“So what statement is the Spare Change Killer making, do you suppose?”
“Oh.” Bob looked almost flustered and drank some more of his vodka and tonic. “We were just sort of talking in general, you know. I would have no way to know about a specific case.”
I had pushed it too hard.
“Yes,” I said, “the problem is for the cops, they are never talking in general.”
He was bobbing his head slightly in time with the music.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”
There was a trace of red along his cheekbones, and I thought he might be breathing a little more quickly. He drank again. And when he put the glass down he was tapping his fingertips on the edge of the table along with the head bob in time to the music.
“What a great tune they’re playing, Sunny,” he said. “What is it? I can’t remember the name.”
“‘How High the Moon,’” I said.
“Right,” he said, “right. ‘How High the Moon.’ A jazz classic.”
He swallowed the rest of his vodka and tonic. I still had half of mine left. He glanced at his watch.
“Holy moly,” he said. “Look at the damn time. Sunny, I gotta run. I got an evening appointment and I’m going to be late.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll get the check.”
“Oh, God bless,” Bob said. “I’ll get it next time.”
“Excellent,” I said. “That means there has to be a next time.”
Bob paused and stared at me.
“You mean that?”
“Sure,” I said. “We have fun.”
“Yes, we do,” he said.
He stood and smiled at me and said it again.
“Yes, we do.”
Then he looked for a moment as if he were going to pat my shoulder. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned and walked away.
“That,” I said, “is a weird dude.”
But I said it softly so that I was the only one who heard it.
37
Julie had a condo at the old Navy Yard in Charlestown. It had a modern kitchen and a big living room with a fireplace and a picture window. Ships sailed past within fifty feet. She and I were in the kitchen. I was opening a bottle of chardonnay, not my favorite. Julie was putting a big pan of lasagna in the oven.
“I got this at a place in the North End,” she said. “But I’m going to claim I made it. So don’t blow my cover.”
“Okay,” I said.
“I did make the salad,” she said.
“Good for you,” I said.
“Does the table look good?” Julie said.
“Sure does,” I said.
“Thanks for doing this, Sunny,” Julie said. “I know it’s not your favorite thing.”
“It’ll be interesting to meet your friend.”
“George,” she said.
“And his friend?”
“Jimmy,” Julie said. “Jimmy’s in town from Milwaukee. Unexpectedly. And George said he’d feel like a third wheel without a date. So I thought of you right away. It could be really fun. It’s been a long time since we used to double-date.”
“As long as Jimmy understands that I am not planning to elope with him,” I said.
I put the open bottle of chardonnay into an ice bucket and began to open a bottle of pinot noir.
“Is my bar okay?” Julie said.
She had bourbon and scotch, vodka and vermouth, tonic water, club soda, and a pitcher of still water. There were limes and lemons sliced in a glass dish.
“Sure,” I said.
“What if they like rum drinks, or gin, or, you know, Canadian Club?”
“This is not a cocktail lounge,” I said. “You’re not required to provide all possible drinks for all possible tastes.”
“I know, I know. I just want it all to be right.”
“There are not many drinkers,” I said, “who could not find something to choke down from what you’re offering.”
“I have beer in the refrigerator,” Julie said. “Men like beer.”
I nodded. The doorbell rang.
“Oh, God,” Julie said. “They’re here on time.”
She took her apron off and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair. On her way toward the front door she paused at the front hall mirror and touched her hair.
The doorbell rang again. Julie opened it. I stood a few feet behind her, feeling awkward.
“Hello,” she said.
The word came out slowly, as if it had several syllables. Her voice was an octave lower than it had been when she was talking with me.
“Hi, Jewel,” George said. “This is Jimmy Hartsfield.”
George looked at me.
“And you have got to be the legendary Sunny Randall.”
“I am,” I said, and put out my hand.
“Jimmy, Sunny,” George said.
I shook Jimmy’s hand. His clothes were good, beige linen slacks, a brown linen shirt. He was quite tall, slim, with a nice tan and a lot of thick, dark hair that showed the touch of an expensive barber.
“Really nice to meet you,” Jimmy said to me.
We followed Julie into the living room. George had an arm around her. There was a small flurry while Julie got everyone seated. Drinks were organized and distributed. Hors d’oeuvres were passed. A ship eased silently past the big window, headed for East Boston.
“Is this a great view?” George said.
He was an inch or two shorter than Jimmy, and looked as if he had lifted some not terribly heavy weights. His fat was round and smooth. He smelled faintly of good cologne. He was wearing rimless glasses, and there was a fashionable hint of gray at his temples. Jimmy didn’t glance at the window. He was looking at me.
“I like the view right here,” Jimmy said.
I smiled modestly.
Oh, God, I thought. He’s one of those.
