"Yeah."
"She coming home?"
"I don't think so."
"What's he going to do about that?"
"Nothing he can do."
"He can go get her and drag her ass home."
"He doesn't know where she is. I wouldn't tell him."
Slade frowned at me for about thirty seconds. "You are a pisser," Slade said. "I'll give you that."
"Yeah."
"Shepard take that okay?"
"No, he fired me. Told me that he was going to sue me."
"So you're unemployed."
"I guess so."
"Just another tourist."
"Yep."
Slade did smile this time. A big smile that spread slowly across his face making deep furrows, one on each cheek. "Goddamn," he said and shook his head. "Goddamn."
I smiled back at him, warmly, got up and left. Back in my car, on the hot seats, with the top down, I thought something I've thought before. I don't know what to do, I thought. I started the car, turned on the radio and sat with the motor idling. I didn't even know where to go. Mrs. Shepard sure wasn't happy, and Mr. Shepard sure wasn't happy. That didn't make them unusual of course. I wasn't right at the moment all that goddamned happy myself. I supposed I ought to go home. Home's where you can go and they have to take you in. Who said that? I couldn't remember. Cynical bastard though. I put the car in gear and drove slowly down Main Street toward the motel. Course at my home there wasn't any they. There was just me. I'd take me in any time. I stopped for a light. A red-haired girl wearing powder blue flared denim slacks and a lime-colored halter top strolled by. The slacks were so tight I could see the brief line of her underpants slanting across her buttocks. She looked at the car in a friendly fashion. I could offer her a drink and a swim and dazzle her with my Australian crawl. But she looked like a college kid and she'd probably want me to do some dope and rap about the need for love and a new consciousness. The light turned green and I moved on. A middle-aged grump with nowhere to go. It was a little after one when I pulled into the parking lot at my motel. Time for lunch. With renewed vigor I strode into the lobby, turned left past the desk and headed down the corridor toward my room. A fast wash, and then on to lunch. Who'd have thought but moments ago that I was without purpose. When I opened the door to my room Susan Silverman was lying on the bed reading a book by Erik Erikson and looking like she should.
I said, "Jesus Christ, I'm glad to see you." With her finger in the book to keep her place she turned her head toward me and said, "Likewise, I'm sure" and grinned. Often she smiled, but sometimes she didn't smile, she grinned. This was a grin. I never knew for sure what the difference was but it had something to do with gleeful wickedness. Her smile was beautiful and good, but in her grin there was just a hint of evil. I dove on top of her on the bed, breaking the impact of my weight with my arms, and grabbed her and hugged her.
"Ow," she said. I eased up a little on the hug, and we kissed each other. When we stopped I said, "I am not going to ask how you got in here because I know that you can do anything you want to, and getting the management to aid and abet you in a B and E would be child's play for you."
"Child's play," she said. "How has it been with you, blue eyes?"
We lay on our backs on the bed beside each other while I told her. When I finished telling her I suggested an afternoon of sensual delight, starting now. But she suggested that it start after lunch and after a brief scuffle I agreed.
"Suze," I said in the dining room starting my first stein of Harp while she sipped a Margarita, "you seemed uncommonly amused by the part where Jane tried to caponize me."
She laughed. "I think your hips are beginning to widen out," she said. "Are you still shaving?"
"Naw," I said, "it did no damage. If it had, all the waitresses here would be wearing black armbands and the flag would fly half-mast at Radcliffe."
"Well, we'll see, later, when there's nothing better to do."
"There's never anything better to do," I said. She yawned elaborately.
The waitress came and took our order. When she'd departed Susan said, "What are you going to do?"
"Jesus, I don't know."
"Want me to hang around with you while you do it?"
"Very much," I said. "I think I'm in over my head with Pam, Rose and Jane."
"Good, I brought my suitcase on the chance you might want me to stay."
"Yeah, and I noted you unpacked it and hung up your clothes. Confidence."
"Oh, you noticed. I keep forgetting you are a detective."
"Spenser's the name, clues are my game," I said. The waitress brought me a half-dozen oysters and Susan six soused shrimp. Susan looked at the oysters.
"Trying to make a comeback?"
"No," I said, "planning ahead."
We ate our seafood.
"What makes you say you're in over your head?" Susan asked.
"I don't feel easy. It's an element I'm not comfortable in. I'm good with my hands, and I'm persevering, but... Pam Shepard asked me if I had children and I said no. And she said I probably couldn't understand, and she asked if I were married and I said no and she said then for sure I couldn't understand." I shrugged.
"I've never had children either," Susan said. "And marriage wasn't the best thing that ever happened to me. Nor the most permanent. I don't know. There's all the cliches about you don't have to be able to cook a souffle to know when one's bad. But... at school, I know, parents come in sometimes for counseling with the kids and they say, but you don't know. You don't have children... there's probably something to it. Say there is. So what? You've been involved in a lot of things that you haven't experienced firsthand, as I recall. Why is this one different?"
