Bad Business

by Robert B. Parker

  "Sure.

  "Do you think you could beat him up?"

  "Sure."

  "If you could keep her from molesting you," Susan said, "Adele might be interesting to talk with."

  "If she knows anything."

  "She must know something worth hearing. And she doesn't like those men."

  "And might take pleasure in ratting them out?" I said.

  "Discreetly," Susan said. "By innuendo. In the guise of being feminine, or witty, or simply so cute and sexy."

  Susan put her head against my shoulder while we looked at the ocean.

  "I don't want to sound sexually incorrect," I said, "but do you think she slept her way up the corporate ladder?"

  "Adele?" Susan said. "Does a cat have an ass?"

  "Okay," I said. "It's a job that's got to be done."

  "And don't you dare enjoy it," Susan said.

  I t was getting dark. The beach had emptied. The wind was quiet. The water moved more gently. The blue distance had shortened and darkened as it closed down onto the horizon.

  "Pretty much," I said. "I think we enjoy each other."

  "Yes," Susan said. "A lot."

  30

  Coop gave it one more try at breakfast. Susan and I were at a C table by the window, where I was eating corned beef hash with a poached egg, and Susan was nursing half a bagel. Carrying a cup of coffee, Bob strode across the room trailing a gentle hint of expensive cologne. He pulled over a chair from another table, turned it around and sat straddling it with his forearms resting on the back.

  "Hope I'm not interrupting," he said.

  "Not at all," I said. "We were just speaking aimlessly of our hopes and dreams."

  Coop smiled.

  "You are a kidder, aren't you?"

  "Makes me fun to be around," I said.

  "Sure does," Coop said. "Whadda you think, Susan."

  "Fun," she said.

  She broke off a corner of her bagel and dabbed on a teardrop sized smudge of cream cheese. Coop watched her for a moment. Then he looked back at me.

  "Well," Coop said to me, "on that very subject, I'd like to make you a little offer."

  "You'd like to employ me to look into Rowley's death," I said.

  Coop was startled. It was maybe the first actual feeling I'd seen him show.

  "Well," he said. "Yes. How did you know?"

  "Because I turned down your pipe surveillance offer in Tulsa.

  "Tulsa?"

  "Yeah. Tulsa in June is always tempting, but I couldn't leave Susan."

  Coop looked genuinely confused. "Who made you that offer?" he said. I grinned at him.

  "Gav," I said.

  "Oh, well, I try not to micromanage. Are you interested in my offer?" He grinned. "I'm the CEO, it supersedes Gav's offer."

  "Rank has its privileges," I said.

  "Damn straight," Coop said. "You interested?"

  "No," I said.

  "Could I ask why?"

  "I have a client," I said.

  "And our interests coincide. Wouldn't it be better for Marlene if we assumed the cost of investigating her husband's death? She's a widow. Her resources may not be limitless."

  "I don't know if your interests coincide," I said. "The only way I'll know that is by doing my work."

  "You might consider working for us both. We could certainly improve upon your fee."

  "Same answer," I said.

  "He's a stubborn one, Susan."

  "But fun to be around," Susan said.

  Coop studied me for a moment. The rest of the Kinergy revelers were drifting in for breakfast, most of them lining up for the vast buffet.

  "I'm a businessman," Coop said. "And if I can't close a deal one way, I come around at it from a different direction."

  I ate some hash.

  "How about coming aboard as a consultant?" I smiled.

  "Consultant Spenser," I said.

  "We could give you a pretty substantial consulting fee." "And I would advise Gavin on matters of security."

  "As needed," Bob said. He grinned.

  "No heavy lifting," he said. "You'd be free to pursue your own cases as well."

  "And Rowley's death?"

  "Anything you discovered you could share with us, help us provide maximum assistance to the police."

  "That's all?"

  "Sure," Coop said. I looked at Susan.

  "That's all," I said to her.

  "How nice," she said.

  Her bagel was nearly a third gone. She must have been ravenous.

  "Coop," I said. "Susan and I will be driving home after breakfast. Let us think about your offer."

