Small Vices

by Robert B. Parker

"You think they're going to?"

  "Been a cop thirty-four years," Jackson said.

  "Yeah."

  We were quiet. It was the second Monday after Labor Day, and the kids who went were back in school. It had been a dry summer, but it was promising to be a rainy fall. It had been ominous for five straight days and each day seemed heavier with rain than the last one. The TV meteorologists were almost climactic.

  "Just don't get romantic on this one," Jackson said. "Ellis is a bad guy. Maybe he didn't have much choice about that, but it don't mean he ain't bad. You get him loose, you may be doing him a favor. You ain't helping anyone else. And you probably ain't helping him. You get him out, he gonna go back."

  I nodded, looking at the still-green leaves stirring apprehensively in the overcast.

  "You think you can eliminate crime?" I said. Jackson snorted.

  "So what do you do?" I said.

  "Do what I can," Jackson said in his deep slow voice. "nere's nobody perpetrating a crime on this corner, right now. That's 'cause I'm here. Somebody's perpetrating something someplace else, maybe, but right now this corner is okay… It's not much. But it's all there is."

  "Yeah."

  Jackson looked at me for a while. Then he nodded slowly.

  "Okay," he said. "You too. Okay."

  We were quiet again. The street was almost empty now as if everybody were inside somewhere, waiting for the storm.

  "Just don't expect too much from Ellis Alves," Jackson said.

  "I expect nothing," I said.

  "Be about what you'll get," Jackson said.

  Chapter 4

  SUSAN AND I were sitting together on the couch in my place in front of an applewood fire. She had come straight from work without changing, so she was in a dress and heels. The dress was black and simple and set off with some pearls. Her black hair was shiny and smelled like rain. I had my arm around her, which I was able to get away with, because Pearl the Wonder Dog was asleep on her back, in the armchair next to the fireplace, with her feet sticking up in the air.

  "I always felt that Rita Fiore had designs on you," Susan said.

  "Me too," I said. "I've always liked that about her."

  "I suspect, however, that you are not the only one."

  "Boy," I said. "You spoil everything."

  "You think I'm wrong? Me, a shrink? And a female shrink at that?"

  "No," I said, "I think you're right. That's what spoils it."

  "How many times she been married?"

  "Twice, she told me."

  "Any kids?"

  "Not that I know of."

  The fire, being expertly built, settled in on itself as the logs burned. Pearl twitched a little in her sleep and made a snuffing sound.

  "What do you suppose she's dreaming about?" Susan said.

  "Everybody always says chasing rabbits," I said. "But how do they know. She might be dreaming about sex."

  "The baby?"

  "Maybe," I said.

  "I hope not," Susan said. "Are you going to try and get this Ellis person out of jail?"

  "I'm going to try and find out the truth," I said.

  Susan bumped her head on my chest a couple of times, which seemed to mean approval.

  "That's almost always the best thing to know," she said.

  "We both have to believe that," I said. "Don't we."

  "It's more than wishful thinking," Susan said. "There's a lot of ostensive evidence to support the opinion. Happiness is not the art of being well deceived."

  "So much for Alexander Pope," I said.

  "So much," Susan said. "You have any champagne?"

  "Sure," I said.

  "Well, let's drink some."

  I got up quietly so Pearl wouldn't wake up and went and got a bottle of Krug and an ice bucket and two glasses. But to get the champagne and the ice for the bucket I had to open the refrigerator door. And Pearl can hear a refrigerator door open anywhere in the northern hemisphere. By the time I got the ice in the bucket, she was beside me, looking in at the open door. I gave her a small piece of the roast chicken we hadn't finished and closed the door and went back to the couch. Susan had her feet stretched out on the coffee table, and when I put the ice bucket down, Pearl jumped up beside her where I had been and went into an unyielding snuggle. I poured us two glasses, put the champagne in the bucket to chill, gave one glass to Susan, and sat down beside Pearl, who was now where she wanted to be, between me and Susan. But she wasn't big enough. I could still reach past her and put my arm around Susan. Which I did. Pearl looked at me. I did not stick my tongue out at her. It is important to win gracefully.

