The bulky guy helped the younger man to his feet, and accompanied him outside. The big man on the sofa didn't move. Al Z got to his feet and walked over to the window where he stood for a moment, watching the street below, before turning and resting against the windowsill. The three of us were now on the same level, and I recognized the gesture of good manners after what had taken place.
"Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked.
"A girl came to visit me a few days ago," I began.
"Lucky you. The last time a girl came to visit me, it cost me five hundred dollars."
He smiled at his joke.
"This girl is the daughter of a friend of mine, an ex-cop."
Al Z shrugged. "Forgive me, but I don't understand how this concerns me."
"I had an encounter with Tony Clean after the girl's visit. It kind of hurt, but I don't think Tony got much more satisfaction out of it than I did."
Al Z took a long drag on his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke in a noisy sigh through his nose. "Go on," he said, wearily.
"I want to know if Tony took the girl, as leverage maybe. If he has her, he should hand her back. He doesn't need cop trouble. Not on top of everything else," I added.
Al Z rubbed the corners of his eyes and nodded without speaking. He looked to the fat man on the sofa. The fat man's head moved slightly, the eyes impossible to see behind his shades.
"Let me get this straight," said Al Z at last. "You want me to ask Tony Clean if he has kidnapped an ex-cop's daughter and, if he has, you want me to tell him to hand her back?"
"If you don't," said Louis quietly, "we have to make him do it ourselves."
"You know where he is?" replied Al Z. I was aware of the air in the room quickly becoming charged.
"No," I said. "If we knew that, maybe we wouldn't be here. We figured you might." But something in the way Al Z had asked that last question told me that he didn't know, that Tony Clean was operating in some place beyond Al Z's control, and I guessed that Al Z was weighing up his position even before we arrived. That was the purpose of the fat man on the sofa. That was why he had not been asked to leave, because he wasn't the kind of man anyone asked to leave a room. He was the kind who did the asking. Things were coming apart for Tony Clean, a fact that Al Z seemed to confirm with his next words.
"Under the circumstances, it would be unwise for you to involve yourselves in this matter," he said softly.
"Under what circumstances?" I replied.
He puffed out some smoke. "Private business matters, the kind you should leave private. If you don't back off, we might have to push you."
"We might push back."
"You can't push back if you're dead."
I shrugged. "Getting us there might be the hard part." It was handbags at ten paces, but the underlying threat in Al Z's voice was coming through loud and clear. I watched as he stubbed out his butt in a cut glass ashtray with more force than was strictly necessary.
"So you're not going to keep out of our affairs?" he asked.
"I'm not interested in your affairs. I have other concerns."
"The girl? Or Billy Purdue?"
He surprised me for a moment, but not for long. If there was a pulse, then Al Z had his finger on it and he would only remove his finger when the pulse stopped.
"Because if it's Billy Purdue," he continued, "then we may have the seeds of a difficulty."
"The missing girl is a friend, but Rita Ferris, Billy's ex-wife, was my client."
"Your client's dead."
"It goes beyond that."
Al Z pinched his lips. To his right, the fat man on the sofa remained as impassive as a Buddha.
"So you're a man of principle," said Al Z. He tackled the word principle like it was a peanut shell he was crushing beneath his heel. "Well, I'm a man of principle too."
I didn't think so. Principles are expensive things to maintain and Al Z didn't look like he had the moral resources to support any. In fact, Al Z didn't look like he could work up the moral resources to take a leak on a burning orphanage.
"I don't think your principles and mine would qualify for the same definition," I said at last.
He smiled. "Maybe not." He turned to Louis. "And where do you stand on all this?"
"Beside him," said Louis, inclining his head gently in my direction.
"Then we have to reach an accommodation," Al Z concluded. "I'm a pragmatist. You step lightly in this matter, and I won't kill you unless I have to."
"Likewise," I said. "Seeing as how you've been so hospitable and all." Then we left.
Outside, it was cold and overcast.
"What do you think?" asked Louis.
"I think Tony's out there on his own, and maybe he hopes he can sort this mess out before Al Z loses his patience. You think he has Ellen?"
Louis didn't reply immediately. When he did, his eyes were hard. "He does or he doesn't, somehow it all ties in with Billy Purdue. Means it's gonna end bad for someone."
We walked around to Boylston and hailed a cab. As it pulled up, Louis slid in and said, "Logan," but I raised a hand.
"Can we take a detour?"
Louis shrugged. The cab driver shrugged too. It was like bad mime.
"Harvard," I said. I looked at Louis. "You don't have to come. I can meet you at the airport."
Louis's eyebrow rose half an inch. "Nah, I'll tag along, 'less you think I'm going to cramp your style."
The cab dropped us off at the monolithic William James Hall, close by Quincy and Kirkland. I left Louis in the lobby and took the elevator to room 232, where the psychology department had its office. My stomach felt tight, and there was sweat on my palms. At the office, a polite secretary told me where Rachel Wolfe's office was located, but she also told me that Rachel wouldn't be in that day. She was at a seminar out of town, and wouldn't be back until the following morning.
"Can I take a message?" she asked.
I considered turning around and walking away, but I didn't. Instead, I reached into my wallet and took out one of my cards. On the back, I wrote the new telephone number for the Scarborough house and handed the card to the secretary. "Just give her this, please."
She smiled. I thanked her, and I left.
Louis and I walked back to Harvard Square to catch a cab. He didn't speak until we were on our way to Logan.
"You do that before?" he asked, with just the faintest hint of a smile.
"Once. I never got that far the last time, though."
"So, you, like, stalking her, right?"
"It's not stalking if you know the person well."
"Oh." He nodded deeply. "Thanks for clearing that one up. Never really understood the distinction before."
He paused before he spoke again. "And what you trying to do?"
"I'm trying to say I'm sorry."
"You want to get back with her?"
I tapped my fingers on the window. "I don't want it to be the way it is between us, that's all. Frankly, I don't know what I'm doing and, like I told your significant other, I'm not even sure that I'm ready yet."
"But you love her?"
"Yes."
"Then life will decide when you're ready." He didn't speak again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Angel met us at the airport, and we drove to the food court at the Maine Mall to eat before we headed north.
"Shit," said Angel, as we drove down Maine Mall Road. "Look at this place. You got your Burger King, your International House of Pancakes, your Dunkin' Donuts, your pizza parlors. You got your four main food groups right here on your doorstep. Live here too long and they'll be rolling you from one place to the next."
We ate Chinese in the food court of the mall and told Angel about our encounter with Al Z. In return, he produced a crumpled letter addressed to Billy Purdue, care of Ronald Straydeer.