  "Sure thing," Cooper said. "We'd like to have you aboard, Big Guy."

  "Thanks, Coop."

  Cooper got up and moved through the room. He stopped at several tables, putting his hand on shoulders, patting backs, laughing, bending over to confide.

  "Coop," Susan said.

  "He likes me," I said "He really, really likes me."

  "What's this about Tulsa?"

  "I'll tell you on the ride home," I said.

  "What do you think he wants?" Susan said.

  "He wants to know what I know."

  "So he's fearful you'll discover something unfortunate for him or his company."

  "Which means," I said, "that there is something unfortunate to discover."

  "And," Susan said, "he knows what it is. Do you suppose he'll try to buy off the cops too?"

  "He won't get anywhere with Healy," I said. "But Healy's a state employee. You run a company like Kinergy, you have state access."

  "There was a time," Susan said, "when you would have told Coop to go fuck himself."

  "True."

  "And were he to have objected, you would have offered to hit him."

  "Impetuous youth," I said.

  "Now you are pleasant, for you, and say you'll think about it."

  "Balanced maturity," I said. "I sometimes learn more by being pleasant."

  Susan smiled. "And," she said, "you can always offer to hit him later."

  "And might," I said.

  We finished breakfast and got our luggage. Susan carried my small overnight bag. I carried her big bag, and her smaller one, and the one that contained her makeup, and one she referred to as the big poofy one, and a large straw hat she had worn to the beach, which didn't fit into anything.

  "Why don't you get a bellman," Susan said.

  "Are you trying to compromise my manhood?" I said.

  "Oh, yeah, that," she said. "Now and then I forget." I loaded the back of the car.

  "Make sure to open up my big bag so it lies flat," Susan said. I did, and closed the trunk lid, and walked around to get in. As I opened the door on my side, I got a glimpse in the outside rearview mirror of a smallish man with long dark hair going into the hotel. I turned for a better look, but he was gone.

  "Just one minute," I said to Susan.

  I walked back across the parking lot and into the lobby. There was no smallish man with long black hair. I looked in the dining room. Nothing. I glanced at the bar off the lobby, but it was closed until noon. I gave it up and went back out and got in the car.

  "Looking for something?" she said.

  "Thought I saw someone I knew," I said.

  31

  Hawk and Pearl were sitting on Susan's front steps when we got back from Chatham. Hawk was drinking a bottle of beer and watching the Radcliffe girls go by. Pearl was sitting beside him with her tongue out. None of us could say for sure what she was looking at. Susan and I accepted, because we were responsible parents, about ten minutes of lapping and cavorting and jumping up as Pearl welcomed us home. Hawk watched silently.

  When Pearl finally settled down, Hawk said, "Got a friend owns a dog. She comes home, the dog wags its tail. She pats it on the head, and they both go 'bout their business."

  "Your point?" Susan said. Hawk grinned.

  "Jess a wry observation, missy."

  "Well, just keep it to yourself," Su
san said. "Did the Radcliffe students think my baby was adorable, when they went by?"

  "Most of them," Hawk said, "looking at me."

  That was probably true. There were few things less Cantabrigian than Hawk. We unloaded Susan's luggage and hauled it to her room.

  "Don't seem like you been gone this long," Hawk said.

  "Susan packs for all possibilities," I said.

  "Like dinner with Louis the Fourteenth."

  "Sure," I said. "Cocktails with God. You don't ever know."

  "Readiness be all," Hawk said.

  "Sho nuff," I said.

  Hawk and I drank beer on the front porch while Susan sorted and hung and smoothed and fluffed and folded and caressed and put away the stuff she had packed. Then she got a glass of Riesling and joined us on the front porch.

  I t wasn't really a porch made to sit on in the evening when it was hot and drink lemonade and listen to the ball game and listen to insects buzz gently outside the screen. It was more of a porch for standing on while you rang the bell. But Susan had put a couple of cute chairs out there, and there was a big railing and five stairs. Susan and I sat in the cute chairs. Hawk draped himself over the railing with his feet up. He always seemed relaxed and he always seemed comfortable.

