Now and then - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,32

elevator. I moved and blocked him again.

“How’d you happen to hook up with Alderson?” I said. He took two handfuls of my jacket up near my neck.

“You gonna move, or am I gonna move you?” he said. He was a big guy, bigger than I was, but jacket grabbing is an amateur move, and I suspected he’d gotten by much of his tough guy life on being big rather than skillful.

“Okay,” I said. “Okay. I’ll move.”

He grunted and shoved me scornfully away and started past. I kicked both his ankles out from under him and he went down sideways and hard on the cement floor of the parking garage. I stepped back and waited. It took him a minute.

“You tripped me,” he said. “You fucking sissy.”

“Sort of,” I said.

It took him a minute but he got his feet under him and got up and charged me. I moved a little and steered him past me and into the trunk of a car parked next to his. He grunted and steadied himself against the car. The impact had set off the car alarm and the horn began honking rhythmically.

“Stand still,” he said. “You fi ght like a fucking girl.”

“You think?” I said.

No one normally paid much attention to car alarms. But there might be a security guy with too much time on his hands. Best to end it. Red came after me a little more carefully now. His fists were up in front of his face. I feinted at his body with my left hand and then hooked it up over his guard when it 157 dropped. It staggered him, and I followed with an overhand right that put him on his back. He stayed there waiting for his head to clear. When it did he sat up.

“You some kind of fucking pro?” he said.

“I am,” I said.

“I don’t even know what we’re fi ghting about,” he said.

“I think you wanted to show me that you could kick my ass,”

I said.

“And maybe I can,” he said.

“Maybe,” I said. “Hasn’t been going too good so far.”

Still sitting, Red nodded.

“Whaddya want?” he said.

“I want to talk with you.”

“I ain’t ratting out Perry,” he said.

“No harm having some coffee,” I said. “Talking about it.”

He nodded. Red hadn’t been knocked on his ass very often. He was trying to adjust.

“Okay,” he said, and got slowly to his feet.

34.

I met epstein for breakfast at Zaftig’s in Brookline.

“There’s nothing closer?” I said when I sat down.

“It’s close for me,” Epstein said.

“You live in Brookline,” I said.

“Am I Jewish?” Epstein said.

“I think so,” I said.

“And I like a nice deli,” he said.

“My honey is Jewish and she lives in Cambridge,” I said.

“Sometimes they stray,” Epstein said.

“On the other hand, she is a shrink,” I said.

“But they never stray far,” he said.

“Comforting, isn’t it,” I said. “We got anything to talk about or have you just been missing me?”

“Good to stay in touch,” Epstein said. “The latkes here are fabulous.”

The waitress brought us coffee, and I ordered latkes with applesauce. Epstein had eggs and onions with some sable.

“The big red-haired guy,” Epstein said. “He’s not in the system either.”

“He didn’t seem like a pro to me,” I said. “He knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t have dissed Chollo.”

“Chollo?” Epstein said.

“Friend of mine from LA, be like dissing a cobra.”

Epstein smiled.

“Remind you of me?” he said.

“No.”

The waitress came with breakfast, and more coffee. I had a bite of latke.

“How are they?” Epstein said.

“How should they be?” I said.

“Fabulous,” Epstein said.

“They’re fabulous,” I said.

Epstein nodded.

“Name’s Darcy Englund,” Epstein said. “AKA Red.”

“I suspected that would be his nickname,” I said.

“Nice to confirm it,” Epstein said. “Only other thing we got is that Red’s been with Alderson at least as long as Alderson’s been at Concord College.”

“In what capacity?” I said.

“Red?” Epstein said. “Hard to say. Friend, driver, gofer, bodyguard. We don’t know. Mostly he’s just around.”

“Never been arrested,” I said.

“Nope.”

“Military service?” I said.

“Nope.”

“Visible means of support.”

“Last Hope,” Epstein said.

“Got a job title?”

“Nope. But he deposits a two-thousand-dollar paycheck from them every week.”

“Where’s he live?”

“Cambridge,” Epstein said. “Apartment on Hilliard Street.”

“Close to Alderson,” I said.

“Yep. About a block.”

“You got a tail on him?”

“No,” Epstein said. “He looks like small fish to me. We’re sticking with Alderson.”

We were quiet. I finished my latkes. Epstein finished his eggs and ate a piece of toast.

“No bagel?” I said.

“I try to avoid ethnic clichés,” Epstein said.

“Like eggs and onions with a nice piece of sable,” I said.

“So, sometimes I fail,” Epstein said. “Whadda you got?”

“Sheila and