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" He loved that park ... The poor dear."She'd let him play in the park a little late, while she was preparing supper. She'd assumed he was with friends. All his friends had gone home though, leaving him there alone to ride the slide a few more times, to swing on the swings a little while longer, to climb, to run, to be alive.By the time she'd gone out looking for him, it was after dark. The park was deserted. She'd felt sick with worry, but even then, she'd assumed he'd just gone over to a friend's house. She tried all his friend's houses though, and nobody knew where he was. Then she went back to the park, calling for him, and eventually screaming for him. Then she'd called the police.Now she was at his funeral. Now they were going to bury her baby. She felt the screams rising again from deep inside her, but they were buried somehow. They had her on so many tranquilizers she could barely walk, and the screams were still rising from deep down inside her. The pain wasn't gone. The pain. We still needed to speak to Maureen’s Mother however, perhaps tonight.From what Paddy had told me on the trip today, it appeared that we had been exceedingly fortunate to be near his shop when he needed help. He certainly appeared to be well informed on the history of organized crime in the Boston area.“Will you come drink with us tonight?” he asked as it grew dark, and his workers began returning.“I’ll have one with you when everyone is back, but I have reconnaissance to do tonight on Endicott Street,” I told him.“But how will you get there?” he asked.“I’ll just transfer to an alley that I took note of today and pay a visit to those at the New Acorn Social Club to see what I can learn. It may take several nights to learn all that I need to know. Tomorrow or the next day, I’ll need to visit one of the big box construction supply stores to obtain the supplies I’ll need here in Boston and where ever the trail leads to the Magic Haters,” I told him.“You can go all the way back there.
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