Her initial round of hostessing done, Julie sat on the couch next to George. Jimmy and I sat opposite in matching armchairs. I tucked my purse down beside my right leg and sipped my wine. Julie was very close to George. As we talked and ate hors d’oeuvres, she rubbed his leg. There are few social events more tiresome than being on a blind date with another couple who are barely able to keep from having sex in front of you.
“So the client says to me, ‘Jimmy, you’re the only guy in the world I’d make this deal with….’”
Julie’s head was against George’s shoulder. Her hand moved on his leg.
“You’re the only guy in the world you’d let him make that deal with,” George said to Jimmy.
Jimmy stood.
“You got that right,” he said.
He went to the kitchen, got himself another bourbon and water, and poured me, without asking, another glass of white wine. He brought it back and set it on the coffee table in front of us, next to my other glass of wine, from which I had drunk maybe an ounce.
“Don’t mean to push you, Sunny,” Jimmy said. “But you know, things go better with booze.”
He laughed vigorously. So did George. George put his arm around Julie.
“They surely do,” George said. “Don’t they, Jewel?”
“Things go best with you,” Julie said.
“And in a little while,” George said, “they’re going to go even better.”
George winked at Jimmy and me. Julie giggled.
Jesus Christ!
I felt like I should sit with my knees pressed together. From where I was sitting, I could see the clock on Julie’s mantel. We’d been having cocktails for an hour. Julie was giggly drunk already. George and Jimmy weren’t there yet. But they were blustering louder.
Jimmy was telling a joke.
“…so the guy t
urns to his girlfriend and he says, ‘I wish I was doing that.’ And his girlfriend says, ‘Go ahead. It’s your cow.’”
Jimmy laughed loudly. George laughed loudly. Julie giggled. I smiled to be pleasant. I had first heard the joke when I was so young I didn’t understand it.
“Go ahead,” George said, and laughed again. “It’s your cow!”
More laughter. Outside the big window, one of the harbor cruise ships went by, brightly lit, with people on deck looking at the waterfront.
“You can see why we love this guy, Sunny.”
“How could you not,” I said.
We discussed sports, money, Jimmy’s business dealings, women both men had known, George’s business dealings. What a great time we were having. The lasagna had been heating in the oven now for more than two hours, and I held out very little hope for it. I appeared to be the only one hungry. I ate a few peanuts.
“Hey, Sunny,” Jimmy said. “Lemme get you another drink. You’re falling behind.”
I had just begun my second glass of wine.
“No, thank you,” I said.
Jimmy got up and went to the kitchen and poured some white wine in a highball glass and brought it back.
“Give you a chance to catch up,” Jimmy said.
I smiled. On the couch, Julie and George had begun to neck. I tried looking at something else. Jimmy watched them for a while.
“Hey, Sunny,” Jimmy said. “What’s the most useless thing on a woman?”
“An Irishman,” I said.
“An Irishman,” Jimmy said. “Right, George?”
Jimmy looked at me.
“George is Irish,” he said.
I nodded. George and Julie necked some more.
Jimmy gave me a wink.
“Boy,” he said. “I wish I was doing that.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “He’s your friend.”
Jimmy looked a little confused. George put his hand under Julie’s skirt. She pushed it away.
“George,” she said. “Not right here.”
George took his hand away and sat back.
“You know,” he said. “That could be fun.”
“What?” Julie said.
“All of us,” George said. “You know what I’m saying, Jimmy?”
“Sure,” Jimmy said. “A four-way. We haven’t done that in a while.”
“A what?” Julie said.
“The suggestion is,” I said, “that George have sex with you and Jimmy have sex with me, and then we switch and you have sex with Jimmy and I have sex with George.”
Julie sat up straight and stared at me.
“George and Jimmy?” she said.
“Whaddya think, ladies?” Jimmy said.
“It’s a very good deal,” I said to him, “for you and George. But what do Julie and I get out of it?”
“Whaddya mean?” Jimmy said.
“She’s insulting us,” George said.
“You want us to fuck both of you?” Julie said.
“Yeah,” George said. “Together in the same bed would be best.”
Julie edged back a little from George.
“Georgie,” she said. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can,” George said.
“Loosen up, ladies,” Jimmy said.
“George,” Julie said. “Stop it, please.”
“Come on,” George said. “Come on, stop with the coy shit.”
He stood and started to pull her to her feet.
“Enough,” I said.
He turned and stared at me.
“What?”
“Evening’s over,” I said. “Time for you to leave.”
“You’re kicking us out?” George said.
“I am.”
“Like hell you are.”
“I am,” I said.
“Julie?” George said.
Julie had begun to cry.
“You better go, George,” she said.
“Fuck that,” George said.