  "Have you ever thought of having a child?" Susan said.

  "Excuse me?"

  "A child. Haven't you ever wanted one?"

  "Well, Paul's sort of like my kid," I said. "Not to mention the princess dog."

  "I'd like to adopt a baby," Susan said.

  I drank my champagne and reached over and got the bottle and poured some more. I drank a little of that.

  "You and me?"

  "Yes. How long have we been together?"

  "We met just after school had opened, about this time of year as a matter of fact, in 1974," I said. "Of course there was a gap back there in 1984/85…"

  "And there won't be another one," Susan said. "But I would like a baby."

  "A baby," I said.

  "Yes."

  "And would we move in together and take turns looking after it?"

  "No. We could live as we do. I think we need to. The baby would live with me. You would be its father."

  "What kind of baby would we get?" I said.

  "I don't know. I thought we could talk about it."

  "Oh."

  "It's not that hard," Susan said. "There are only two choices."

  "Yeah."

  I finished my champagne and poured some more. Susan's glass was empty so I poured her some as well, which emptied the bottle. I got up and got another bottle and jammed it into the ice bucket to chill.

  "So what do you think?" Susan said.

  "I don't know. It's a little sudden," I said.

  "Yes, I know. I didn't want to broach the subject until I was sure myself."

  "A little one," I said, "like a month old?"

  "Yes, as young as possible. I'd like as much of the full experience as I can have."

  "How much do they weigh when they're that age?" I said.

  "Oh, twelve, fifteen pounds perhaps."

  "About the size of a small turkey," I said.

  "About," Susan said.

  I nodded. We were quiet. Susan sipped her champagne, staring into the fire. Pearl's head was in her lap. I patted Susan's shoulder a little.

  "I can't make this decision for you," she said finally. "But I don't want to do this alone."

  "Be difficult alone," I said.

  "More than that, it isn't fair to the child. A child benefits from having a father."

  "If he or she can," I said. "Probably better having one good parent than none."

  "I don't think I'll want to do this without you," she said.

  "You'll never have to do anything without me," I said.

  "I know," she said.

  And she leaned her head back against my arm and the three of us sat there and looked at the fire.

  Chapter 5

  A STATE COP from the Norfolk DA's office patted Hawk and me down and ushered us into the conference room on the thirty-ninth floor at Cone, Oakes and Baldwin. A couple of guys from the Bureau of Corrections brought Ellis Alves wearing leg irons and handcuffs into the room and sat him in a chair with a great view out the picture window of places he might never visit. They took off the handcuffs and left and it was just Hawk and me and Ellis.

  Ellis was tall and bony with high cheekbones and his hair cut short. There were prison gang tattoos on his forearms. He sat straight up in the chair and stared straight at me.

  "My name's Spenser," I said.

  "So what you gonna do?" he said to me.
/>   "Find out if you did what you're in jail for."

  "Sure," Ellis said. He looked at Hawk. "Who this? Your butler?"

  "I don't know," I said. "He followed me in."

  Hawk looked thoughtfully at Ellis.

  "We know you bad, Ellis," Hawk said. "Don't have to keep showing us."

  "You ever been inside, bro?"

  "Been almost everywhere, Ellis."

  "You be inside, bro, you know there's black and there's white and you got to choose."

  "Damn," Hawk said. "I been trying to pass."

  "What's your name, bro? Your name Tom, maybe?"

  "My name's Hawk."

  Ellis was too full of jailhouse self-control to look startled. But he was silent for a moment staring at Hawk. Then he nodded slightly and looked back at me.

  "So what you want from me, Spenser?"

  "Tell me your story," I said.

  "I got no story, I'm just another nigger framed by the man."

  "Sure," I said. "How'd it happen?"

  "How you think?"

  "I figure they kidnapped you from church," I said.

