Cold Service s-32

by Robert B. Parker

"What the hell is in it for Tony," I said.

  "Money," Hawk said.

  13

  I HAD SHOWERED and shaved and brushed my teeth and put on my new black silk boxers. I was sitting on the couch in Susan's living room with my feet on a russet-colored leather hassock, reading the Sunday Globe while Pearl lay beside me with her feet in the air. Susan came into the living room, fresh from her bath, wearing a short blue kimono, and flashed me.

  "Am I to understand that it's time?" I said.

  "You are," she said.

  "Have you thought of any way to keep Pearl from yowling at the door when we go into the bedroom and close it?"

  "No."

  "But we're not going to leave the door open," I said.

  "Not unless you want a mйnage а trois," Susan said.

  "Well," I said. "I guess we can put up with it."

  "Maybe we can think of something to do," Susan said, "to keep our minds off it."

  I followed her down to her bedroom. We closed the door. In a moment we heard Pearl's footsteps. Then silence. Then a scratch at the door. We got into bed together. Pearl began to cry at the door. Susan rolled over and kissed me. I kissed her back. In a little while I was hardly aware of Pearl. After a time, when Susan had let go of me and my breathing had returned to normal, I got up and let Pearl in.

  She dashed into the room, jumped on the bed, turned around about twelve times, and plumped down hard against Susan, in the spot that until recently had been occupied by me. In the process, she scrambled the covers so that Susan had none and was lying naked on the bed. We'd been naked in each other's presence quite often. Yet Susan always had a quality of unease about her when she was naked, as if she'd been caught doing something embarrassing. I found the quality endearing. Pearl put her head on Susan's stomach and stared at me. I stared at her. Susan couldn't reach the covers without dislodging Pearl. She looked uneasy. Pearl didn't move.

  "I think I'll start breakfast," I said.

  "Fine," Susan said.

  I didn't move. Pearl didn't move. Susan looked uneasy. Then she smiled.

  "You're dying," she said, "aren't you? To say something about a dog and a pussy."

  "Not in Cambridge," I said, and began to put on my pants.

  Most Sundays, since we normally got a late start, we spent nearly half the daylight hours sitting in Susan's kitchen, having breakfast together. Susan set the table and I cooked. This morning I was cooking scrapple and eggs when Susan came into the kitchen, dressed in pale pink sweats with her hair in place and makeup perfectly on. Pearl remained at least for the moment on Susan's bed, apparently intent on fully reclaiming it. Susan poured herself some orange juice and sipped it as she set the table.

  "What is in scrapple?" she said.

  "Cornmeal and pig parts," I said.

  Susan put her orange juice down while she fluffed up some flowers in a vase on the table.

  "How enticing," Susan said.

  "It's worse than it sounds," I said.

  "I'm sure it will be lovely," Susan said. "Did you learn anything from Tony Marcus?"

  "We suspect that Tony is not being entirely forthright."

  "I'm shocked," Susan said.

  I told her about Tony. Susan listened to me with full-faced attention. She didn't interrupt. She never interrupted if the discussion was other than playful.

  "You're saying that Tony Marcus could drive these people out," she said when I finished, "if he chose to."

  "Yes," I said. "These are tough guys. But they're in Tony's neighborhood, surrounded by Tony's people, and he's got them outnumbered."

  "So he gets something out of having them there."

  "Money."

  "You're sure?"

  "No, but what else does Tony care about?"

  "Maybe nothing," Susan said. "But if it's true, he is unusual."

  "Might be worthwhile to keep the question open," I said.

  "I'm not advocating anything," Susan said. "But what difference does it make? Hawk knows the four men. Why not find them and kill them."

  "Hawk hasn't said."

  "And you have no theory?"

  "Well, maybe a small one," I said.

  I put the scrapple slices on a platter with the fried eggs and poured the coffee and sat down.

  "My guess is that Hawk intends to get the whole Ukrainian thing out of the black community."

  "Does he care that much about the community?"

  "No. Hawk has no community. I think his pride has taken a huge hit, and he has to do that to rectify his pride."

