The Professional (9 page)

“There’d be someone else,” Chet said.

“Uh-huh.”

“I know that,” Chet said. “You think I don’t know that? Hell, I even had some counseling about that.”

“Uh-huh.”

We were quiet. I could feel his resistance slide into place like a shield between us.

“I can’t let the sonovabitch get away with it,” Chet said.

“Even though you might do the same thing,” I said.

“In his shoes? Sure,” Chet said. “Might not get into blackmail, but the rest? Yeah, of course.”

“So maybe you should back off with Boo,” I said.

Chet shook his head.

“I gotta do something,” he said.

“Will it help you with Beth?” I said.

He looked at me steadily for probably thirty seconds without speaking. Then he shook his head.

“I gotta do something,” he said.

“Even if it doesn’t take you where you want to go,” I said.

“I’m a tough guy,” he said. “But not that tough. I can’t take it.”

“Too bad,” I said.

“You gonna do something?” Chet said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I may have to send Boo and Zel to see you.”

“You may,” I said.

We looked at each other. I felt sort of bad for him. But the shield was in place. The conversation was over. I stood and walked out.

I CALLED HAWK on his cell phone.

“You with Eisenhower?” I said.

“I in the lobby of a motel in Waltham,” Hawk said. “Gary upstairs, with a woman.”

“First of the day?” I said.

“Uh-huh,” Hawk said.

“Well, it’s early still,” I said.

“Uh-huh.”

“He had anything to say since you been tagging along with him?”

“He want to know do I think I can handle Boo, if he shows up,” Hawk said.

“And you said you could.”

“But modestly.”

“If it comes to that,” I said. “Zel is the real issue.”

“Shooter?”

“Yep.”

“I never heard of him,” Hawk said.

“Me, either, but if you meet him, you’ll know.”

“Like Vinnie,” Hawk said.

“Or Chollo,” I said.

“They do have the look,” Hawk said.

“So does Zel.”

“I keep it in mind,” Hawk said.

“Anything else?”

“Eisenhower say he don’t mind me tagging after him,” Hawk said. “Long as I don’t cramp his style.”

“Are you cramping it?”

“Not so’s I can tell,” Hawk said. “Mostly I trying to learn from it.”

“It’s good to make the most of a learning opportunity,” I said.

“He a pretty cool dude,” Hawk said. “As you honkies go.”

“He is,” I said. “Maybe he’s got some sort of natural rhythm.”

“He ain’t that cool,” Hawk said. “But he don’t seem scared. He seem like he can handle getting beat up, ain’t gonna change him.”

“He claims he’s tougher than he seems,” I said.

“Might be,” Hawk said.

“He ask you for a gun?” I said.

“Uh-huh,” Hawk said.

“And?”

“I say why you need a gun, you got me.”

“And he said?”

“I may not always have you.”

“Which is true,” I said.

“It is,” Hawk said. “So I tell him you could retire your dick for a while, or at least use it someplace else.”

“He didn’t buy that,” I said.

“Nope,” Hawk answered. “Say he fuck who he wants when he wants and he ain’t gonna change.”

“Man of principle,” I said.

“Sure,” Hawk said. “People live by worse codes.”

“And we know a lot of them,” I said.

“Where you calling from?” Hawk said. “You sound kind of echo-y.”

“Rowes Wharf,” I said. “I’m looking at the water.”

“You on you cell phone?” Hawk said.

“I am,” I said.

“You dialed it by yo’self?” Hawk said.

“I did,” I said.

“Man, you makin’ progress,” Hawk said.

“Susan’s been helping me,” I said.

Hawk’s chuckle was very deep as he broke the connection.

SUSAN AND I were in her booth in Rialto, where she always sat, because it was quiet and you could watch people come and go. We had just taken our first sip of our first drink when Hawk showed up with Gary Eisenhower.

“That’s the best you could do for a date?” I said to Hawk.

“I just the babysitter,” Hawk said. “You tole me to bring him.”

Gary put out a hand to Susan and said, “Hi, I’m Gary.”

Susan shook his hand.

“I’m Susan,” she said.

Gary slid into the banquette next to Susan. Hawk took a chair on the outside next to me.

“So,” Gary said. “This is the main squeeze?”

“Only,” I said.