"I don't know that it is," I said.
"I think it is. I've never heard you talk about things like this before. On a scale of ten you normally test out about fifteen in confidence."
"Yeah, I think it is too."
"Of course, as you explain it, the case is no longer your business because the case no longer exists."
"There's that," I said.
"Then why worry about it. If it's not your element, anyway, why not settle for that. We'll eat and swim and walk on the beach for a few days and go home."
The waitress came with steak for each of us, and salad, and rolls and another beer for me. We ate in silence for maybe two minutes.
"I can't think of anything else to do," I said.
"Try to control your enthusiasm," Susan said.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just bothering me. I've been with two people whose lives are screwed up to hell and I can't seem to get them out of it at all."
"Of course you can't," she said. "You also can't do a great deal about famine, war, pestilence and death."
"A great backfield," I said.
"You also can't be everyone's father. It is paternalistic of you to assume that Pam Shepard with the support of several other women cannot work out her own future without you. She may in fact do very well. I have."
"Me paternalistic? Don't be absurd. Eat your steak and shut up or I'll spank you."
Chapter 12
After lunch we took coffee on the terrace by the pool, sitting at a little white table made of curlicued iron shaded by a blue and white umbrella. It was mostly kids in the pool, splashing and yelling while their mothers rubbed oil on their legs. Susan Silverman was sipping coffee from a cup she held with both hands and looking past me. I saw her eyes widen behind her lavender sunglasses and I turned and there was Hawk.
He said, "Spenser."
I said, "Hawk."
He said, "Mind if I join you?"
I said, "Have a seat. Susan, this is Hawk. Hawk, this is Susan Silverman."
Hawk smiled at her and she said, "Hello, Hawk."
Hawk pulled a chair around from the next table, and sat with us. Behind him was a big guy with a sunburned face and an Oriental dragon tattooed on the inside of his left forearm. As Hawk pulled his c
hair over he nodded at the next table and the tattooed man sat down at it. "That's Powell," Hawk said. Powell didn't say anything. He just sat with his arms folded and stared at us.
"Coffee?" I said to Hawk.
He nodded. "Make it iced coffee though." I gestured to the waitress, ordered Hawk his iced coffee.
"Hawk," I said, "you gotta overcome this impulse toward anonymity you've got. I mean why not start to dress so people will notice you instead of always fading into the background like you do."
"I'm just a retiring guy, Spenser, just my nature." He stressed the first syllable in retiring. "Don't see no reason to be a clotheshorse." Hawk was wearing white Puma track shoes with a black slash on them. White linen slacks, and a matching white linen vest with no shirt. Powell was more conservatively dressed in a maroon-and-yellow-striped tank top and maroon slacks.
The waitress brought Hawk his iced coffee. "You and Susan having a vacation down here?"
"Yep."
"Sure is nice, isn't it? Always like the Cape. Got atmosphere you don't usually find. You know? Hard to define it, but it's kind of leisure spirit. Don't you think, Spenser?"
"I'll tell you if you'll tell me."
"Susan," Hawk said, "this man is a straight-ahead man, you know? Just puts it right out front, hell of a quality, I'd say."
Susan smiled at him and nodded. He smiled back.
"Come on, Hawk, knock off the Goody Two-shoes shtick. You want to know what I'm doing with Shepard and I want to know what you're doing with Shepard."
"Actually, it's a little more than that, babe, or a little less, whichever way you look at it. It ain't that I so much care what you're doing with Shepard as it is I want you to stop doing it."
"Ah-ha," I said. "A threat. That explains why you brought Eric the Red along. You knew Susan was with me and you didn't want to be outnumbered."
Powell said from his table, "What did you call me?"
Hawk smiled. "Still got that agile mind, Spenser."
Powell said again, "What did you call me?"
"It is hard, Powell," I said to him, "to look tough when your nose is peeling. Why not try some Sun Ban, excellent, greaseless, filters out the harmful ultraviolet rays."
Powell stood up. "Don't smart-mouth me, man. You wising off at me?"
"That a picture of your mom you got tattooed on your left arm?" I said.
He looked down at the dragon tattoo on his forearm for a minute and then back at me. His face got redder and he said, "You wise bastard. I'm going to straighten you out right now."
Hawk said, "Powell, I wouldn't if I was you."
"I don't have to take a lot of shit from a guy like this," Powell said.
"Don't swear in front of the lady," Hawk said. "You gotta take about whatever he gives you 'cause you can't handle him."
"He don't look so tough to me," Powell said. He was standing and people around the pool were beginning to look.
"That's cause you are stupid, Powell," Hawk said. "He is tough, he may be damn near as tough as me. But you want to try him, go ahead."
Powell reached down and grabbed me by the shirt front. Susan Silverman inhaled sharply.
