Playmates (13 page)

"Body'd been there about a week," Corsetti said.

"Yeah, that's it."

"What do you need," Corsetti said.

"I need to know about a guy named Bobby Deegan," I said. "Probably from Brooklyn."

"Why?"

I told him without naming any names but Deegan's.

"I don't know him," Corsetti said. "I'll check with Brooklyn and get back to you."

Across the hall Hawk's success continued. In about forty-five minutes the phone rang. I answered.

"This is Detective Kevin Maguire," a voice said. "Detective Corsetti from Manhattan says you're looking for information on Bobby Deegan."

"I am."

"Okay. Deegan's been in twice. Once for grand theft auto when he was about nineteen. Once for hijacking a cigarette truck ten years later. He hasn't worked a day in his life. Been hustling since he got out of Queens College."

"Queens College?" I said.

"Yeah. Educated. Did a year of grad work there, too. Don't make no difference. He's a wiseguy. Grew up on the fringes of the Brooklyn mob. We can't prove it, but we're pretty sure he's one of the guys hit Joey Gallo."

"He married?"

"Yeah, lives in Far Rockaway, got a couple kids. But he fucks around. We're looking to get him for a cash room stickup at an OTB parlor in Manhattan."

"Who's he run with?" I said.

"Got a pencil?" he said.

"Yeah."

"Okay," he said, "known associates," and read a list of maybe a dozen names. None of them meant anything to me.

"You know any connections he has in Boston?" I said.

"No."

"What else you got to say about him?" I said.

"Bad news," Maguire said. "Got sort of college manners, you know, a breezy yuppie. Guy's crazy. Keep talking to you nice and shoot you in midsentence. You'd never know he didn't like you."

"He does his own work?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes contracts out. Doesn't mind doing it himself. Mostly it's what's convenient."

"Tell me about the betting parlor," I said.

"Last December. Four guys, went in with a key after closing. Tied up a couple cashiers, got seven hundred thousand or so in cash, small bills, no serials. Everybody in Brooklyn knows it was Deegan and his outfit, but nobody can tie it to him."

"Had somebody inside," I said.

"Everybody figures that, but we don't have anyone for that either. We talked to both cashiers until they turned gray, they don't have nothing to say. Two dozen people could have got a key legitimately, two thousand could have scooped it and made a dupe. Things ain't buttoned up really tight over there."

"Nobody's flashing money," I said.

"Deegan's been flashing money all his life. Story is he's made some heavy scores betting sports."

"That's the connection up here," I said. "He's rigging basketball games."

"Point shaving?"

"Yes."

"Can you get him on it?" Maguire said.

"Well, yes and no."

"What the hell's that mean?"

"Means I probably can take him down on the point shaving deal, but not without taking down some people I don't want to take down."

"They're involved with Deegan," Maguire said, "they deserve to go down too."

"All you need out of this is Deegan," I said.

"Any way we can," Maguire said. "Any other name, too, on that list I gave you."

"Name Madelaine Roth or Madelaine Reilly mean anything to you?" I said.

"Not right off," Maguire said. "She got something to do with Deegan?"

"I don't know. She was at Queens College, too, in grad school."

"Hey, there's a hot lead," Maguire said.

"She went to Georgetown same time as a local hood that Deegan's connected with."

"Jesus Christ," Maguire said. "You a campus cop?"

"She works at the school where the points are getting shaved."

Maguire was silent for a moment at the other end.

"Okay," he said. "I'll see if anybody knows her. Maybe she'll turn up on the computer. Goddamn thing must be good for something."

"Find something, let me know," I said.

"Yeah," Maguire said. "You too." We hung up.

I observed Hawk's technique for a few moments, then I got out the phone book and looked up the paralegal's number and dialed. In a moment I heard the phone ring across the hall. She answered.

I said, "This is Spenser across the hall. There's an escaped sex fiend loose in the building. He's masquerading as a big good-looking black guy and I wondered if you'd seen him." There was a pause.

"He's drawn obsessively to paralegals," I said.

"Does he rip off their clothes and do unspeakably kinky stuff?" she said.

"Often," I said.

"My God, he's here," she said.