  "Defeat them totally," Susan said.

  I nodded.

  "So the four men are not enough," she said.

  "No."

  She nodded to herself quietly.

  "So he has to be sure who actually did what," she said. "And he has to know everything and everyone in the-what shall we call it-Ukrainian conspiracy?"

  "Yes."

  "And you are to help him."

  "I will help him."

  Susan concentrated on stirring Equal into her coffee.

  "The two of you are going to root out a whole ethnic criminal enterprise," she said.

  "I think that's the plan," I said.

  She stirred some more.

  "That sounds daunting."

  "It certainly does," I said.

  Susan was looking at the small, circular movement she had stirred up in her coffee cup. Then she looked up at me with the full force of herself. The force was almost physical.

  "On the other hand," she said, "if the Ukrainians knew the both of you as I do, they might find it a little daunting themselves."

  "I hope so," I said.

  14

  THE LAW FIRM of Duda and Husak was on the tenth floor of an office building on Boylston Street near Tremont. We parked in the garage at the Millennium Center and walked back. The lobby of the old building was narrow and trimmed with tarnished gilt. The gray marble floor was cracked and faded. The elevator was a mesh cage. It rose as though it had lost all interest years ago. It eased to a clumsy stop on the tenth floor. We walked down another narrow corridor with a worn marble floor. The marble was cracked and faded, and the once even marble threshold to Duda and Husak dipped in the center, rounded with use.

  A nasty-looking gray-haired woman with a hint of facial hair sat in an armless swivel chair behind an old conference table, reading the Boston Herald. The table held a phone and a computer and not much else. She looked at us with contempt. Probably most of the clients that sought the services of Duda and Husak were contemptible. Not us.

  "Can I help you?" she said.

  "We here to see either Duda or Husak," Hawk said. "Don't matter which."

  "Mr. Duda is not in," she said.

  There were two doors on the other side of the secretary. One of the doors was open, and we could see a man at the desk with his coat off, talking on the phone. The other door was closed.

  "Then we'll see Mr. Husak," Hawk said.

  We walked toward the open door.

  "Hey," she said.

  We ignored her and went on into the office. She followed us in, saying, "Hey, hey, hey."

  Husak said "Hold on" into the phone and looked at us.

  "What's going on?" he said.

  "We come to talk Ukrainians," Hawk said.

  Husak said, "Then maybe you should have made an appointment."

  Hawk sat in one of the client chairs. The office was small and no better looking than the rest of the building. It smelled of desperation accumulated over years. Behind Husak's desk was a dirty window that overlooked an air shaft.

  Hawk looked at the secretary.

  "You can go now, missy," he said.

  "I ain't no missy," she said, and looked at Husak.

  He nodded. And she went out. I closed the door behind her. Then I sat. He spoke into the phone again.

  "Got a coupla guys here I need to listen to," he said. "I'll buzz you back in a while."

  He hung up and tipped his chair back and put his fee
t up.

  "So whadya need in such a hurry?" he said.

  "Name of the people hired you to represent Bohdan Dziubakevych," Hawk said.

  "Who?"

  "Bohdan Dziubakevych," Hawk said.

  I was impressed.

  "Never heard of him," Husak said. "Who the hell are you?"

  "Me and my faithful honkie be members of the Ukrainian Royal Family."

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" Husak said. "I got shit to do. I got no time to be flapping my gums with you."

  Hawk stood and walked past Husak and opened the window behind him.

  "What are you doing?" Husak said. "It's fucking freezing out."

  "It is," Hawk said. "Isn't it."

  He took hold of Husak's hair and yanked him out of his chair and spun him around. He shifted his grip to the back of Husak's shirt and the crotch of Husak's pants and picked him up and stuck him headfirst halfway out the window. Husak began to scream-short screams, one coming right after another, quietly so as not to make Hawk lose his grip. His body was rigid, but he didn't dare struggle. In slow desperation, he reached carefully back, trying to find something to hold on to. Hawk shook him a little, as if he were dusty.

