The Front Read Free

other.”
    She pushes past him, hurrying along the busy sidewalk, cuts through an alleyway. Gone.
    Stump is stocking shelves with olive oil, the air pungent with the aroma of imported cheeses, prosciutto, salami. Some college kid is sitting behind the counter, lost in a paperback, the shop otherwise empty.
    â€œWhat’s with Raggedy Ann?” Win asks.
    Stump looks up from her crouched position in the aisle, hands him a corked bottle shaped like a flask. “Frantoio Gaziello. Unfiltered, a little grassy, with a hint of avocado. You’ll love it.”
    â€œShe was just in your shop? And right before that, she was hanging around Lamont and me at the School of Government. And I’ve seen her around the courthouse, too. A little coincidental, maybe?” He studies the bottle of olive oil, looking for the price. “Maybe she’s stalking me.”
    â€œI certainly would if I were some pitiful, deranged street person who thinks she’s a rag doll. Probably from one of the local shelters,” Stump says. “In and out, never buys anything except Fresca.”
    â€œSure drank it fast. Unless she didn’t finish it. Tossed the can in the trash as she was coming out of your store.”
    â€œHer MO. Looks around, drinks her Fresca, and leaves. Seems harmless.”
    â€œWell, she’s starting to give me a creepy feeling. What’s her name, and which shelter? I think it would be a good idea to run a background on her.”
    â€œI don’t know anything about her except she’s not right.” Twirling her finger at her temple.
    â€œSo, how long you known about Lamont’s assigning me to Watertown?”
    â€œLet me see.” She looks at her watch. “ You left your voice mail an hour and a half ago? Let me do the math. I’ve known for an hour and a half.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought. Nobody’s told you, so she makes sure from the get-go that you and I don’t get along.”
    â€œI don’t need some harebrained new hobby right now. She sends you to Watertown on some secret mission, don’t come crying to me.”
    He crouches next to her. “You ever heard of the Janie Brolin case?”
    â€œYou can’t grow up in Watertown and not have heard of that case, which was half a friggin’ century ago. Your DA’s nothing but a consummate, cold-blooded politician.”
    â€œShe’s your DA, too, unless Watertown PD’s seceded from Middlesex County.”
    â€œLook,” she says, “it’s not my problem. I don’t give a damn what she and the chief have cooked up. I’m not doing it.”
    â€œSince it occurred in Watertown, since there’s no statute of limitations for homicides, technically it is your problem if the case is reopened. And as of now, looks like it has been.”
    â€œTechnically, homicides in Massachusetts, with rare exception, such as Boston, are the jurisdiction of the state police. Certainly you guys remind us of that on a regular basis when you show up at the scene, take over the investigation, even if you don’t know a damn thing about anything. Sorry, you’re on your own.”
    â€œCome on, Stump. Don’t be like this.”
    â€œWe just had another bank robbery this morning.” Arranging bottles on shelves. “Fourth in three weeks. Plus the hair salon breaks, car breaks, house breaks, copper thefts, hate crimes. Never stops. I’m a little busy for cases that happened before I was born.”
    â€œSame bank robber?”
    â€œSame-o, same-o. Hands the teller a note, empties the cash drawer, call goes out over BAPERN.”
    Boston Area Police Emergency Radio Network. So local cops can talk to one another, assist one another.
    â€œMeaning every cop car on the planet shows up, lights and sirens full-tilt. All of downtown looks like a Christmas parade. Ensuring our one-man Bonnie and Clyde knows exactly where we are so he can stay out of