"Want me to come over?"

"Hell no," she said. "Leave us alone."

She giggled again, blatantly now, into the phone.

"Oh hell," I said, "let me speak to him."

In a moment Hawk said, "Hello."

"I'm going down to Henry's and set new records on the Nautilus," I said. "If you're not at the moment of climax perhaps you'd care to stroll along and learn something."

I heard Hawk speak off the phone. "He worried," Hawk said, "that we at the moment of climax."

I hung up and headed out to the gym. The sex fiend joined me in the hall. "Jealousy an ugly thing," he said.

WITHOUT Dwayne, Taft won the Big East with an overtime at the buzzer victory over Syracuse and headed into the NCAA Tournament. Dwayne dressed for every game and sat on the end of the bench farthest from Dixie. The question was on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and the talk shows rang with it. Why isn't Dwayne Woodcock playing? Dwayne wasn't saying and neither was Dixie Dunham. The pro teams, Dixie said, were on his case worse than the press. Was there a reason that Dwayne shouldn't be drafted? Did he have a drug problem? Was there an injury? Taft's chances of getting to the final four without Dwayne were worse than my chances had been that day I fought Walcott.

Every day Dwayne showed up for practice. Every day he worked as hard as he always did. Nights he stayed in his condo with Chantel. Hawk and I had taken to trailing along behind him.

"Figure now that he ain't playing and can't help them," Hawk said, "might occur to them that he can hurt them."

"So we watch his back to protect him from people that you're watching my back to protect me from," I said.

"You get into weird shit," Hawk said.

We followed Dwayne around for most of that week when I saw Dixie after practice.

"Cort wants to see you," Dixie said. "Says if I see you to tell you to get on up to his office now."

"Gulp," I said.

Dixie kept on walking toward the locker room. Dwayne passed me without looking at me and went into the locker room behind Dixie. I left Hawk watching Dwayne and walked up across campus toward the President's office. I was aware that Hawk wasn't behind me and I could feel the muscles bunch in my shoulders as I walked across the unsheltered quadrangle.

In the outer office of President Cort, June Merriman looked pleased when I came in.

"Well, where have you been? President Cort has been trying to reach you for two days."

"Mostly I was home," I said, "playing with my knuckle knife collection."

"I'll tell the President you're here," she said. "Mr. Morton is with him! And Mr. Haller!"

"Wait, let me catch my breath," I said.

June pressed the intercom like someone lining up three cherries on a slot machine.

"Mr. Spenser has arrived," she said.

I couldn't hear the response, but she could and she said, "They'll see you right now," and stood and walked to the door to Cort's office and ushered me in, gladly.

Cort was at his desk looking serious. Morton was standing at the window gazing down at the campus. Haller was sitting on a couch against the wall with his feet on the coffee table. He looked amused.

Cort looked up at me for a long silent moment. Morton turned from the window frowning. I bore it stoutly.

"I'd like a full report, please," Cort said. He had on a double breasted gray pinstripe suit and a large silk foulard tie.

"I haven't found out anything," I said.

"That's your idea of a full report?"

"Often," I said, "I'm referred to as the great compressionist."

Haller recrossed his legs on the coffee table. "You've practically pillaged our student personnel records. You badgered a large number of faculty members, Dwayne Woodcock is now on the bench, Taft is likely to lose the NCAA championship tournament. Neither Dwayne nor Coach Dunham will comment on this. The national press is in full cry." Cort's voice was a masterful example of emotion under firm control.

"Aw, hell," I said, "it wasn't much."

"You have charged that Dwayne cannot read," Cort said.

I didn't say anything.

Morton had his arms folded across his chest. He had on a dark blue pinstriped double breasted suit with a large maroon silk tie.

"And you have nothing to report?" he said.

"Hard to believe, isn't it," I said.

"Mr. Spenser," Cort said, "we have been paying you to find out things that we want found out, not to disrupt this campus and annoy our faculty."

"No extra charge for that," I said. "It's a professional courtesy."

"There's nothing funny about this, Spenser," Morton said. "We want an accounting."

"Don't blame you," I said, "but I'm not going to give you one."

