Second Shot

She shook her head and for a moment I thought she was going to cry, but she swallowed the tears back down again. ‘And now,” she continued in a low voice, “you tell me he might have somehow caused the death of this investigator? What kind of monster would that make him?”

“That’s Neagley’s theory, not mine,” I said quickly. “She’s worried enough to have hired in some additional security. I think perhaps it might be a good idea if you considered doing the same.”

“No,” Simone said without pause for thought.

I took a breath. “I’m not armed, Simone,” I said quietly “I can’t legally carry a gun over here. Maybe, if Neagley’s right, you should think about bringing in someone who can.”

“No. I won’t have guns around Ella.” Simone met my eyes, determined, stubborn. “Looks like you’ll have to do the best you can, Charlie.”

We picked up the trolleybus for our tour of Boston at the stop just outside the Aquarium, retracing our steps along the harbor front to get there. No more snow had fallen since our arrival, but despite the pale sunshine, what was on the ground was showing no signs of melting. Ella still seemed enthralled by it, dragging her mother on a meandering course to inspect the larger piles of the stuff.

As usual, I walked a pace or so behind Simone and to the side, keeping my eyes open. After her confession of the night before, she didn’t seem much inclined to talk to me, in any case.

There were around twenty stops on the tour and-with buses running every twenty-five minutes-you could get off and get back on again more or less at will. Simone sat next to Ella in the seats directly in front of mine. It was below freezing outside and the little girl was dressed up warmly against the bitter chill in the air, with fake-fur ear warmers and some new sheepskin mittens that were actually on strings from her coat sleeves. Just because Simone was rolling in it didn’t mean she was going to be happy if her daughter lost a brand-new glove.

The trolley took us on a set route, the driver giving an informal and joke-laden commentary that mainly seemed to center on how badly the British army had got its arse whupped during the War of Independence. I tried not to take it personally. We passed the house where Paul Revere lived with his fourteen children and the obelisk-like memorial to the battle of Bunker Hill.

Stop number six on the tour was Boston Common, an open area that presented a startlingly white blanket. The sun had put in an appearance and the reflection off the crystallized surface was almost too bright to look at directly

Ella jiggled in her seat at the sight of it, tugging on her mother’s sleeve, and when Simone bent towards her, whispered in her ear.

“I promised, didn’t I, sweetie?” Simone said as the bus came to a stop. She twisted in her seat as the bus slowed, and said casually over her shoulder, “We’ll get off here, Charlie. Ella wants a walk in the park.” And before I had a chance to object, they were on their feet and moving towards the doorway.

I hurried after them, trying to clamp down on my irritation. I had time briefly to wonder what part of the possibility of the increased danger Simone and I had discussed the night before she was having difficulty taking on board.

Boston Common was surprisingly quiet. Apart from the skaters on the frozen Frog Pond, who were all progressing in a slow clockwise crawl, I think the squirrels outnumbered the people. Ella quickly wore the novelty out of the huge white carpet that covered the grass, and it wasn’t until her mother suggested building a snowman that she perked up.

Ella was an enthusiastic but not very scientific snowman builder. Si-mone ended up being the one who scooped together enough snow to make a rounded body, while Ella ran round chucking wild fistfuls of the stuff at both of us and shrieking whenever she thought we were going to retaliate.

Simone just grinned at her and flicked me a reproachful little side ways look, as if to say, How could you want to deprive her of this?

I picked up a handful of snow myself and molded it absently into a ball, but apart from dodging Ella’s less inaccurate throws, I didn’t join in the fun and games. Boston Common was open enough for nobody to be able to creep up on us without my being aware of it, but we seemed a long way from the surrounding streets and any passersby who might help to deter any attempt as well. Neagley’s warning went round and round in my head. Why hadn’t anyone asked more questions right from the start about Simone’s mystery father?

Without any activity to keep my circulation going, it was bitterly cold. I was glad I had a hat pulled down over my ears, but my cheeks were going numb. I huddled down farther inside my coat and tried not to shiver as I did yet another sweep of the area surrounding us, as I’d been doing every minute or so since we’d got off the trolleybus, without spotting anything that set any alarm bells ringing.