."

  "As I would be," I said.

  "Yeah," Quirk said. "Me too. So she has lunch with all the stars and the movie crew, and Jumbo gets her phone number and says maybe they can get together later, and she says oh-wow-yes."

  "Do you know she said that?"

  "The oh-wow-yes?" Quirk said. "No. So he calls her that night and she goes over to his hotel. They drink some champagne. They do some lines. They have sex. When they get through, they get dressed. Jumbo excuses himself for a moment while he goes to the bathroom. And while he's gone she lies back down on the bed and dies."

  "I was having sex with Jumbo Nelson," I said, "I might consider it myself."

  "It was after," Quirk said.

  "Maybe she died of shame," I said.

  "There was considerable bruising around the vaginal area," Quirk said.

  "Suggesting an, ah, accessory object?"

  "ME isn't sure," Quirk said. "Maybe Jumbo really is jumbo."

  "Cause of death?" I said.

  "ME thinks it's asphyxiation," Quirk said. "They found some ligature marks on her neck. But they don't seem entirely comfortable with how they got there."

  "They're not sure?" I said.

  "No."

  "Aren't they supposed to be sure?" I said.

  "For crissake," Quirk said. "One case I had, they lost the fucking body."

  "That would be disheartening," I said.

  "Was," Quirk said. "Also, when they're not sure, it gives a lot of space for rumors."

  "I heard one report that the accessory object was the neck of a champagne bottle and it broke inside her and she bled to death."

  Quirk shook his head.

  "I know," Quirk said. "No evidence of it."

  "I don't think the Internet requires evidence."

  "Or knows how to get it," Quirk said.

  "How 'bout Jumbo?" I said.

  "Says he doesn't know what happened. Admits he was whacked on coke and booze. He says he left her alone and when he came back in the bedroom, he notices she's not responsive. Tries to wake her up. Can't. And calls nine-one-one."

  "He'd been on top of her?" I said.

  "Apparently," Quirk said. "At some point."

  "Jesus," I said.

  "I know, and we've thought about that."

  "How much does he weigh?" I said.

  "Don't know," Quirk said. "I'd say three-fifty to four hundred. He claims he doesn't know, either."

  "What kind of guy is he?" I said.

  "Awful," Quirk said. "Food, booze, dope, sex. Never saw a girl too young. Or a guy."

  "Long as it's alive?" I said.

  "I don't know if he requires that," Quirk said.

  "But a nice guy aside from his hobbies," I said.

  "Loud, arrogant, stupid, foulmouthed," Quirk said.

  "You think he's foulmouthed?"

  "Fucking A," Quirk said.

  2

  SPRING WAS STILL drifting in.

  "Everybody likes him for it," Quirk said. "Us, the studio, people on the crew, everybody. Girl's parents."

  "You like him for it?" I said.

  "Governor likes him for it. Mayor likes him for it. Commissioner loves him. Command staff loves him more. Senate president. House speaker. Both newspapers. Everybody on TV. Every fucking cyberspace moron who can type," Quirk said.

  "You?" I said.

  "I don't think he murdered her," Quirk said. "Or if he did, we don't have enough hard evidence to say it. We're guessing."

  "And everybody wants it to go away and take him with it," I said.

  "They do," Quirk said. "He was probably with her when she died, and what they were doing may have killed her, I don't know. But I don't think you can convict a guy of murder on what we've got, and I'm afraid we might."

  "The fact that he's a creep helps move it along," I said.

  "It's not illegal to be a pain in the ass," Quirk said. "It was, you and me probably be doing time."

  "Maybe you," I said. "Whaddya need from me?"

  "I want you to look into it," Quirk said.

  "Because you can't?"

  "Correct," Quirk said.

  "Anybody gonna pay me?" I said.

  "The movie studio has hired Rita Fiore to represent Jumbo," Quirk said. "I've talked to her. She says Cone, Oakes will hire you to investigate."

  "And bill the studio," I said.

  "Be my guess," Quirk said.

  "What makes you think he didn't commit first-degree murder?" I said.

  "Maybe he did," Quirk said. "And if he did, we'll try to prove it. But right now I think he's being railroaded, and I can't stop it and stay a cop."

  "What if I find out that he's guilty as charged?"

  "Tell me," Quirk said. "I'll be thrilled. You want to look at our notes, so far?"

  "I like to start fresh," I said. "I think better if I'm in the process."

  "Yeah," Quirk said. "I know."

  "Okay," I said.

  "Okay you'll take the job?"

  "Yep."

  "Just like that?" Quirk said.

  "Yep," I said.

  "You might start out by t
alking to Rita Fiore," Quirk said.

  "You might start out by not telling me what to do," I said.

  "Okay," Quirk said. "What are you gonna do?"

  "I'm gonna talk to Rita Fiore," I said.

  "Good idea," Quirk said.

  He almost smiled.

  3

  PEARL SCRATCHED at the bedroom door.

  Susan got out of bed naked and let Pearl in, then came back and got into bed too late to keep Pearl from getting between us. Susan tried to pull the covers up, but Pearl was in the way.

  "You cold?" I said.

  "I don't like to lie around naked," Susan said.

  "I've seen you naked five thousand times," I said.

  "That's not the point," she said.

  She was trying to get the covers out from under Pearl so that she could pull them over herself.

  "What is the point?"

  "Lying around naked is wanton," she said.

  "And that's a bad thing?" I said.

  "You keep peeking at me," Susan said.

  "I don't peek," I said. "I stare."

  Pearl moved around vigorously for a moment until she was entirely comfortable, and put her head down in a position that allowed her to look at both of us.

  Susan looked at her alarm clock.

  "It's ten o'clock in the morning," she said.

  "On a Saturday," I said.

  "And we've already had sex," she said.

  "Nice start to the weekend," I said.

  "And we'll probably have sex again before the weekend is over," she said.

  "If we can shake Pearl," I said.

  "We're grown people," she said.

  "I know," I said.

  "Don't you think we're oversexed?"

  "You're the shrink," I said. "You tell me."

  "Yes," she said. "I believe we are."

  "What should we do about it?" I said.

  "Encourage the pathology," Susan said, and smiled her rebelangel smile at me.

  We were quiet. The sun wasn't high enough yet to shine into Susan's bedroom window, which faced west. But the light outside the window was bright.

  "Quirk wants you to help him with that Jumbo Whosis murder," she said.

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "He thinks Jumbo might be getting railroaded," I said.

  "Can't he stop that himself?"

  "No," I said.

  "He's in charge of the investigation, isn't he?"

  "Officially," I said. "But there are a number of people in charge of him."

  "Such as?"

  "Senior command staff. Commissioner. Mayor, governor . . . and such. All of them pressured by the media."