Morton looked at Haller. Cort looked at Haller.

Cort said, "Vince, do we not have a viable legal position here?"

Haller smiled. "Sure you do, Adrian. Everybody has a viable legal position everywhere in this great land, whatever that means. But in fact what you can do is fire him or accept his report. All other courses are, ah, counterproductive."

"Counterproductive," I said. "Vince, you been taking night courses?"

"Flippancy is no substitute for competence, Mr. Spenser," Cort said.

"That's too bad," I said. "I was hoping to get by on it."

Cort looked at Morton. Morton looked at Haller. Haller shrugged.

"You leave us no choice," Cort said. "I'm afraid we're going to have to terminate our arrangement as of now. We will honor your expenses through this afternoon until five."

"Call it even," I said.

I turned and started for the door.

Haller said, "Wait a minute, Spenser." He turned to Cort and Morton. "You think firing him will get him out of your hair. It won't. He's got hold of something's tail, I know him. He's not going to let go until he pulls it out of its hole and sees what it is."

"He will no longer be welcome on this campus," Cort said.

Haller laughed. "You think he cares? He isn't welcome most places. He doesn't give a shit, Adrian, whether he's welcome or he isn't." Haller turned toward me. "Do you," he said.

I smiled enigmatically.

"What have you got, Spenser?"

I shook my head. "I don't quite know, Vince. No, that's not it. I do know. What I don't know is what the hell to do with it."

"And you won't talk about it," Haller said.

"No."

Haller shrugged. "He won't let go," he said to Cort and Morton.

"We hired him on your recommendation, Vince."

"And you didn't listen to the warnings that went with it," Haller said. "He's good. There isn't anyone as good, let alone better. But he does what the hell he is going to do and if you don't like it he doesn't care. I told you that. You hire Spenser and sometimes you get more than you hoped for and sometimes you don't like it. You remember those words?"

Cort was angry. "Enough," he said. "If there was a mistake made, now is the time to rectify it. You're fired, Mr. Spenser, and you are to be removed from campus by the university police if you are in any way an impediment to the business of this campus."

"I love it when you're angry," I said. "Your whole face lights up."

WHEN Hawk and I got back to my office there was a message on my machine. "This is Maguire in New York. Nothing in the computer or anywhere else on Madelaine Roth. But Deegan has a girlfriend in the Boston area. Slips out on the old lady every other week or so and goes up there. You get anything, let me know."

Hawk and I looked at each other.

"Okay," I said. "That's more coincidence than I'm ready to buy."

"Be odd," Hawk said, "if it ain't Madelaine."

"So she knows Broz from Georgetown, she knows Deegan from Queens College. When Deegan is looking for someone to scrag me, she puts him in touch with Broz."

"Education a wonderful thing," Hawk said.

"She's got to be in on the fix with Dwayne," I said.

Hawk was quiet.

"So if I follow her around, after a while she'll lead me to Deegan."

"What you going to do when you find him?" Hawk said.

"Don't screw this up," I said. "It's almost a plan."

Hawk nodded.

"Okay," I said, "you stick with Dwayne during the day. I'll try to get the campus police to cover him at night."

"Thought they didn't like you over there."

"Why should they be different," I said. "I'll call Haller, and have him talk to the college."

"Be a good idea if you did that with everybody."

"Let Haller speak for me?" I said.

"In every instance," Hawk said.

I called Haller.

"Vince," I said, "there's some chance, I don't know how great, that someone might try to kill Dwayne."

"He is caught up in something, isn't he?" Haller said.

"Hawk will cover him during the day, but he can't do it twenty-four hours. Can you get the campus cops to cover Dwayne when he's home?"

"Yes."

"Are they any good?" I said. "Like they have guns and stuff, don't they?"

"They're all right," Haller said. "It's a professional force."

"Get them to cover his house," I said, "from six at night to seven. . ." Hawk frowned at me, ". . . ah, make it eight, in the morning. Hawk will take him the rest of the time."

We hung up.

"Seven A.M.?" Hawk said. "Surely you jest."

"Hell, I was worried you'd be insulted when I said you couldn't do twenty-four hours."

"Can," Hawk said, "is different than want to."