“Alderson has visited those places. People from those places have visited him.”
“That’s it? What kind of spy operation are you running.”
Ives almost winced visibly at the word spy. I knew he would. It’s why I used it.
“We have a great many irons to heat in the fire,” he said sort of stiffly. “It’s a big fire. In fact, we have a lot of big fires. We can’t spare many people on one small blaze.”
I nodded.
“Alderson any kind of ladies’ man?” I said.
“There are women around him. We don’t know what his relationship with them might be.”
“Know the names of any of them?”
“No.”
The wind shifted and the rain blew hard against the plateglass window that looked out at the crisscross of Beacon and Commonwealth which created Kenmore Square. Ives and I both watched it rain for a little while.
“Is there anyone who might be with him more than others?”
I said.
“The lady in the tower?” Ives said.
“Not exactly,” I said.
“What exactly?” Ives said.
I told him some of it, leaving out the identities of Jordan and Dennis. Making no reference to the FBI. Without the FBI it wasn’t a very compelling story. But I was stuck with it. Ives drank some of his beer thoughtfully, and put the glass down carefully.
“Ah, young Lochinvar,” Ives said. “You are a lying sonova bitch.”
“I have told you nothing that isn’t true,” I said.
“And left out much that is,” he said.
I smiled.
“Your profession has made you cynical,” I said.
“As it should,” Ives said. “As would yours, and yet you remain sentimental.”
“What makes you think I’m driven by sentiment?”
“I know you, Lochinvar. Our first collaboration was over your young lady, I believe.”
“Long time ago,” I said.
“Indeed,” Ives said. “I also know your word is good. I’m willing to let you run a tab, because you said you’d keep me in the loop, so sooner or later, I will be.”
The bartender came down to see if we needed a refi ll. We didn’t. I gave him a twenty and told him to keep the change. He did. When the bartender departed, I looked at Ives.
“Despite your appearance,” I said, “and the fact that you talk funny, it is good now and then to be reminded that you’re not just another jerk from Yale.”
Ives smiled, as he stood and buttoned his trench coat.
“Dear boy,” he said. “There are no jerks from Yale.”
“Never?” I said.
Ives continued to smile.
“Well,” he said. “Hardly ever.”
14 .
It was the beginning of November. The clocks had fallen back and it was starting to get dark at four in the afternoon. I stood on the Cambridge end of the Longfellow Bridge with Hawk and Vinnie Morris, and looked down at the dark water. The river here was more like a lake, widened and slowed by the dam a couple of blocks east.
“She might recognize you,” I said to Hawk, “so Vinnie’s going to take her. I’ll take Alderson, and you pick up any third party that joins them.”
“She won’t recognize me,” Hawk said.
“You all look alike in a dark garage?” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Play it safe,” I said. “Let Vinnie take her.”
“What if they fi ve or six third parties?” Hawk said.
“Your call.”
He nodded.
Vinnie said, “You got a picture?”
I gave him one. Vinnie looked at it in the failing light. He was a medium-sized guy with very precise movements, like some sort of well-made intricate device. He was one of the two best shooters I’d ever seen. The other one being a guy from LA named Chollo. If they shot it out, I’d have bet on both of them.
“Any chance I can fuck her?” Vinnie said. “Never fucked a professor.”
“Maybe later,” I said.
Vinnie nodded. He looked thoughtful.
“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”
“Vinnie,” Hawk said, “you gonna fit right into the liberal scene.”
“Sure,” Vinnie said.
“We’ll pick her up at the college, out front,” I said. “Her office hours end at four-thirty. She always comes out the same door and heads for the Marriott bar, or the Kendall Tap.”
It was nearly dark when Jordan came out of Foss Hall and turned left toward the Kendall Tap. She joined Alderson and two guys and a woman in a large round booth. I sat at the bar near them. Vinnie sat at the opposite end where he could look at them. Hawk took a seat at the turn of the bar so he could keep his back to them. He’d have three people to follow when they broke up. I wondered how he’d decide.
The Tap was long. Interior walls of exposed brick. Tiffany lamps. A horseshoe bar, and three huge television sets playing without sound above the bar. There was a jukebox somewhere and it played most of the time. But since I thought Bill Haley and the Comets was the cutting edge of new music, I didn’t hear much that I enjoyed.
Jordan had so far resisted the Cambridge professor look. Her clothes bespoke designer labels, and money. She wore them with thoughtful respect for how good her fi gure was. Alderson too was stylish. Tonight he was wearing a gray suit with a silver tie. The other woman wore an ankle-length flowered dress with clogs. The two men were in jeans and T-shirts under Polar Fleece jackets. One of them wore a Greek fisherman’s cap. All three were younger than Jordan and Alderson.
Jordan made no effort to hide her affection for Alderson. She always had a hand on him. Rubbing his shoulder, patting his forearm, resting on his thigh. Alderson seemed barely to notice. It was obvious he didn’t mind, but he showed no sign that he sought it either. It seemed as if he found it to be just part of the environment.
The other woman, if she had worn makeup and managed her hair better, might have been good-looking, if she stopped dressing like Molly Pitcher. It was clear that she was with the guy in the light blue jacket wearing the Greek fi sherman’s cap. That’s how Hawk would decide. If she left with one of the guys, he’d follow them. Economy. Two birds for the price of one. They were all drinking wine, except Alderson, who had something on the rocks, probably scotch, and was sipping it as 58 if he wanted it to last. There was a lot of talk, and a lot of laughter, both of which were led by Jordan. Alderson seemed to enjoy it quietly. Shortly after seven, Jordan whispered something in Alderson’s ear. He laughed. They stood, said good-bye, and left. Vinnie and I went after them. Hawk stayed with the remaining trio.
When the evening ended, I didn’t know much more than I had before the evening started. Hawk told me that the woman in the long dress and the guy with the Greek fi sherman’s hat lived together in a second-floor apartment on Magazine Street in Cambridge. The names on the doorbell downstairs were Lyndon Holt and Sheila Schwartz. Vinnie told me that Jordan had gone straight home and stayed there.
“Not enough to crack the case,” I said.
“You wanted us to crack it?” Hawk said.
“Be nice,” I said.
“Shoulda said so before,” Hawk said. “We thought you the detective.”
“Hard to tell sometimes,” I said. “Hawk, you stay on Alderson. Vinnie, stick with Jordan.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Vinnie said.
“I’m coordinating the investigation,” I said.
“Try not to hyperventilate,” Hawk said.
15 .
Jordan richmond strode into my office right after nine a.m., her heels decisive on the oak floor. I was standing in my window bay drinking coffee and watching the career women hurrying to work along Berkeley Street. I turned when I heard her heels.
“You’re Spenser,” she said.
“Accept no other,” I said.
“Don’t be frivolous,” she said. “Did you give those tapes to my husband?”
“Those which captured the sounds of your indiscretion?” I said.