“Well,” Gary said. “You going to limit yourself to one, this is a good one.”

The waiter took their drink orders and went to get them. “You are not yourself monogamous, Gary?” Susan said.

“You know I’m not,” Gary said.

“I’d heard that,” Susan said.

“Gets me in trouble sometimes,” Gary said.

“I’d heard that, too,” Susan said.

She looked at Hawk and at me.

She said, “I think you’re pretty safe tonight, however.”

“Yeah, are these guys the best? I mean the best.”

“Yes,” Susan said. “They are.”

The waiter came to announce the specials. We listened and looked at the menu and ordered. We had a second round of drinks, except Susan. After that flurry of activity, Susan turned and smiled at Gary.

“I know it’s none of my business,” she said. “But I’ll try not to let that inhibit me. Why are you so, ah, unmonogamous?”

“Unmonogamous,” Gary said. “You got a way with words, huh?”

Susan waited.

“Unmonogamous.” He laughed. “Well, I guess I’d answer why would I be unmonogamous. I mean, if you got a whole orchard full of peaches, why would you eat just one?”

Susan smiled and nodded.

“So,” Gary said, “lemme turn it around? Why would I be monogamous?”

“I’m not necessarily arguing for monogamy,” Susan said. “Just why in your case that nonmonogamy is so all-consuming.”

“No, no,” Gary said. “You didn’t answer my question, you did one of those shrink tricks, turn it back to me. First you need to answer my question.”

“Very astute of you,” Susan said. “Did you know I was a shrink?”

“No.”

“But you’ve had experience with shrinks.”

“Enough to know bullshit when I hear it,” he said. “No offense.”

“None,” Susan said.

“So. Why are you monogamous?” Gary said.

“Because unlike peaches, whose consumption is all there is—they taste good and that’s the end of it—persons have a variety of meanings and dimensions, and surprises, and feelings. I like those things, too.”

“And not sex?” Gary said. “You don’t look like somebody would not like sex.”

Susan smiled.

“Notice the too,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” Gary said. “That’s good, I was thinking, What a waste.”

“Nothing is wasted,” Susan said.

“Love to find out someday,” Gary said.

Hawk glanced at me. I shook my head.

“Why?” Susan said.

“Why?” Gary said. “For crissake, look at you.”

“Thanks, but that’s it, I look good?”

“Of course.”

“No other reason?” Susan said.

Gary looked at me and winked.

“Be fun to see the look on his face,” he said, and tipped his head toward me.

“Not for me,” Susan said.

“You love him,” Gary said.

“I do,” she said.

“À chacun son goût,” he said.

HAWK TOOK GARY home after dinner. Susan and I lingered in our booth while Susan had a cup of coffee and I didn’t. A cup of coffee at night would keep me awake until after the summer solstice.

“I know you brought me to meet Gary and see what I thought,” she said.

“And what do you think?” I said.

“Wow,” Susan said.

“Wow what?” I said.

“A clinical wow,” she said. “He’s absolutely fascinating.”

“In a clinical way,” I said.

“Absolutely,” she said. “He flirted with me the entire evening.”

“I know.”

“And he was very aware of you all the time,” Susan said.

“I noticed that,” I said.

“Sometimes you’ve been known to intervene,” Susan said.

“Not this time,” I said. “I’m kind of clinical myself.”

“Well,” Susan said. “He’s no simple matter.”

“You mean he’s not just a womanizer?” I said. “Who’s turned a hobby into a business?”

“Maybe he is,” Susan said. “People aren’t usually just one thing, though.”

“So a new theory wouldn’t necessarily replace the old one,” I said.

Susan nodded and gave me a big smile.

“So you’ve been paying attention all these years,” she said.

“I’m more than one thing, myself,” I said.

“You certainly are,” Susan said. “But think about Gary Eisenhower for a minute. What is his pattern?”

“Good-looking women with rich husbands,” I said.

“And where did Clarice Richardson fit into that pattern?”

“She’s good-looking,” I said.

“And she had a husband,” Susan said. “But not a rich one.”

“Maybe he was still perfecting his craft,” I said.

“Probably,” Susan said. “But we’ve been looking at rich, when perhaps we should be looking at husband.”

“You mean it matters to him that they’re married?’

