Sixkill s-40

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Sixkill s-40 Page 10

by Robert B. Parker


  Z was watching her.

  "Good ass," Z said.

  "Absolutely is," I said. "But before you get in too deep. It belongs to the girl of my dreams."

  "Her?"

  "Main squeeze," I said.

  "That's Susan?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Holy Christ!" Z said.

  "My sentiments exactly," I said.

  "Sorry," Z said.

  "I often have the same reaction," I said.

  We reached the end zone and turned and sprinted the hundred.

  "That's really your girlfriend," Z said as we turned and started to walk back.

  "Amazing, isn't it?"

  "Did I hear she's a shrink?"

  "Yep."

  "From Harvard?"

  "She has a Ph.D. from Harvard," I said.

  "And she's with you?"

  "Every chance she gets," I said.

  "Why?" Z said.

  "Love makes strange bedfellows," I said.

  When she was through with the stadium stairs, Susan came down and joined us as we ran our last interval. She had no trouble keeping up. When we finished, we went to sit in the sun on the bottom row of stadium seats, and I introduced her to Z.

  She put out her hand. He shook it carefully.

  "How do you do, ma'am," Z said.

  "Susan," she said.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Susan looked at me.

  "Is he always this polite?" she said.

  "He's intimidated," I said.

  "Poor Injun boy," he said. "Off the reservation."

  "What kind of Indian are you?" Susan said.

  "Cree," Z said.

  "And where are Crees from?" Susan said.

  "You mean before Paleface steal our land."

  "Yes, that's what I meant," Susan said.

  "Northern plains," Z said.

  Susan looked at me.

  "Susan's geography is pretty well limited to Harvard Square," I said to Z.

  "Montana, Wyoming," Z said. "Saskatchewan, Alberta. Around there."

  Susan smiled and nodded just as if she knew where those places were. I knew, and she knew I knew, that she didn't know which direction north was.

  "Do you speak Cree?" Susan said.

  Z rattled off an answer in Cree.

  "Oh, good," Susan said. "I like that the language stays alive."

  "Mother could speak," Z said.

  "You were close to her?" Susan said.

  "No," Z said.

  "Either of your parents?" Susan said.

  "Drunks," Z said.

  "Would you prefer to be called a Native American?" Susan said.

  "No," Z said. "We're not natives, no more than you. Just come here sooner from someplace else."

  Susan nodded.

  "My date, here, has promised me breakfast. Care to join us?"

  "Breakfast?" Z said. "It's quarter of one."

  "I never eat before I work out," Susan said. "It's a great diner in Watertown. Close."

  "No, thank you, ma'am," Z said. "Ate breakfast already."

  He stood.

  "Nice meeting you," Z said.

  "And you," Susan said.

  Z turned and headed off across the stadium. We watched him go.

  "My goodness," Susan said.

  "Most I've ever heard him speak," I said. "Christ, he was even sort of humorous."

  "Not only did he talk," Susan said. "He sounded rather like you."

  "You think?"

  "I do," she said.

  "Who better?" I said.

  "No one, if your goal is to be a wiseass."

  I grinned at her.

  "What better?" I said.

  "He looks good," Susan said.

  "And," I said, "he admired your tush."

  "See, he's very nice."

  "Every straight male alive admires your tush," I said. "Not all of them are nice."

  "Well, it's a nice trait," Susan said. "Z seemed very ill at ease."

  "Yes."

  "Is he that way with all women, or just Harvard-educated Jewesses?" Susan said.

  "I think it's because he isn't going to have sex with you," I said.

  "Why not?" Susan said.

  "Because you're with me," I said.

  "Oh, good," Susan said. "I'd hate to think he didn't want to."

  "The straight male populace of the known world wants to," I said.

  "Are you saying he only knows how to relate to women if they are prospective sex partners?"

  "Be my guess," I said.

  "And men?"

  "Prospective adversaries," I said.

  "And you know this how?"

  "Because I know stuff," I said.

  "You're so certain," Susan said. "How come you're so certain?"

  "In the barren days before I met you," I said, "I might have had a touch of that."