  "Naw. They come busting in, about eight of them, while I was still in bed. Ten o'clock in the morning. I had a bad hangover. State cops, I think. I never did know for sure. And they haul my ass out to Pemberton. And stick me in a cell in the back by myself. You know, man, my whole life I never been in Pemberton? 'Cept for doing time, I ain't been five miles from Seaver Street."

  "You didn't kill this girl."

  "No. I tole them that and every time I tole them that the one cop doing all the investigating, State cop, I think, big tall guy, blond hair, real pink cheeks, he talk a lot of trash, 'bout how they know how to handle a buck nigger goes around raping their girls."

  Ellis paused a moment thinking about it and shrugged. "After a while couple of people I never heard of pick me out of a lineup," he said. "And then they gimme some preppy bitch probably never been laid, to be my lawyer, and you know she walks me right into the joint."

  "You got a theory?" I said.

  "Sure, same old honky shit. Something goes down, find a nigger and clear the case."

  "How'd they pick you?"

  "They want to get me off the street anyway."

  "Who they?" Hawk said.

  "You ought to know that, bro."

  "Yeah, but they a lot of white folks, Ellis. Which one want to get you off the streets?"

  "What's the difference?" Ellis said. "They ain't going to help you get me out."

  "We're not looking for help," I said. "We're looking for information."

  "Well, I already give you all I got," Ellis said.

  I looked at Hawk. Hawk shrugged.

  "He got no reason to hold back," Hawk said.

  I nodded, and looked at Alves.

  "You got anything else to say?"

  "The cop doing all the talking, out in Pemberton, cop name of Olson? Maybe he know something."

  "We'll talk with him," I said.

  Ellis looked at Hawk again.

  "I heard about you," Ellis said.

  "Un huh."

  "You willing to work with him?"

  Ellis nodded toward me.

  "Un huh."

  "You trust him?"

  "Un huh."

  Ellis, still sitting rigidly erect in the chair, looked at me like I was a specimen. He shook his head.

  "You ain't got no prayer. They gonna land on you like a truck-load of sludge. You gonna get buried. Like me."

  "Probably not," I said.

  "They want it buried-they gonna bury it. Even if you white, you helping a nigger, you ain't white no more."

  I didn't see anywhere to go with that so I let it pass.

  "You got no idea how they happened to pick you to take the fall?" I said.

  "None."

  "Okay," I said.

  I got up and went to the door. I opened it and nodded at one of the guards. They came in, put the cuffs back on Alves, patted him down, and led him. out. He stood absolutely straight as they did this, and when they took him out he didn't look back.

  "You in for life," Hawk said after Alves was gone, "hope will kill you. You going to survive, you got to keep your mind steady."

  "I know."

  "Ain't much else in there but hate and power."

  "Better than nothing," I said.

  Chapter 6

  THE CAMPUS OF Pemberton College was like Collegeland at a theme park: stone buildings on hills, winding footpaths, greensward, brick, and a bunch of trees arranged so artfully that they seemed almost accidental. There even was an occasional portico and at least one arched passageway that I drove through. I saw a number of young women, many in fine physical condition. Most of them appeared dressed to work out, or go camping. I was wearing a tee-shirt and jeans. I had my jacket off. As I drove I tried putting one arm out the window and flexing. Nobody made any attempt to flag me down and seduce me, and it was kind of cold, and it made my shoulder stiff, so I pulled my arm in and rolled up the window.

  A discreet road sign said "Campus Police." I turned off between some bushes and went in to a small parking lot behind the maintenance building. The cops were in a wing of the building, with no sign outside, hidden away like an embarrassing relative.

  "My name is Spenser," I told the young cop on the desk. "I'm looking into a murder you had here about a year and a half back."

  "May I see some ID?" he said. His name tag said Brendan Cooney.

  I showed him some. He studied it closely and slowly before he gave it back.

  "Whaddya need?" he said.

  "I'd like to talk to the officers involved in the case," I said.

  The young cop nodded. "Have a seat," he said.