  "Drinking beer on the front porch," I said. "I really should be in my undershirt."

  "The wife-beater kind," Susan said, "like a tank top."

  "The wife-beater kind?" Hawk said. "Undershirt bigotry?"

  "Shocking, isn't it?" Susan said.

  "There's a guy I keep seeing around," I said to Hawk. "Small guy, skinny, long black hair, pale skin, little round wire-rimmed glasses."

  "Bad guy?"

  "Maybe," I said.

  "You think he tailing you?"

  "Maybe."

  "Don't know him," Hawk said.

  "Is that who you went back in to look for," Susan said, "at the hotel?"

  "Just got a glimpse, might not even be the same guy," I said.

  "Way to find out," Hawk said.

  "He follows me, you follow him?" I said.

  "That be one way. Or he follows you and I follow him and when we establish that he is following you, we take him by the neck and shake him a little and say who dat?"

  "Who dat?" I said.

  "Who dat," Hawk said, "in dere saying . . ."

  Susan said, "Stop it."

  Hawk grinned at her.

  ". . . who dat out dere," he said. Susan put her fingers in her ears. "You don't like classic ethnic humor?" Hawk said.

  Susan kept her fingers in her ears and shut her eyes tight.

  "You Jews are always putting us down," Hawk said. Susan smiled and opened her eyes.

  "We try," Susan said. "God knows we try."

  "If I could interrupt for a moment," I said. "When he starts following me again, I'll let you know."

  "Usual rate?" Hawk said.

  "Absolutely," I said. "In fact I'm thinking about doubling it."

  "What is the usual rate?" Susan said.

  "Zip," Hawk said.

  Susan looked at Hawk and then at me. She drank some Riesling, and shook her head and spoke in a funny voice.

  "All the biracial pairs in all the world," she said, "and I end up with you guys."

  "That's the best Bogart impression I've ever heard by a woman," I said.

  A man wearing a Greek fisherman's hat walked by with a mongrel dog on a leash. Pearl dashed to the fence and barked ferociously. The mongrel growled and pulled on his leash. The man looked annoyed. He glanced up at us sitting on the porch.

  "Cute," Hawk said, "isn't she?"

  The man stared at Hawk for a moment and then nodded enthusiastically.

  "She's very cute," he said and moved his dog briskly along. Pearl glared after them, still barking, until they turned the corner. Then she padded back up onto the porch and sat and waited to be patted. Susan patted her.

  "And how many women have you heard do Bogie?" Susan said.

  I thought about it for a moment. "Zip," I said.

  Susan stood. Pearl moved over near Hawk, who patted her.

  "I think I'll get us more to drink," Susan said.

  We watched her go.

  "I love that woman," Hawk said.

  "Me too."

  32

  A dele McCallister's secretary was a sturdy gray-haired woman in a dark dress.

  "Ms. McCallister is expecting you," she said and ushered me into the big corner office.

  I t was all a corner office was supposed to be. Leather couch, entertainment console, a large map of the world marked with colorful tacks. There was a round conference table by the window, and an oriental rug on the floor, a wet bar, and at the back wall of the office, facing the door, and dominating all before it, a long table with elegant legs, which served as a desk. Behind it was Adele, wearing a low-necked pink suit with a short skirt. She had pearls around her neck.

  "Pearls go great with the suit," I said.

  She smiled.

  "I'm working on demure," she said. I smiled back.

  "You might have to work harder," I said.

  "Good," she said.

  There were original oils on the two inside walls, a couple of which were pretty good.

  "Coffee?" she said. "Water? A drink?"

  "Coffee."

  "Let's have it at the conference table," she said. "Get a better view of the Burger King."

  I don't know quite how she knew, but the sturdy secretary appeared almost as soon as we sat, bearing a silver service with a carafe of coffee and cream, sugar, and Equal.