  "I don't like you," Hawk said to him in a reasonable voice. "I got no reason not to let you go unless you got something you can tell me that I might want to hear."

  Husak kept up the short soft screaming. Hawk brought him in and held him with Husak's head still out the window and his chest resting on the sill. Husak's short screams morphed into gasping.

  "Royal Ukrainians don't fuck around," Hawk said calmly. "Who hired you to represent Bohdan?"

  Husak kept gasping.

  "You go out again," Hawk said. "I let go."

  "Boots," Husak gasped.

  The pulse in his neck was beating visibly.

  "Boots who?" Hawk said.

  "Boots Podolak," Husak said.

  Hawk looked at me. I nodded. Hawk pulled Husak off the window and stood him up and sat him in his chair. He left the window open. Husak sat rigid in the chair. His face was pale. He was trembling.

  "He hire both of you?" Hawk said.

  "Not him personally, but a guy said he was from him," Husak said. His voice was hoarse, but the gasping had slowed. "Paid us in cash. Up front. Me and Duda both."

  "He want you to give them the best defense you could?" Hawk said.

  "He wanted to make sure Bohdan didn't roll over."

  Husak was limp. There was no snap left in him. He was eager to answer questions. The only danger in someone like that was that he'd figure out what you wanted to hear and tell you that. Tell you anything. Ten stories is a long way down. The unpleasant secretary knocked on the office door.

  "Mr. Husak? Is everything all right."

  "Tell her yes," Hawk said gently.

  Husak raised his voice.

  "Fine, Nancy, everything's fine."

  "You the one told Bohdan not to testify?" Hawk said.

  "No…"

  Hawk glanced at the window.

  "I did," Husak said. "We both did. Bohdan had family back in Ukraine. If he testified, they were all going to be killed."

  "You told him that."

  "Yes."

  "He believed you."

  "Yes," Husak said. "I showed him a finger with a wedding ring on it."

  "A finger?" I said.

  "Yes. It was his mother's. He recognized the ring."

  "Somebody cut off his mother's finger and sent it to you?"

  "Yes. It was neat. Wrapped in plastic, you know?"

  "And you showed it to Bohdan," I said.

  "Yeah."

  "He know they were going to kill him in prison?" Hawk said.

  "No, I don't think so."

  "You arrange that?"

  "No," Husak said. "Honest to God I didn't. I just, I just told Boots when I was going to visit Bohdan."

  "You represent the other four?" Hawk said.

  "Me and Duda," Husak said.

  "Tell me about them."

  "They never said a word to me," Husak said. "I don't know if they speak English. Whatever I said to them, the four of them would just look at me without any expression, like I was a…" he rolled his hands as he searched for the word. "Like I wasn't anything. Duda speaks a little Ukrainian. He did what talking there was."

  "What did he say?" Hawk asked.

  "He said they expected to be acquitted. He said we should do what Boots said for us to do."

  "That's all."

  "That's all, I swear on my mother, I don't know anything else. I promise."

  "Where's Duda," Hawk said.

  "He's in Miami. Took a week off. He'll be back next week."

  "When he get back," Hawk said, "I want to see him. Have him call my faithful ofay."

  I took a business card out and put it on Husak's desk.

  "He call me and we all have a civilized discussion. He don't call me, you go out the window, and so does he."

  "Yeah. He'll call. Honest to God he'll call, I know he will."

  Hawk went around the desk and closed the window. Husak's face pinched and unpinched.

  "Don't tell anyone it was me that talked," Husak said.

  Hawk nodded as though his mind was elsewhere.

  "You have no idea what these people are like. They aren't like other people. They find out I talked to you, they'll chop me up into pieces."

  "Who'll do the chopping," Hawk said.

  "Some Ukrainian," Husak said. "They're like from the fucking Stone Age, you know? I wish I never seen any of them."

  "I find out you're lying to me," Hawk said, "I'll make sure they know you was talking."

  "Everything I told you is the truth, so help me God."

  "The whole truth?" Hawk said.

  "So help me God," Husak said.

  Hawk looked at me.