  "I'm shocked," Susan said. "Shocked, I tell you."

  "Let's go eat," I said.

  32

  I CALLED A COP I knew in L.A. named Samuelson.

  "Calling to see how it's going with a Boston guy as chief," I said.

  "Best cop I ever worked for," Samuelson said. "Whaddya want?"

  "I'm calling to inquire as to your well-being, and you're giving me 'Whaddya want'?"

  "Correct," Samuelson said.

  "Ever make captain?" I said.

  "Yes."

  "Makes me proud," I said, "just to know you."

  "Will you get to the favor you want me to do you," Samuelson said.

  "You think I'd only call because I needed a favor?" I said.

  "Correct."

  "That's cynical," I said.

  "You think being a cop for thirty years is going to make me idealistic?" Samuelson said.

  "Didn't you join the force in order to protect and serve?" I said.

  "Sanitation department wasn't hiring," Samuelson said. "Whaddya want?"

  "I'm interested in finding out whatever I can about a woman named Alice DeLauria," I said. "Jumbo Nelson's agent."

  "Has her own agency," Samuelson said. "Alice DeLauria Inc."

  "Ah, you know her."

  "Her old man is to the Anglo Mob in L.A. what your pal del Rio is to the Latino Mob."

  "His name DeLauria?"

  "No," Samuelson said. "His name is Nicky Fellscroft. She's married to one of his associates, guy named Stephano DeLauria."

  "He a hood?"

  "Stephano? You bet. He's Nicky's enforcer."

  "Any good?" I said.

  "World-class," Samuelson said.

  "And Alice DeLauria?"

  "Close family," Samuelson said.

  "She's in the business."

  "Sure is. We've never been able to get anything that'll stand in court."

  "One reason being that no one will testify against DeLauria's wife," I said.

  "Or Nicky's daughter," Samuelson said.

  "So how come she works as an actors' agent?"

  "How many actors you figure she represents," Samuelson said.

  "One?" I said.

  "Correct."

  "Jumbo?" I said.

  "Correct," Samuelson said.

  "She's his keeper," I said.

  "That's right."

  "You know why?" I said.

  "Mob money is invested in him."

  "I know," I said. "Can you prove it?"

  "No," Samuelson said.

  "I can't prove it, either," I said.

  "But you know about the Mob money," Samuelson said.

  "They invest in Jumbo's films," I said. "Wash dirty money, and make a profit, too."

  "And you know that how?"

  "You're not my only friend in Los Angeles," I said.

  "Lucky for you," Samuelson said. "You working the Jumbo Nelson thing in Boston."

  "I am," I said.

  "Who you working for?"

  "I'm sort of pro bono at the moment," I said.

  "He kill her?" Samuelson said.

  "I don't know," I said. "Homicide commander in Boston
has his doubts."

  "I'll pay attention," Samuelson said. "Anything passes me, might be useful, I'll let you know."

  "Back at you," I said.

  "Good," Samuelson said. "Be nice to arrest somebody."

  "Always is," I said.

  33

  THE BIG WINDOWSin Rita Fiore's top-floor corner office gave a grand overlook of everyone who worked at lower altitudes.

  "Above it all," I said.

  Rita smiled.

  "And yet still a woman of the people," she said.

  "I've heard that," I said.

  "For an okay time, call Rita?"

  "I read it somewhere," I said. "I want to talk with Jumbo Nelson alone."

  "Most people don't," Rita said.

  "I know," I said. "But I do. And I don't want to have to fight with his bodyguard, or outwit his agent, or work around his lawyer."

  "And you want me to help with that?" Rita said.

  "Yes," I said. "Do you think, despite your recent estrangement, that you could get Jumbo to come see you alone."

  Rita began to smile.

  "We both know how to get Jumbo here alone," she said.

  "Could you stand it?"

  "I believe I could," she said. "As long as I don't actually have to be alone with him."

  "That would be your choice," I said.

  "I'm friendly," Rita said. "But not desperate."

  "Jumbo would be a good working definition," I said, "of desperate."

  "Maybe hopeless," Rita said. "Can you fill me in?"

