Silent Night: A Spenser Holiday Novel Read Online Free Page A

satisfactory for our needs, just not as convenient.”
    “I appreciate your subtlety, Father, but I’m just not that smart. How come you backed off Alvarez?”
    Father Ahearn chuckled and almost spilled his coffee. Hawk shifted slightly in his chair.
    “You strike me as quite astute, Mr. Spenser. Of course, the first thing we did was to approach one of the members of the Alvarez family,” Father Ahearn said. “Juan Alvarez, the family patriarch, is a generous benefactor to the parish, and to the Archbishop’s Annual Appeal. We would never try to strong-arm him or his family. It would be ungracious, not to mention foolish. On the other hand, Mr. Alvarez was the obvious person for the church to approach, and we did. For whatever reason, he has no interest in selling any of his properties on Curtis Street. And for that reason alone, we had to look elsewhere.”
    “Do you have any idea who might have a reason to try to force Street Business out of the neighborhood? Somebody who doesn’t care about the Annual Appeal?”
    He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I can’t help you. This can be a tough neighborhood, which is why we are trying to expand our ministry here, to bring peace and civility through our work. There is crime, and gang tensions flare up from time to time. But I have not heard of any threats or problems with Street Business specifically.”
    Hawk and I stood up, and Father Ahearn walked us back through the church. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said as the boys’ voices filled the nave. He shook our hands at the door. “Thank you for stopping by.”
    As we went down the long stone steps, Father Ahearn called out, “Merry Christmas!”
    I returned the greeting. Hawk was silent.
    We sat in my car and looked at the church.
    “Do you believe him?” I asked Hawk.
    “Been a long time since I believed anything from a priest,” said Hawk, “especially concerning young boys.”
    “Not all priests, Hawk,” I said. “Not even most priests. Most are trying to do good things, in places just like this and worse.”
    “Yeah,” he said. He fell silent and stared off into the middle distance.
    “I believe him,” he said finally. “No reason for the church to be beatin’ up kids so they can build a school. One thing don’t make sense, though.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Why Alvarez want to hold on to houses that are run-down and uninhabited?”
    “Maybe we should find out just how uninhabited those buildings really are. I hear looks can be deceiving.”

I DECIDED TO GO VISIT Street Business. It was in a big Victorian house on a quiet side street just beyond midtown Boston. The paint on the outside looked like a hippie’s dream: a faded mustard, with purple trim on the turrets and other extremities.
    There was a patch of lawn covered with dirty snow. The steps up to the front door, also painted purple, were icy.
    There was no bell. I had called Jackie that morning, and when I knocked he was at the door in seconds. “Hello, Spenser,” he welcomed me, flashing his disconcerting teeth. “Come in, come in.”
    We entered a room where his thick hair gleamed in the ergonomic lighting. There were big overstuffed sofas and chairs scattered around a fifty-inch flat-screen television, and bookshelves filled with books along the walls. Boys’ stuff was strewn around, jackets and a basketball, a PlayStation console and a batch of game cartridges. A baseball bat and a catcher’s mitt. A couple of boys got to their feet. Well trained.
    “Bobby and Sam, this is Mr. Spenser.” The boys stuck out their hands, and we shook. Jackie said, “Boys, why don’t you see about making yourselves some lunch.”
    Bobby and Sam went off. “The rest of them are working,” Jackie said.
    “How many live here?” I said.
    “We’ve housed as many as twenty, but right now we have twelve. That includes a couple of Juan’s guys, who help out. You know, they round up jobs, make sure the kids keep the place tidy.” He took me