"Know any of these?" Hawk said.
Tony looked at the list.
"Don't see no brothers on this list," Tony said.
"Anybody you know?" Hawk said.
"Man, they all got those fucking bohunk do-do names, you know? I can't tell one from another one."
"Well, me and Spenser gonna be prowling around some of your neighborhoods," Hawk said. "You got any problem with that?"
"Live and let live." Tony sat.
"I think he means it's okay," I said to Hawk.
"We be prowling either way," Hawk said.
Tony smiled.
"You want a drink?" he said. "On the house. People see whitey at the bar, justify the new name."
"Like to help you out," I said. "But it's a little early."
"Whoa," Tony said. "I remember the days when you'd drink paint remover at nine in the morning."
"Never drank paint remover," I said.
"And we proud of you for that," Hawk said.
"Drop in anytime," Tony said.
"Anything helpful," Hawk said to him, "you know where to find me."
"Harbor Health Club. Leave a message with Henry."
"Nice to be remembered," Hawk said.
"Nothing to do with you," Tony said. "I don't forget much."
Hawk stood. I stood with him. Tony stayed seated. Nobody shook hands.
"Good luck," Tony said.
"Got nothing to do with luck," Hawk said.
12
"WHAT DO YOU think of Tony's story?" I said.
Hawk and I were sitting at the counter, having lunch, at the Town Diner in Watertown.
"Well," Hawk said. "Bunch of white guys with funny names come pushing into Tony's territory, and Tony lets it slide."
"Because he was mad at Gillespie?" I said. "And a couple of others?"
"And because some of the people the white guys with funny names rousted didn't belong to Tony?"
"There is no black crime in Boston that doesn't belong to Tony," I said.
"How long you think Luther Gillespie last, he starts skimming on Tony?"
"Not as long as he did," I said. "Are you saying that Tony's story doesn't ring true."
"I'm saying it's bullshit."
"Maybe Tony's afraid of the Ukes," I said.
"He ain't even afraid of you and me," Hawk said.
"He is intrepid," I said.
Hawk took a bite of his BLT and nodded while he chewed.
"Something else going on," Hawk said when he'd swallowed.
"Maybe they're cutting him in?" I said.
"On what," Hawk said. "It's all his anyway. Why he willing to share it?"
"We've ruled out fear," I said.
Hawk nodded.
"Tony ain't afraid," Hawk said.
"And we've ruled out inattention."
"What's the last thing you can think of, Tony didn't notice?"
I was having apple pie for lunch. With cheese. I ate some and drank some coffee. Hawk was drinking orange juice. He asked for another glass.
"Okay, we've ruled out inattention," I said.
"How 'bout love?"
Hawk smiled.
"Okay, no love," I said. "That leaves greed."
Hawk patted his mouth with his napkin.
"It does."
"But not just a cut of what he's already got," I said.
"He keeps what he's got," Hawk said. "And he gets what somebody else got."
"That would be Tony," I said. "So how does that work with the Ukrainians?"
"Maybe Tony playing them."
"Maybe they're playing him."
"Likely they playing each other," Hawk said.
"Likely," I said.
We were quiet while we finished lunch. I had some more coffee. Hawk ate only half of his sandwich. I looked at it.
"No good?" I said.
"Excellent," Hawk said. "Just don't eat so much anymore."
"Because they shot up your alimentary canal?" I said.
"Something like that," Hawk said. "Like orange juice though."
"Maybe you could write a diet book," I said.
"The sniper diet?"
"I could help you with the writing," I said, "being as I'm white and all."
"We get to that, massa," Hawk said, "soon as we clean up the Ukrainians."
"Be nice if we knew the connection."
"Would be," Hawk said.
"Got a guess?"
"No."
"What the hell is in it for Tony," I said.
"Money," Hawk said.
13
I HAD SHOWERED and shaved and brushed my teeth and put on my new black silk boxers. I was sitting on the couch in Susan's living room with my feet on a russet-colored leather hassock, reading the Sunday Globe while Pearl lay beside me with her feet in the air. Susan came into the living room, fresh from her bath, wearing a short blue kimono, and flashed me.
"Am I to understand that it's time?" I said.
"You are," she said.
"Have you thought of any way to keep Pearl from yowling at the door when we go into the bedroom and close it?"
"No."
"But we're not going to leave the door open," I said.
"Not unless you want a mйnage а trois," Susan said.
"Well," I said. "I guess we can put up with it."
"Maybe we can think of something to do," Susan said, "to keep our minds off it."
I followed her down to her bedroom. We closed the door. In a moment we heard Pearl's footsteps. Then silence. Then a scratch at the door. We got into bed together. Pearl began to cry at the door. Susan rolled over and kissed me. I kissed her back. In a little while I was hardly aware of Pearl. After a time, when Susan had let go of me and my breathing had returned to normal, I got up and let Pearl in.
She dashed into the room, jumped on the bed, turned around about twelve times, and plumped down hard against Susan, in the spot that until recently had been occupied by me. In the process, she scrambled the covers so that Susan had none and was lying naked on the bed. We'd been naked in each other's presence quite often. Yet Susan always had a quality of unease about her when she was naked, as if she'd been caught doing something embarrassing. I found the quality endearing. Pearl put her head on Susan's stomach and stared at me. I stared at her. Susan couldn't reach the covers without dislodging Pearl. She looked uneasy. Pearl didn't move.
"I think I'll start breakfast," I said.
"Fine," Susan said.
I didn't move. Pearl didn't move. Susan looked uneasy. Then she smiled.
"You're dying," she said, "aren't you? To say something about a dog and a pussy."
"Not in Cambridge," I said, and began to put on my pants.
Most Sundays, since we normally got a late start, we spent nearly half the daylight hours sitting in Susan's kitchen, having breakfast together. Susan set the table and I cooked. This morning I was cooking scrapple and eggs when Susan came into the kitchen, dressed in pale pink sweats with her hair in place and makeup perfectly on. Pearl remained at least for the moment on Susan's bed, apparently intent on fully reclaiming it. Susan poured herself some orange juice and sipped it as she set the table.
"What is in scrapple?" she said.
"Cornmeal and pig parts," I said.
Susan put her orange juice down while she fluffed up some flowers in a vase on the table.
"How enticing," Susan said.
"It's worse than it sounds," I said.
"I'm sure it will be lovely," Susan said. "Did you learn anything from Tony Marcus?"
"We suspect that Tony is not being entirely forthright."
"I'm shocked," Susan said.
I told her about Tony. Susan listened to me with full-faced attention. She didn't interrupt. She never interrupted if the discussion was other than playful.
"You're saying that Tony Marcus could drive these people out," she said when I finished, "if he chose to."
"Yes," I said. "These are tough guys. But they're in Tony's neighborhood, surrounded by Tony's people, and he's got them outnumbered."
"So he gets something out of having them there."
"Money."
"You're sure?"
"No, but what else does Tony care about?"
"Maybe nothing," Susan said. "But if it's true, he is unusual."
"Might be worthwhile to keep the question open," I said.
"I'm not advocating anything," Susan said. "But what difference does it make? Hawk knows the four men. Why not find them and kill them."