  "Seems fair," I said. "Since you're prepared to sacrifice your virginity for me."

  "A," Rita said, "I am not letting Jumbo Nelson within ten feet of my virginity, and B, I sacrificed it long ago, for two pina coladas and a half-hour of fun in the backseat of a Buick."

  "Girls gone wild," I said.

  "And the tradition lives on," Rita said. "Fill me in."

  I told her what I knew about Jumbo's Mob connections, about Silver and Ratoff, Alex and Augie, AABeau Film Partners, Alice DeLauria, Nicky Fellscroft, and Stephano DeLauria.

  "Wow," Rita said.

  "Yeah," I said.

  "You've been a busy beaver. . . ." Rita paused and smiled. "If I may use the term."

  "No one better qualified," I said.

  "You know a lot," she said. "About this whole business."

  "I do."

  "And how is it helping your case?"

  "Gives me more people to talk with," I said.

  "And what does it tell you about Jumbo?" Rita said. "Did he? Or didn't he?"

  "No idea," I said.

  "So you're going to try and get him alone and sandbag him with all you know and hope it shakes something loose," Rita said.

  "I am."

  "Mind if I sit in?"

  "No, maybe you can help," I said.

  "Maybe," Rita said, and leaned forward and spoke into her intercom.

  "Margie," she said. "Get me Jumbo Nelson on the phone, please."

  Then she sat back and smiled.

  "You expect to get him just like that?" I said.

  "Watch," Rita said.

  In about five minutes, Margie's voice over the intercom said, "Mr. Nelson on line one."

  "Thanks, Margie," Rita said, and picked up.

  "Jumbo," she said. "Thank you so much for taking my call."

  She sounded like one of those women in an erectile dysfunction commercial.

  "No, no, you're very sweet. . . . Listen, you know, you and I got off to a terrible start, but dammit, I don't know why we can't be friends. . . ."

  She giggled.

  "Well, actually, yes, that is the kind of friendship I mean. . . . No, me either. . . . But you are one of the biggest stars in Hollywood. . . ."

  She giggled again.

  "Define big any way you want to," she said. "Really? . . . What I was thinking was maybe we could spend an afternoon together that I'd remember all my life, you know? My afternoon with Jumbo Nelson . . . right here in my office . . . We have all that's required, a large couch, a private bar, a private bath, a lock on the door. . . . No, I'm serious. How many chances are there to make love with a movie star. . . . Yes, a lot of people tell me that . . . Oh, wonderful," she said. "How soon . . . Oh, perfect. Time for me to take a shower and shake us some martinis . . . Yes . . . Come right to my office. My secretary will be expecting you. . . . Not to worry, she knows the score. . . . Wonderful, I can't wait . . . You, too."

  She hung up and looked at me.

  "Being a hot broad has its advantages," I said.

  She spread her hands and gestured at the big office.

  "How do you think I got here," she said.

  "By being the best criminal litigator in the Commonwealth," I said.

  "And beyond," Rita said, "but a tight skirt don't hoit."

  "It certainly don't," I said.

  "And it doesn't do any harm, either," Rita said, "if people think I might discard it easily."

  "More easily maybe than you actually do," I said.

  Rita smiled.

  "I'm pretty easy," she said.

  "We all use what we've got," I said.

  "Like you don't? You know what you look like. You know perfectly well that half the women in the city would disrobe in a heartbeat if you simply glanced at them."

  "Now you tell me," I said.

  "I'll sit in on this if I may," Rita said.

  "Glad to have you," I said.

  "How you want to play the opening moments?" Rita said.

  "Margie will let him in," I said. "You'll be sitting on the edge of your desk with your legs crossed."

  "You like that," Rita said.

  "I do," I said. "So will Jumbo. I'll be behind the open door, and when Margie closes it behind him, I'll step out and lean on it."

  "And then?" Rita said.

  "We'll improvise," I said.

  34

  IT WAS TWO O'CLOCK in the afternoon, and through Rita's big windows the harbor looked a lot bluer than I knew it to be, when Margie ushered Jumbo into the room and closed the door behind him. Jumbo had a box of candy. Probably kept a store of candy for occasions like this. He started into the room. Margie closed the door, and I stepped behind him and stood with my back against it. He looked at me.

