“May I ask who would want to buy an old church?” I said. “Except another religious group.”
“Holy Innocents was the last piece of a block someone needed for some kind of major redevelopment,” he said. “I guess they thought no one would notice the razing of a hundred-year-old historic structure. Or at least didn’t care.”
“Do you recall the buyer?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Those decisions are made by men in pointy red hats.”
“Perhaps you might find out for me?”
He studied my face, seeming to take me more seriously now that he knew I’d been raised Catholic. “That should be fairly easy. If you don’t mind waiting.”
I sat there in the hard pew for a half-hour before Conway returned with a name of a development company and a phone number. I thanked him. “I also appreciate you not asking how long it’s been since my last confession.”
“That long?”
I smiled. “Father, I don’t believe you’d even been born.”
12
Herbie Wu agreed to meet me outside his real estate office near Copley Square. I waited on a park bench next to the turtle statues, well within the shadow of the Trinity Church. I spotted Wu as he walked across the square. Not because he was Asian American, but because he looked like a multimillionaire real estate mogul named Herbie. He had on tan shorts, a light blue dress shirt, and a bright purple jacket. His sunglasses looked like they cost more than my SUV. The shorts-and-jacket combo was a bit disconcerting.
I rose, introduced myself, and shook hands. He was short, with small hands and slick hair. He had one of those soul-patch things under his lower lip.
“You know some important people, Mr. Spenser.”
“A few.”
“Fast Eddie Lee?”
“I knew you did a lot of business in Chinatown.”
“Everyone in Chinatown must do business with Mr. Lee.”
“Traditional?” I said.
“Not really,” he said. “Let’s say necessary.”
I nodded.
“And now you do a lot of business in the South End?” I said.
“Some,” he said. “But not as much as I’d like. The South End has grown too expensive even for me. Property is being held hostage. Too rich. Even with some investors from back in the old country.”
“Where’d you grow up, Mr. Wu?”
He grinned. “Quincy.”
I smiled. Pigeons fluttered away from two young boys chasing them. A man playing an accordion had set up nearby and played the latest pop hits. The man didn’t have much talent but seemed enthusiastic.
“Last year you were about to purchase Holy Innocents,” I said.
“Where did you hear that?” he said.
“From a holy man.”
“Did this holy man tell you they still wanted me to pay after the fire?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t pay for damaged property,” he said. “The contract was still being looked after by lawyers. We had kept it out of public record because The Globe would have had a field day with development on a historic property.”
“And what had you planned to do with a hundred-year-old church, Mr. Wu?” I said.
He rubbed the insignificant tuft of hair under his chin. “Hmm,” he said. “May I ask why you want to know? I don’t often air business in public with strangers.”
“Especially with strangers introduced by crooks?”
“Are you saying Fast Eddie Lee is not a legitimate businessman in Boston?” Wu said. He smiled. “I’m shocked.”
“Heavens, no.”
Herbie rested his elbows on his bare legs. I noticed he wasn’t wearing socks with his suede loafers. I didn’t pass judgment. I’m a no-socks man myself.
“Condos,” he said.
“You were going to turn an old church into a condo?”
“Well,” he said. “You couldn’t tear it down. It was going to be part of a much larger development. I had plans for an entire stretch of what we developers call mixed-use. I don’t know if you’ve seen the church, but it’s not in the hippest section of the South End.”
“And now?”
“I walked away,” he said. “I’ve gone on to other projects. In business you have to weigh your costs and benefits.”
“Too high a cost?”
“Way too high.”
“That had nothing to do with rebuilding after the fire?”
He shook his head. “To be honest, the fire would have helped me out,” Wu said. “Less red tape and meetings with the Planning Commission. Can you imagine how much flack I’d get from preservationists? We’d already been working on a plan to retain as much of the edifice as possible while working around it.”
“So why get out?” I said.
Across from the public library, a large bandstand was being erected. A group of tourists on bicycles cut through the park, all smartly wearing helmets. The guide stopped and pointed out some of the important sites around them. I thought about waving but decided to keep a low profile.
Herbie Wu shook his head. “It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Spenser,” he said.
I didn’t move. “Just what did Mr. Lee tell you about me?”
“He said you’ve been a pain in his ass.”