  I sat in a straight chair near the door and read the campus parking regulations while he went into an office for a while and then came back.

  "Chief will see you," he said and opened the lift top gate in the counter, and I walked through and into the chief's office.

  "Sit down," the chief said. "I'm Fred Livingston."

  He was a blond guy with longish hair combed back and parted on the left. His upper teeth were sort of prominent and he looked to be maybe forty-five.

  "I'm working for Cone, Oakes and Baldwin," I said. "Law firm. They want to re-examine the murder thing you had out here about a year and a half ago."

  Livingston nodded. "Melissa Henderson," he said.

  "Who handled the thing?"

  "For us? I did. But there wasn't much to handle. This isn't a big city police force. Soon as we found her we called the town cops, and they brought the State cops with them."

  "You see the crime scene?" I said.

  "Sure. One of our guys found her, Danny Ferris. Poor bastard. He called me, and I told him not to touch anything and I went right over."

  "Can you show it to me?"

  "Certainly," Livingston said. He stood, picked up a walkie-talkie from the recharge rack, put on his hat, and walked out with me.

  "She was behind some bushes down from one of the dorms," he said in the car. "Probably the first corpse Danny ever saw."

  "How's your experience?" I said.

  Livingston shrugged.

  "I've seen a few. I was Police Chief in Agawam before I got this job. Motor vehicle mostly. Some of them are pretty ugly. Couple of gun-shot homicides. Domestic one, and one involving some gang kids from Springfield. Drugs probably, we never got the perpetrators."

  We went back under the archway between two buildings and bore to the left.

  "Park over here," Livingston said, and I did.

  We were at the foot of a hill with a long gradual grade, and a footpath that ascended the hill and curved among some bushes on the way. There's no special reason for it to curve, but landscape architects hate a straight line. Livingston led me along the path to the first clump of bushes.

  "She was here," he said.

  I looked back at the roadway where we'd parked.

  "How'd he see her?" I said.

&
nbsp; Livingston made a face.

  "Crows," he said. "Danny saw a bunch of crows flapping around and came up to see what was going on."

  There didn't seem to be anything to say about that.

  "She was on her back," Livingston said. "No clothes except for her bra pulled up above her tits. Her pantyhose were tied tight around her neck. You ever seen anybody been strangled."

  "Yeah."

  "Looked like she had cuts and bruises, too. 'Course, some of that might have been the crows."

  "ME could probably figure that out," I said.

  "Oh, yeah. He did. But I'm just telling you what we found."

  "Sure," I said. "Go ahead."

  "That's about it," Livingston said. "I called the town cops, and they came over, and some State cops, and we got out of the way."

  I stood and looked at the crime scene. It told me what most crime scenes told me. Nothing. Students walked past us with books, and book bags, and knapsacks, and Diet Cokes in paper cups with plastic tops and straws sticking out. There was nothing interesting about two middle-aged guys standing around beside a clump of bushes. Nothing reminded them that a woman's murdered body had lain here a year and a half ago. Most of them probably knew it had happened, some of them had probably known the woman. But there was nothing they could do for her now, and there were midterms to think about, and college guys, and maybe the Dartmouth winter carnival. They had places to go, so they went there. And there was no reason they shouldn't have.

  "Any clothes?" I said.

  "Just the bra."

  "Anybody ever find her clothes?"

  "Not so far as I know," Livingston said. "The nigger dragged her into his car. I guess he did her there and got rid of her clothes later."

  "And brought her here and dumped her."

  "That's what they tell me."

  I looked up at the dorm on the hill. "Odd place to dump somebody."

  "Can't see it from the road," Livingston said.

  "If it's on this side of these bushes," I said. "But then you can see it from the dorm."

  "He probably didn't realize that," Livingston said.

  "Not hard to notice," I said.

  "Probably dark. I don't think they ever established just when he dumped her."

  "That's probably it," I said. "Odd place for a black man from the city to dump a dead body, on a mostly white, all prestigious, suburban, women's college campus."