  A dele said, "Thank you, Dotty. Hold my calls, please." Dotty set the tray down, smiled at her boss, and went out. Adele poured us each coffee, into white china mugs, and offered me cream in a silver pitcher. Her mug had "Legs" written on it. It went with the rest of the elegant service like pearls went with a hot pink suit.

  "So," Adele said. "Business or pleasure."

  "I'm still trying to find out what happened to Trent Rowley," I said. "I was hoping you'd help."

  "I'd love to help you," she said.

  The way she talked, everything sounded like it would lead to sex.

  "Tell me about Trent," I said.

  "Trent," she said and leaned back with her elbows resting on the arms of her chair. She drank some of her coffee, holding the cup in both hands. "Trent, Trent, Trent."

  I waited.

  "You were at Chatham," she said.

  "I was."

  "With an amazing-looking woman, I might add," Adele said.

  "I was."

  "You saw what they are, Trent was like the rest of them."

  "Which is?"

  "Hyperthyroid frat boys out to prove they've got the biggest dick," Adele said.

  "By?" I said.

  "By bringing in the most business, coming up with the best new scheme, getting the biggest bonus. Kinergy is a money machine if you're good, and willing to work eighteen-hour days, every day."

  "Every day?"

  "Saturdays, Sundays, and holidays," Adele said. "Some of the losers take Christmas morning off."

  "Where do you fit in?" I said.

  She grinned and drank some coffee.

  "Hyperthyroid sorority girl," she said. "Intent on proving I've got everything the boys have."

  "How's that going?" I said.

  "I'm doing fine," she said and made an inclusive gesture at the rest of her office.

  "What is it you do, exactly?"

  "I'm senior vice president for development," she said.

  "Yeah?

  "I fly around in the company jet and look for opportunities for us."

  "For Kinergy?"

  "Sure."

  "And that includes what?"

  "Mostly blowing the smoke and arranging the mirrors," she said.

  "Anything else?" I said. "Anything more, ah, specific." She smiled widely.

  "An occasional BJ," she said.

  "An indispensable negotiating tool," I said.

 
"Nice choice of words."

  I shrugged.

  "And what did Trent do?"

  "CFO," she said.

  "Was he good at it?"

  "In some ways he was a wizard. He truly understood the manipulation of money. He was a genius at accounting. He understood banking. He had a ... an almost genetic sense of how Wall Street works."

  "That sounds like a wizard in all ways," I said.

  "It does," she said. "But . . . it wasn't what he knew and didn't know. It was ... hell, it was that he didn't want it badly enough."

  "Want what?"

  "The whole enchilada," Adele said. "Money, power, country club, Porsche, Rolex, Montblanc pen."

  "What else is there?" I said.

  "It's the way we keep score," Adele said. "And Trent played that game as hard as he could. But there was always ... I don't know ... he always seemed to be looking for something that Kinergy doesn't have." She shrugged. "Purpose, peace, love, some philosophical something. I mean Trent could be as big a prick as anyone. And he was a real player ... but there was that something lacking."

  "Or vice versa," I said.

  "What? Oh, yes. Maybe not. Maybe it was a good thing. But not here. You want to be here, you can't be good ... and survive."

  "He didn't," I said.

  "Yeah. That's kind of sad. But I didn't mean it that way."

  "You good?" I said.

  "God, no. I'm talking to you because I can't think of any reason not to. But, no, I'd lie to you in a heartbeat. If it would get me something I wanted, I'd sleep with you."

  "Be a treat in itself," I said.

  She paused and looked at me as if she were considering a purchase.

  "Probably would be," she said. "But it would waste a fuck."

  "Because I can't do anything for you."

  "That's right."

  "And you want the whole enchilada?"

  "All of it," she said. "Everything the men want, and to get it I have to be better than the men and when I am, I get to rub their noses in it."

  "My God," I said. "A feminist."

  "Fuck that," she said. "I'm not doing anything for women. I'm doing it for me."

  "What can you tell me about Cooper?" I said.

  "Wants to be senator, as a way of positioning himself to run for president."

  "Hell of a pay cut," I said.

  "His focus is upward and out," she said. "Trent and Bernie Eisen ran the place."