“The public seems less willing to buy this kid’s death,” I said.
“Which means Jumbo is in trouble,” Z said. “You flounder, they let you drown.”
“So what is Jumbo Nelson really like?” I said.
Z shook his head.
“Sick,” Z said. “Mean.”
“I’da guessed that,” I said.
Some clouds had drifted in front of the sun, and a light rain began to fall as we walked back to my car. Harvard probably had a deal with nature to clean up after someone barfs.
20
Rita and I sat with Jumbo Nelson in Rita’s office. Jumbo’s agent was with him, and a new bodyguard he’d imported from Los Angeles, who was wearing a black shirt, a black tie, and a snap-brim hat.
The bodyguard leaned on the wall beside the door and folded his arms. The agent was a good-looking woman in a creamcolored pantsuit. She wore rimless glasses with a pink tint.
“I’m Alice DeLauria,” she said. “I’m Jumbo’s agent.”
Rita introduced herself and me.
“Boston is quite lovely in the spring,” Alice said. “I hadn’t realized.”
“Can the fucking schmooze, Alice,” Jumbo said. “Tell ’em why we’re here.”
Alice smiled.
“Isn’t he cranky,” she said. “But okay, bottom line, we wish to discuss a change.”
“Such as?” Rita said.
“Such as getting rid of this asshole,” Jumbo said, and jerked his head at me.
I looked at Rita.
“Asshole?” I said.
She smiled.
“I guess he knows you better than I thought,” she said.
“I would advise you strongly against getting rid of Mr. Spenser,” Rita said. “He is very good at this work.”
“He hasn’t done a fucking thing to get this cockamamie charge off my back.”
“If it can be gotten off,” Rita said, “we will do it.”
“I’m firing him,” Jumbo said.
“You can’t fire him,” Rita said. “He works for me.”
“Then I’m firing you,” Jumbo said.
“You can’t fire me, either,” Rita said. “Because I quit.”
“Quit?” Jumbo said. “You can’t quit on me.”
“Can too,” Rita said.
“Well, fuck you, then. There’s a few other lawyers around,” Jumbo said.
“There are,” Rita said. “And if you hire one, I’ll bring him up to speed with where I am. Meanwhile, this meeting is over. Beat it.”
“Alice,” Jumbo said. “Goddamn it...”
“Oh, shut up, Jumbo,” Alice said.
She stood up and put her hand out to Rita.
“Well,” she said. “Kind of short, but certainly sweet.”
Rita smiled and shook her hand.
“Kind of sweet,” Rita said.
Jumbo stood up.
“Fuck both of you,” he said.
Rita smiled.
“Beautifully put,” she said.
The bodyguard opened the door. Jumbo waddled through it at full speed, with Alice DeLauria behind him. The bodyguard went out after them and closed the door.
Rita and I looked at each other.
“Who you suppose does the bodyguard’s wardrobe?” I said.
“George Raft,” Rita said.
21
Pearl, Susan, and I were sitting on the top step of her front porch on the first warm evening of spring. It was still light. The sun wouldn’t set until after seven o’clock. Susan and I were having cocktails. Pearl was surveying Linnaean Street.
“You’re going to stay with the case even though you’re fired,” Susan said.
“You think?” I said.
She smiled.
“I know,” she said.
“Why would I do that?” I said.
“Because you told Martin Quirk that you would,” Susan said.
“I didn’t say I’d do it for free.”
“But you will if you have to,” she said.
“How can you be so sure?” I said.
“Because you are a simple tool, and I know you better than I know anything.”
“Don’t be so cocky,” I said. “You might be wrong, sometimes.”
“Are you sticking with the case?”
“Well,” I said, “yeah.”
“Is it because you told Quirk you’d do it?” Susan said.
“Well, yeah.”
“Is anybody paying you?”
“Well, no.”
“See?”
“Okay, you got that part right,” I said. “But it doesn’t make me a simple tool.”
“I could sum you up in a sentence,” Susan said.
“What would it be?”
“You do what you say you’ll do. You aren’t afraid of much. And you love me.”
“That’s three sentences,” I said.
“I separated them by semicolons,” Susan said.
Sitting between us, as was her wont, Pearl was staring intently at a squirrel across the street. The yard was fenced and the gate was closed, so there wasn’t much else she could do, but she was giving it a hell of a stare. We sipped our drinks. People passed. Several smiled at the three of us. Susan spoke to some of them.
“Would you ever put your underpants on backward?” I said.
“Is this a trick question?” Susan said.
“No,” I said. “Dawn Lopata’s underpants were on backward when they took her to the hospital.”
Susan shook her head.
“No one would make that mistake,” she said.
“Unless it was a man and he was rushed,” I said.
“Unless that,” Susan said.
“Also,” I said, “she had rather large breasts but no bra.”
“How large?”
“I never saw her in person,” I said, “but in pictures she seems in the D-cup range.”
“Did she seem to be braless in the pictures?” Susan said.
“No.”
“It’s not a dilemma I’ve ever faced,” Susan said. “But most women would not want to go braless with breasts that big.”
“My thought exactly.”
“And you are wondering if maybe someone else dressed her?” Susan said. “And getting the bra on was too much work?”
“I am.”
“Would that mean that Jumbo did it?”
“Nope. But it means somebody wanted to, ah, clean up the scene a little.”
“Z?” Susan said.
“Probably.”
“Have you consulted Quirk about this?” Susan said.
“No.”
“Don’t you think you ought to?” Susan said.
“No.”
“Why not?” she said. “Why not take advantage of what he might have learned already?”
“We decided not to consult,” I said.
“Why not?”
“We both think the best thing is for me to start from scratch,” I said. “And reach a conclusion and compare it with Quirk’s.”
“He said that?”
“No.”
“So...?”
“I mentioned it, and he agreed. There’s stuff you know,” I said, “without saying much.”
“Oh,” Susan said. “I’m blundering into that male thing again.”
“No matter where you go,” I said, “you don’t blunder.”
“Thank you,” Susan said. “But talk to me about the, ah, male thing, a little more.”
“Quirk wants to know if Jumbo’s guilty. He doesn’t care if he can prove it. But he wants to know. If I go through the exercise and conclude that Jumbo is guilty, and Quirk’s conclusion is the same, then he can relax and let them railroad Jumbo, even if there’s no proof.”
“And that’s justice?” Susan said.
“Enough justice for Quirk,” I said. “As long as he’s sure Jumbo is guilty.”
“But he’s never said all this.”
“Mostly not,” I said.
“But you know it,” Susan said.
“I do.”
“Because that would be enough justice for you,” she said.