  "Got a nice legal sound, don't it," Hawk said.

  15

  WE WALKED ALONG Boylston Street toward the new parking garage in Millennium Place. Traffic had become so desperate in Boston during the Big Dig that even the good hydrants were taken.

  "Would you have dropped him?" I said.

  "Don't have to decide now," Hawk said. "Who's Boots Podolak?"

  "The mayor of Marshport," I said.

  "Didn't know they had a mayor," Hawk said.

  "City of eighty thousand," I said.

  "Knew it was big enough," Hawk said. "Didn't know it was civilized."

  "Boots isn't much of a civilizing influence," I said. "Mayor is just the official title. Actually, he's the owner."

  "Eighty thousand," Hawk said.

  "Yep."

  "How many white?"

  "Boots and his management team," I said. "And a small immigrant Ukrainian population."

  "Rest of the plantation?"

  "African and Hispanic," I said.

  "How Boots pull that off?" Hawk said.

  "Marshport used to be mostly middle European. Boots is a holdover."

  "What kind of name is that?" Hawk said. "Marshport?"

  He flattened the a and dropped the r 's in parody of the local accent.

  I said, "Named after some prominent family, I think."

  "Why you suppose Boots hiring lawyers for Ukrainians?" Hawk said.

  "Podolak might be Ukrainian," I said.

  "Or Polish," Hawk said.

  "Didn't parts of Ukraine used to be Polish?" I said. "Or vice versa?"

  "You asking me?" Hawk said. "You the one sleeping with a Harvard grad."

  "And Cecile?" I said.

  "The med school," Hawk said. "They just know 'bout corpuscles and shit. Susan got a damn Ph.D."

  "You seen Cecile lately?" I said.

  "Yes," Hawk said.

  We were waiting now for the elevator down to our parking level. There were things you pressed Hawk on, and things you didn't. They didn't belong to categories. One had to sense subtleties of tone and posture to know which was which. Cecile was a no press.

  "Maybe
Boots is in on it with the Ukrainians," I said. "Moving in on Tony."

  "Expand the plantation?" Hawk said.

  I shrugged.

  "Think it be more like the other way around, wouldn't you," Hawk said.

  "Tony moving in on a black city?"

  "Un-huh."

  "You would think that," I said.

  " 'Cept far as we can tell it ain't so."

  "Far as we can tell," I said.

  "You know Boots?" Hawk said when we were in his car.

  "Yes."

  "He remember you?"

  "He would," I said.

  "Fondly?" Hawk said.

  "No," I said.

  "You know where we can find him?" Hawk said.

  "Yep."

  "Then let's go see him."

  "Okay," I said.

  Hawk pulled onto the last block of Boylston Street.

  "Think we can get there from here?"

  "Just barely," I said.

  16

  MARSHPORT CITY HALLwas one of those handsome, ornate civic buildings that people built in the nineteenth century out of brownstone and brick. It had the affluent, satisfied look of the upper middle class it was built for and was probably the best-looking thing in the city… except for me and Hawk, and we were only temporary. Inside was a lot of curving staircase, and dark wood, and heavy oil paintings of the city's ancestry, who for all I knew could have been the entire Marsh dynasty. The mayor's office was on the second floor, facing the big stairwell. We went in and announced to the several blue-haired staff ladies that we wanted to see the mayor. I gave my name. Hawk smiled warmly, which seemed to fluster the closest staff member a little.

  She got up and went into the mayor's office and came out shortly with Boots Podolak behind her.

  "Spenser," he said loudly, "you son of a bitch."

  "Nice to be remembered, Boots."

  "You still on the cops?"

  "Nope. Private now."

  "Then get the fuck out of my building," Podolak said.

  He looked at Hawk.

  "And take Sambo the fuck with you."

  "Sambo," Hawk said to me.

  The blue-haired staff pretended he hadn't said that. All of them appeared to have typing to do.

  "We've come to discuss Duda and Husak," I said. "Esquire."

  "I think they both Esquire," Hawk said.

  "You think I should have said Esquires?"