“Goddamned cockteasers,” Jimmy said.
“I think we should have our four-way whether they want it or not,” George said. “Might be more fun anyway, you know.”
I picked up my purse and stood. Jimmy stood, too, and stood in front of me.
“Just relax, baby,” he said.
He put his arms around me and pressed me against him. I kneed him in the crotch. He yelped and staggered backward into his armchair and sat clutching himself.
“You bitch,” he gasped. “You fucking bitch.”
George turned away from Julie.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he said.
“Get her, George,” Jimmy gasped. “Show her something.”
George took a step toward me. I took mace from my purse and sprayed him in the face. He stopped dead and buried his face in his hands, coughing and gasping, struggling to breathe. Julie was on the couch, sobbing. And I was pretty sure the lasagna was ruined.
I put the mace canister back in my purse and took out my gun. George had sunk back on the couch, rocking and gasping, his eyes shut, his face in his hands.
“That’ll wear off in about forty-five minutes or so,” I said to George.
Julie had moved as far away from George on the couch as she could get. She, too, had her face in her hands. She was still sobbing.
“Jimmy,” I said. “As soon as you can walk, take your pal and get out of here.”
“I’m hurting, bad,” Jimmy said.
“That was the idea,” I said. “If you don’t get him out of here in the next few minutes, we’ll call the cops and have them take you out.”
“Cops?” Jimmy said.
“Assault,” I said. “Attempted rape, maybe even make kidnapping out of the fact that you were asked to leave and refused.”
I knew that wasn’t going to happen, but I was pretty sure he didn’t.
“We didn’t kidnap anybody,” he said.
“You have fifteen minutes,” I said. “If you give me any trouble while we’re waiting, I will shoot you in the head. If you’re still here at eleven, I call the cops.”
“Bitch,” Jimmy said.
“Bitch with a gun,” I said. “Your worst nightmare.”
They were gone by the appointed hour. Jimmy was walking partly bent over, and George couldn’t open his eyes yet, so he was hanging on to Jimmy. But by eleven o’clock they had tottered out the front door, and I had locked it behind them. In the living room, Julie was now facedown on the couch, crying very loudly.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
38
While Julie cried, I called Spike from the kitchen phone.
“Something has come up with Julie,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it later. But I think I need to spend the night here.”
“And you want me to go over and stay with Rosie,” Spike said.
“I do,” I said.
“What if I have a date?” Spike said.
“Bring him along,” I said. “When do you close.”
“One,” Spike said. “And, curses, I don’t have a date. I’ll go over now. Let Brigit close up.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You have your key?”
“Of course,” Spike said. “I don’t lose things like some of us.”
“I don’t lose things,” I said.
“Oh, yeah,” Spike said. “Where’s your virginity?”
“Funny you should ask,” I said. “I’ll come home in the morning, and make us breakfast, and tell all.”
“Okay.”
“And be sure Rosie goes out before she goes to bed.”
“Okay.”
“And you know what to give her for breakfast if I’m not back yet.”
“Okay.”
“Spike, are you listening to me.”
“Out before bed, usual breakfast. I’m all over it,” he said.
“And don’t be trying on my clothes while you’re there, either,” I said.
“Too tight,” he said, and hung up.
I went back into the living room. Julie was sitting up now, on the couch, looking something close to tragic. Her lip gloss was smeared. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her nose was runny. Her eye makeup had eroded. She was breathing in a slow, shuddery way.
I was starving.
I sat down, cut a wedge of cheese from the serving board on the coffee table, took a few crackers, ate the cheese and crackers, sipped my crappy chardonnay, and waited for Julie to get her breathing under control.
“They’ve gone,” Julie said finally.
“Yes,” I said. “I watched their car pull away.”
“Do you think they’ll come back?”
“No.”
“They were awful mad,” Julie said.
“They are not tough guys,” I said. “They just like to swagger in front of women.”
“You think they’re scared?”
“And humiliated,” I said. “They’ll probably get even by going and gangbanging some other woman.”
“Can’t you stop them?”
“You want to press charges?” I said.
“Oh, God, no,” Julie said.
“Then no, I can’t stop them.”
“What will happen?”
“They don’t know if we’ve told the cops or not,” I said. “My guess is Jimmy will hightail it back to, where? Milwaukee? And George, without him, will just slink back home for a while and be grouchy with his wife.”
“I don’t want to see him again,” Julie said. “What if he comes here? I mean ever.”
“You know where his office is?” I said.
Julie nodded.
“Okay, I’ll visit him tomorrow,” I said.
“You’ll visit him?”
“Yes.”
“What if he does something.”
“Doing something didn’t work out terribly well for him tonight,” I said.
“You weren’t scared?” Julie said.
“Mostly I was mad,” I said.
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