Hawk said, "Don't kill him, Spenser, he runs errands for me."
Powell yanked me out of the chair. I went with the yank and hit him in the Adam's apple with my forearm. He said something like "ark" and let go of my shirt front and stepped back. I hit him with two left hooks, the second one with a lot of shoulder turned into it, and Powell fell over backward into the pool. Hawk was grinning as I turned toward him.
"The hayshakers are all the same, aren't they," he said. "Just don't seem to know the difference between amateurs and professionals." He shook his head. "That's a good lady you got there though." He nodded at Susan, who was on her feet holding a beer bottle she'd apparently picked up off another table.
Hawk got up and walked to the pool and dragged Powell out of it negligently, with one hand, as if the dead weight of a 200-pound man were no more than a flounder.
The silence around the pool was heavy. The kids were still hanging on to the edge of the pool, staring at us. Hawk said, "Come on, let's walk out to my car and talk." He let Powell slump to the ground by the table and strolled back in through the lobby. Susan and I went with him. As we passed the desk we saw the manager come out of his office and hurry toward the terrace.
I said, "Why don't you go down to the room, Suze. I'll be along in a minute. Hawk just wants me to give him some pointers on poolside fighting." The tip of her tongue was stuck out through her closed mouth and she was obviously biting on it. "Don't bite your tongue," I said. "Save some for me." She shook her head.
"I'll stay with you," she said.
Hawk opened the door on the passenger's side of the Cadillac. "My pleasure," he said to Susan. If Hawk and I were going to fight he wouldn't pick a convertible for the place. I got in after Susan. Hawk went around and got in the driver's side. He pushed a button and the roof went up smoothly. He started the engine and turned on the air conditioning. A blue and white Barnstable Township police car pulled into the parking lot and two cops got out and walked into the motel.
Hawk said, "Let's ride around." I nodded and he put us in gear and slipped out of the parking lot.
"Where the hell did you get him?" I said to Hawk as we drove.
"Powell? Oh, man, I don't know. He's a local dude. People that hired me told me to work with him."
"They trying to set up an apprentice program?"
Hawk shrugged. "Beats me, baby, he got a long way to go though, don't he?"
"It bother you that the cops are going to ask him what he was doing fighting with a tourist, and who the tourist was and who was the black stud in the funny outfit?"
Hawk shook his head. "He won't say nothing. He dumb, but he ain't that dumb."
Between us on the front seat Susan Silverman said, "What are we doing?"
Hawk laughed. "A fair question, Susan. What in hell are we doing?"
"Let me see if I can guess," I said. "I guess that Harv Shepard owes money to a man, probably King Powers, and Hawk has been asked to collect it. Or maybe just oversee the disbursement of funds, whatever, and that things are going the way they should." I said to Susan, "Hawk does this stuff, quite well. And then surprise, I appear, and I'm working for Shepard. And Hawk and his employer, probably King Powers, wonder if Harv hired me to counteract Hawk. So Hawk has dropped by to inquire about my relationship with Harv Shepard, and to urge me to sever that relationship."
The Caddie went almost soundless along the Mid-Cape Highway, down Cape, toward Provincetown. I said, "How close, Hawk?"
He shrugged. "I have explained to the people that employ me about how you are. I don't expect to frighten you away, and I don't expect to bribe you, but my employer would like to compensate you for any loss if you were to withdraw from the case."
"Hawk," I said. "All this time I've known you I never could figure out why sometimes you talk like an account exec from Merrill Lynch and sometimes you talk like Br'er Bear."
"Ah is the product of a ghetto education." He pronounced both t's in ghetto. "Sometimes my heritage keep popping up."
"Lawdy me, yes," I said. "What part of the ghetto you living in now?"
Hawk grinned at Susan. "Beacon Hill," he said. He U-turned the Caddie over the center strip and headed back up Cape toward Hyannis. "Anyway, I told the people you weren't gonna do what they wanted, whatever I said, but they give me money to talk to you, so I'm talking. What your interest in Shepard?"
"He hired me to look for his wife."
"That all?"
"You find her?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"I won't say."
"Don't matter, Shepard'll tell me. If I need to know."
"No." I shook my head. "He doesn't know either."
"You won't tell him?"
"Nope."
"Why not, man, That's what you hired on for."
"She doesn't want to be found."
/> Hawk shook his head again. "You complicate your life, Spenser. You think about things too much."
"That's one of the things that makes me not you, Hawk."
"Maybe," Hawk said, "and maybe you a lot more like me than you want to say. 'Cept you ain't as good looking."
"Yeah, but I dress better."
Hawk snorted, "Shit. Excuse me, Susan. Anyway, my problem now is whether I believe you. It sounds right. Sounds just about your speed, Spenser. Course you ain't just fell off the sugar-beet truck going through town, and if you was lying it would sound good. You still work for Shepard?"
Robert B Parker - Spenser 04 - Promised Land Page 7