“You understand that?” Susan said to me.
“Yes,” I said.
“But if Tony wanted Ty-Bop to shoot someone for love?”
“Ty-Bop do it,” Hawk said.
“Does Tony know about love?” Susan said.
“Loves his daughter,” Hawk said.
“So he’s a possibility,” Susan said.
“Yep,” I said.
“But if you rule him out, you also rule out Ty-Bop and Junior,” Susan said.
“Yep.”
“How about this man Zel?” Susan said.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Boo?”
“Hard to imagine Beth seducing any of these people,” I said.
“Remember how far she’s come, and how she got here,” Susan said.
“You’re saying she could?”
“If she needed to,” Susan said.
“Could you?” I said.
“If I needed to,” Susan said.
“Egad,” I said.
Chapter 57
TONY MARCUS CAME into my office wearing a double-breasted camel-hair coat and a Borsalino hat. Ty Bop jangled in beside him and stood not quite motionless near the door.
“Arnold say you wanted to see me,” Tony said.
He unbuttoned his coat, took his hat off, and put it on my desk, and sat down in front of me.
“I didn’t know you still made house calls,” I said.
“In the neighborhood,” Tony said. “Going to have lunch with my daughter.”
“Give her my best,” I said.
“Sure,” Tony said. “What you want?”
“You know Chet Jackson got whacked,” I said.
Tony nodded.
“Couple days ago a woman named Estelle Gallagher got clipped with the same gun killed Jackson,” I said.
Tony nodded.
“You keep track,” I said.
“I do,” Tony said.
“They’re both connected with Gary Eisenhower,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
Ty-Bop was studying the picture of Pearl that stood on top of a file cabinet just to the left of Susan’s. I would have studied Susan had I been he, but Ty-Bop was mysterious.
“And Beth Jackson,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“You had any dealings with them since Jackson’s office?” I said.
“You think one of them done the killings?” Tony said.
“They both have solid alibis,” I said. “For both killings.”
Tony smoothed his mustache with his left hand and nodded.
“Remarkable,” he said.
“That’s what I thought,” I said.
“So you figured one or both contracted it out,” Tony said.
“Maybe,” I said.
“And you figure who they know might do it?”
“Yep.”
“And you thought of me,” Tony said.
“One possibility,” I said.
Tony sat back in his chair and smoothed his mustache again. After a while he smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “We talked.”
“How’d she get hold of you?”
“She called,” Tony said. “Talk with Arnold.”
“How’d she know where to call?” I said.
“Her husband had a number,” he said.
“So the cops must have stopped by,” I said.
“They did,” Tony said. “I’m used to cops. Didn’t tell them nothing. They didn’t know nothing. They went away.”
“What did Beth want?”
“She say she saw me in her husband’s office that day and she thought I was very ‘interesting.’ ” Tony grinned. “Say she want to see me.”
“And?”
“And I say sure,” Tony said.
“So you did,” I said.
“Yep. Fucked her about sixteen times.”
“Nice for you,” I said.
Tony grinned.
“She enthusiastic,” he said.
“But you didn’t elope,” I said.
“Nope, after we been fucking for a week or so, she say she need a favor.”
“I’m shocked,” I said.
“Yeah, I was surprised it took a week,” Tony said. “Said she wanted somebody to ace her old man and could I help.”
“And you said?”
“No.”
“How’d she take that?”
“Not well. She say after all we meant to each other. And I say, ‘I got nothing against your old man.’ And she said, ‘But don’t you love me?’ And I say no. And we go on like that. And finally I have Arnold take her out and drive her home.”
“Give her a referral?”
“Hell, no,” Tony said. “I put some people down, will again. But I did it ’cause it needed to be done. Not ’cause some broad bops me for a week.”
“She have any other candidates?” I said.
“To pull the trigger for her?” Tony said. “There must have been one.”
“But you have no idea?” I said.
“None.”
“You have any sense that Eisenhower was involved?”
“Nope.”
“Or that he wasn’t?” I said.
“Nope.”
I nodded. We were quiet. Ty-Bop had stopped looking at the picture of Pearl and was now, as best I could determine, looking at nothing I could identify. Tony picked up his hat, put it on, stood, and buttoned up his coat.
“You owe me,” he said.
“But who keeps track,” I said.
“Me,” Tony said.
He nodded at Ty-Bop, who went out of the office first. Tony followed. They didn’t close the door behind them. But that was okay. It created sort of a welcoming image. I was a friendly guy. Might be good for business.
Chapter 58
VINNIE MORRIS WAS a middle-sized ordinary-looking guy who could shoot the tail off a buffalo nickel from fifty yards. We weren’t exactly friends, but I’d known him since he walked behind Joe Broz, and while he wasn’t all that much fun, he was good at what he did. He kept his word. And he didn’t say much.
We were in my car, parked at a hydrant on Beacon Street beside the Public Garden, across the street from where Beth lived with Gary Eisenhower.
“Her name’s Beth Jackson,” I said. “We’ll sit here and watch. If she comes out and gets in a car, we’ll tail her. If she comes out and starts walking, you’ll tail her.”
“’Cause she knows you,” Vinnie said.
“Yes.”
Vinnie nodded.
“And that’s it?” he said. “You want me to follow this broad around, tell you what I see?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t have to clip her?”
“No,” I said.
“I don’t like to clip no broad, I don’t have to,” Vinnie said.
“You won’t have to,” I said.
He looked at her picture.
“Nice head,” he said.
“Yep.”
“How long we gonna do this?” Vinnie said.
“Don’t know.”
“She takes a car and I just ride around with you,” Vinnie said.
“Correct,” I said.
“Okay,” he said.
“You care why we’re tailing her?” I said.
“Nope.”
One of Vinnie’s great charms was that he had no interest in any information he didn’t need. We sat with Beth for several days. Mostly she walked. So mostly I stayed in the car and Vinnie hoofed it.
“She goes to Newbury Street,” Vinnie said. “Meets different broads. They shop. They have lunch. Today it was in the café at Louis.”
“Must be an adventure for you,” I said.
“Yeah. I thought Louis was a men’s store.”
“All genders,” I said.
“You buy stuff there?”
“Don’t have my size,” I said.
“Got my size,” Vinnie said.
“See anything you like?” I said.
“Most of it looks kinda funny,” Vinnie said.
“That’s called stylish,” I said.
“Not by me,” Vinnie said.
“She spot you?”
Vinnie stared at me.
“Nobody spots me, I don’t want to be spotted,” Vinnie said.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I said.
We did that for most of a week, with Vinnie doing all the legwork and me twaddling in the car. On a white, dripping, above-freezing Friday in late February, I called it quits.