“And maybe it matters to him that he can cuckold the husbands.”

“Which would explain why he flirted with you in front of me,” I said.

“You’re not exactly a husband, but you’d fill the role.”

“And if that’s what he’s doing,” I said, “how much more fun if he can extract money.”

“Exactly,” Susan said. “Particularly in these circumstances, when the money comes out of the husband’s pocket. Whether the husband knows it or not.”

“I’m not clear quite where Clarice fits in to this,” I said.

“No,” Susan said, “I’m not, either. There are, of course, many men whose sexual fantasies are directed at successful women, or women in authority.”

“Schoolteachers, doctors, lawyers.” I grinned at her. “Shrinks.”

“Yes.”

“Take them down a peg,” I said.

“Men like Gary often use sex to humiliate.”

“Into which need the blackmail would also pay,” I said.

“Yes. Plus, of course, the money is good as money.”

“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar?”

“Or sometimes it’s a cigar as well as several other things,” Susan said.

“You think the women are humiliated?” I said.

“Not necessarily,” Susan said. “It may only be in his fantasy.”

“You think all this is true of Gary?”

“I don’t know,” Susan said. “It’s a theory of the case.”

“Or several,” I said. “But they’re worth testing, I think.”

“There’s no reason to avoid the scientific method,” Susan said.

I pretended to take notes on the palm of my hand.

“Whoops,” Susan said. “I’m slipping into a lecture.”

“But gracefully,” I said.

Susan smiled.

“Anyway, it might pay off to go back over Gary’s, ah, career, and see what patterns you can find, and see if they support our theory,” she said.

“Your theory,” I said.

“Okay. What is your theory?”

“That you may be right,” I said.

“I will also make a small bet with you,” Susan said.

“Which is?”

“He’ll call me for a date,” Susan said.

“No bet on that,” I said. “But I’ll bet you don’t accept.”

“I only date you, snookums,” Susan said. “But if I were to go out with someone else, it wouldn’t be Gary Eisenhower.”

“Because?”

“I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be about me,” Susan said.

“Is that an informed guess?” I said.

“It’s a woman’s-intuition guess,” she said.

“Good as any,” I said

She finished her coffee. I paid the check. Susan got her coat. And we left. On the stairs I put an arm around her shoulder. She looked up at me and smiled.

“ ‘Snookums’?” I said.

“I’m the only one who knows,” she said.

I MET BETH JACKSON for lunch in a restaurant in the Chestnut Hill Mall. She had a salad. In the spirit of the season I had a turkey sandwich.

“You’re still seeing Gary Eisenhower,” I said.

Beth was wearing a fur hat like a Russian Cossack, and she looked cuter than a body has a right to. She speared a cherry tomato from her salad and popped it into her mouth and chewed and swallowed.

“So?” she said.

“Didn’t you hire me to get him out of your life?”

“That was then,” she said. “This is now.”

“What caused the change?” I said.

She ate a piece of lettuce and pushed her plate away. She blotted her lips with her napkin. Then she folded the napkin and put it down on the table. She took some lip gloss out of her purse and touched up her lips using a small makeup mirror. Then she put that away, put her purse on the floor beside her chair, and smiled at me.

“A girl’s got a right to change her mind,” she said.

“So now you don’t want me to get him out of your life?” I said.

Her smile widened without becoming warmer. She put her hands together and touched the center of her upper lip with her steepled forefingers.

“I wanted you to get him out of everyone else’s life,” she said.

“So he could be all yours?” I said.

“Exactly,” she said.

“He’s blackmailing you,” I said.

She shrugged.

“We need the money,” she said.

“You and Gary?” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “So we can be together. Chet can spare it.”

“But why join the effort to get rid of him?” I said. “Why not just stay out of it, stay with him, and collect the money that the others are paying him.”

“You think I’m the only one slipping back to him?”

“I’ve stopped trying to think,” I said. “I’m just chasing information.”

“I didn’t want anyone to suspect that I was still with him,” she said. “So I agreed to the deal with the lawyer and you. I figured I could help him, even, by being on the inside, you know?”

She was as perky as a chickadee but dumber.

“You keep seeing him,” I said, “and you may get him killed.”

“Killed? Who’s going to kill him?”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure why, but I wasn’t ready to quite give Chet up yet.