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Authors: Robert B. Parker

BOOK: The Boxer and the Spy
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“What’s going to happen to Kip?” Abby said.
“His father’s on the way. We’ll hold him until then and release him to his father. There any money?”
“His father’s a doctor,” Abby said.
“Okay. He stays with his story, which I take to be the truth ...” Fogarty said.
“We do too,” Abby said.
Fogarty nodded.
“All he’s really guilty of is disposing of a dead body,” Fogarty said.
“And being a really big jerk,” Terry said.
“Lot of that going around,” Fogarty said. “It’s not criminal.... He helps us fry the two big fish and hires a good lawyer, which is why I asked about the money, I suspect they’ll work something out with the prosecutor and he won’t have to do any time.”
“Will you speak to somebody about him?” Abby said.
“If he stays on board with us,” Fogarty said. “Yeah. I’ll talk to the ADA on the case.”
“What about Mr. Bullard and Mrs. Trent?” Terry asked.
“We’ll arrest them both. If it goes the way these things often do,” Fogarty said, “my guess is that it’ll be a footrace to see which one can blame it all on the other one, and they’ll implicate each other.”
“I hope so,” Abby said.
As they came into the waiting room, George stood.
“Waiting for these kids?” Fogarty said.
“I am,” George said.
“You the guy gave Bullard the shiner?”
“I am,” George said.
“I used to box a little,” Fogarty said.
“I used to box a lot,” George said.
Fogarty smiled and made a good-point gesture with his forefinger.
“On the other hand,” Fogarty said, “I got a gun.”
George smiled and made the same good-point gesture at Fogarty.
There was something going on between George and the big state cop. Something Terry didn’t quite get. They were friendly, but they were circling each other a little, like two male dogs. Maybe the way tough guys were. He filed it.
“You teach this kid to box?” Fogarty said.
“Yes.”
“Did a good job,” Fogarty said. “Far as I can tell.”
“I did,” George said.
Wow!
Terry looked at Abby. She smiled at him.
“You got a gym in town?” Fogarty said.
“Yep.”
“Maybe I’ll come down and spar with you sometime.”
George smiled.
“No guns,” he said.
Fogarty smiled back.
“None,” he said.
He looked at Terry and Abby.
“We’ll be in touch,” Fogarty said.
“Yes sir,” Terry said.
Fogarty turned to George.
“These kids don’t belong here,” he said.
“That’s correct,” George said.
Fogarty shook hands with each of them.
Then he said to George, “So, get them out of here.”
George nodded at Terry and Abby and the three of them left.
CHAPTER 47
T
hey sat where they liked to sit, on the rocks, near the beach, where the sunlight was glistening on the water, which was a blue reflection of the cloudless sky, and the waves moved steady and restless, below them. There was a small breeze.
“I feel bad for Kip,” Abby said.
“Kip?” Terry said.
“Yes.”
“You never call him Kip,” Terry said. “You always call him Kip Carter All-American. Like it was one big word.”
“That was before I felt bad for him.”
“Because he’s in trouble?” Terry said.
“Yes, but not just that. Because he was like everybody else and he was trying so hard not to be.”
“What’s everybody else like?” Terry said.
There were some sailboats in the harbor, some tacking back and forth, beating up into the wind, some with the sheet way out running straight before the wind.
“Kind of scared, not sure about what you should do, trying to fit in, hoping for a good future,” Abby said. “You know”
“We’re not like that,” Terry said.
Abby didn’t answer for a while. She watched the sailboats and felt the clean air from the ocean as she breathed.
Then she said, “No, we’re not.”
“So?” Terry said. “How come we’re not like everybody else?”
Again Abby watched the ocean rolling out in front of her, out of the harbor, and across the Atlantic, and eventually lapping at the coast of Spain or someplace.
Finally she said, “We have each other.”
Terry felt for a moment as if he were short of breath.
We have each other.
He breathed in the salt air until he felt calmer.
“We’re fifteen,” he said. “And we found each other already? Is that possible? Can you find somebody at fifteen?”
“Yes.”
“And spend your life with them?” Terry said.
“Yes.”
“And you know that, at fifteen?”
“Don’t you?” Abby said.
“Yes,” he said. “What about the boxing? You sounded like that was a problem.”
“George made me understand,” Abby said.
“By what he said about anger?”
“A little bit,” Abby said. “But mostly by what he is.”
“George boxed all his life,” Terry said. “Did you see him take out Old Man Bullard?”
“And George is a good man,” Abby said.
“Yes,” Terry said.
“The best I ever met,” Abby said.
“So if I grow up to be like George, we’ll be fine?”
“Very fine,” Abby said.
A herring gull swung down and landed near them on the rocks and looked for food. It found none. It looked at Terry and Abby. There was nothing there for it either. It turned and flew away.
“So,” Terry said as they watched the bird fly off, “if we’re going to be together, do you think you might get a butterfly tattoo on your butt?”
She smiled at him and put out her hand. He took it. They looked at each other.
Then Abby said, “How do you know I don’t already?”
Praise for Robert B. Parker’s
EDENVILLE OWLS
 
“The poignant, well-articulated coming-of-age moments deepen the heart-pounding suspense.... Exciting!”
—
Booklist
 
“Compelling.”—
Kirkus Reviews
 
“A thought-provoking mystery.”—
School Library Journal
Robert B. Parker,
recipient of the Grand Master Edgar Award, is a pillar of American detective fiction. He is the author of more than fifty books for adults, including the New York Times bestselling Spenser and Jesse Stone novels. The Boxer and the Spy is his second book for young readers.
A lifelong resident of Massachusetts, he and his wife, Joan, currently live in Cambridge, where Mr. Parker has on more than one occasion stepped into the boxing ring—but just for the fun of it.

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