  "What the fuck?" he said.

  "Ah, yes," I said. "The ultimate question."

  Jumbo looked at Rita.

  "What's he doing here?" Jumbo said.

  "We want to talk," Rita said.

  "You fucking got me down here to talk?" Jumbo said.

  "I did," Rita said.

  "You lying bitch," Jumbo said.

  "Exactly," she said. "Sit down."

  Jumbo looked at the door and me standing in front of it. He and I both knew he couldn't get past me.

  "You fucking people are digging yourself a fucking hole you'll never get out of," he said.

  "I'll agree," Rita said, "that there's a hole being dug."

  "I'm telling you right now, you got no idea the trouble you're in," Jumbo said.

  Rita nodded.

  "Sit down," she said.

  Her voice was imperative. No curing erectile dysfunction now. Maybe causing some. Jumbo sat. He held the box of candy in his lap. Rita stood and walked around her desk and sat.

  "I'm not trying to put you in jail," I said. "I'm just trying to find out what happened to Dawn Lopata."

  "You can talk to my fucking lawyer about that," Jumbo said.

  "You know Zebulon Sixkill is working for me now," I said.

  It wasn't quite true. Henry had given him a job at the Harbor Health Club, handing out towels and bottles of water and checking people in. A condition of his employment being that he wear a tight white T-shirt. So I lied. It was nothing compared to the whopper Rita had recently told.

  "I don't care where he is or what he's doing," Jumbo said. "He's a freaking loser."

  I nodded.

  "I'm gonna give you a list of names," I said. "Whenever you hear a name you know
, tell me."

  "What, are we playing some fucking parlor game."

  "Elliot Silver," I said.

  Jumbo stared at me.

  "Carson Ratoff," I said.

  "Whatever game you're playing, pal," Jumbo said, "I'm not fucking playing."

  "Alex and Augie," I said.

  Jumbo clamped his mouth shut.

  "AABeau Film Partners," I said.

  Jumbo opened the box of candy in his lap and ate a chocolate.

  "Alice DeLauria," I said. "Your agent."

  Jumbo ate another chocolate.

  "Nicky Fellscroft," I said. "Your agent's father."

  Jumbo seemed absorbed with his candy.

  "Stephano DeLauria," I said. "Your agent's husband."

  Jumbo ate some more candy.

  "You know any of those people?" I said.

  "No."

  "Now, Jumbo," I said. "Don't be an idiot. One of them is your agent. You know Alice DeLauria?"

  "Yeah, sure," Jumbo said. "But I don't know none of those other fuckers."

  "You have any idea what any of them do?"

  Jumbo's face attempted what might have been a sly look.

  "Alice DeLauria is an agent," he said.

  I said, "Now we're cooking, Jumbo. How about her father?"

  Jumbo shook his head and chewed on a caramel.

  "What's Z doing for you?" Jumbo said.

  "Z?" I said.

  "You said he's working for you," Jumbo said. "He been telling you shit?"

  Jumbo had gone through the top layer of chocolates in the box. He took the crinkly little sheet of divider paper out and dropped it on the floor.

  "We talk," I said.

  Jumbo ate a candy.

  "Well, he's fulla shit," Jumbo said.

  "Lot of that going around," I said.

  "Well, it ain't coming from me. I don't know nothing 'bout any of those people, except Alice."

  I nodded.

  "So how come Silver and Ratoff came to my office and spoke on your behalf."

  "I don't know," Jumbo said. "What'd they say."

  "They told me, sort of, to buzz off," I said.

  "Maybe you should listen to them," Jumbo said.

  He was unconsciously feeling the chocolates, apparently counting how many were left.

  "That hole you mentioned that Ms. Fiore and I might end up in?" I said.

  "Yeah?"

  He ate a candy. Probably caramel, because it took some chewing.

  "Who's going to dig it?" I said.

  "You're digging your own hole," Jumbo said.

  "And who will push us into it?" I said. "And why?"

  Jumbo shook his head.

  "You'll find out," he said.

 

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