Susan turned her head so that she could look at me.
“There’s a saying I read someplace, that appetite is the best sauce,” she said.
“Meaning it’s not just what you are, it’s what I feel you are,” I said.
“I would guess,” she said, “in truth, that it is finally about what and who we are.”
I nodded.
“It’s what Gary Eisenhower and his women don’t understand, and probably never will,” I said.
“It is probably life’s essence,” Susan said.
I nodded.
“Maybe children, too,” I said.
“Maybe,” Susan said. “But we’re not going to have any.”
“This’ll have to do,” I said.
“It does very well,” she said.
She kissed me. I kissed her back.
“I’m thinking pancakes for breakfast,” she said.
Chapter 61
WE HAD PANCAKES for breakfast and walked down through Central park to Bergdorf and Barneys, where Susan shopped and I trailed along to watch her hold stuff up, and admire her and, occasionally, some of the other female shoppers. In the next couple of days, we strolled through the little zoo in Central Park. We had dinner at the Four Seasons and walked through Rockefeller Center and Grand Central Station, which I always liked to do in New York. We experienced life’s essence several times before we went home.
Life’s essence never disappoints.
It was a Wednesday morning when I got back to my office. There was a call on my answering machine from Vinnie.
“Call me,” he said. “I might have something.”
I called him on his cell phone.
“Where are you?” I said.
“In the Public Garden,” he said, “watching her house.”
“What’s up?” I said.
“Nothing at the moment, but Monday she had a, like, a incident with a guy.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“Guy’s waiting outside her house when she comes back from her health club. I’m trailing along behind, looking at her ass, and he, like, stops her as she starts up her steps. Puts his hand on her arm. She slaps it away. He says something. She says something. He puts his hand on her arm again. She shoves him away and runs up the steps into her house. He stands down at the foot of the stairs for a long time and looks at her front door. I’m up the street thinking if he tries to go in after her do I shoot him. But he didn’t. After a while he walked away.”
“It wasn’t a friendly exchange,” I said.
“No.”
“You recognize the guy?”
“No, but he wasn’t her type, that’s for sure.”
“What’d he look like?” I said.
“Big guy, ’bout your size, but, you know, he was walking on his heels.”
“Like punch-drunk?” I said. “Like a punch-drunk ex-fighter?”
“Be my guess,” Vinnie said. “Looked like a pug, nose was flat, and, you know, thick around the eyes.”
“Anybody with him?” I said.
“Nope.”
“Where’d he go after she went in and he stared at the door?”
“Walked down Arlington Street. I figured he was heading for the subway.”
“You didn’t follow him?”
“Nope. You just tole me to watch the broad.”
“I did,” I said. “Anything else happen?”
“Nope. She stayed in all the rest of the day.”
“No sign that she called the cops?” I said.
“None showed up,” he said. “This guy shows up again, you want me to shoot him or anything?”
“Only if you have to,” I said.
“Okay,” Vinnie said.
“I may stop around later and visit Beth,” I said.
“Okay,” Vinnie said.
“Don’t shoot me.”
“Okay,” Vinnie said.
He sounded disappointed.
Chapter 62
WHEN BETH JACKSON came out of Pinnacle Fitness and into the lobby, I was waiting for her.
“Buy you coffee,” I said.
She looked at me as if I was something she stepped in.
“I don’t want coffee,” she said.
“I’ll buy you whatever you want,” I said.
“I don’t want anything,” she said.
“Well, here’s the thing,” I said. “I’m going to keep annoying you until you talk with me for a little while, so why not get it over with now.”
“If you continue to annoy me,” she said, “I shall call the police.”
“Sure,” I said. “In the meantime, lemme buy you some coffee and talk with you about Boo.”
She stared at me for a moment, then sighed.
“Very well,” she said, and stalked ahead of me to the snack bar.
I knew Boo would get her, and if it didn’t, it would mean whoever Vinnie saw wasn’t Boo. If it was Boo, she would have to talk to me enough to find out what I knew. We ordered coffee.
“What about this Boo person, or whatever Boo is?” she said.
“Boo is the slugger used to work for your husband,” I said.
“He and a guy named Zel.”
The coffee arrived. I added some sugar and took a swallow. “Oh,” she said, “Boo. I hadn’t thought of Boo since Chet died.”
“Until Monday,” I said.
“Monday?”
“Boo stopped you in front of your house. You and he argued. You shoved him and went in. He stayed outside for a while and looked at your door.”
She didn’t say anything. She looked at me silently for a long time. I let her look. I was interested in what she’d come up with.
Finally she said, “Are you spying on me?”
“Yuh,” I said.
“Why?”
“What did Boo want?” I said.
“Boo,” she said. “So that’s who that was.”
“You didn’t recognize him,” I said.
“No. I mean, I thought he looked familiar, but… no.”
“And what did he want?” I said.
“Oh, God,” she said. “I have no idea. I thought he was some kind of stumblebum, you know? I just wanted him to leave me alone.”
I nodded.
“And I object to you lurking around spying.”
“Noted,” I said.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Got nothing else to do,” I said.
“Do you think I’m doing something bad?”
“Are you?” I said.
“Gary and I are just trying to live our lives,” she said, “in the midst of terrible tragedy.”
“Boo want money?” I said.
“No… I don’t know… I just wanted to get away from him,” she said.
“What’s the first thing he said to you?”
Her face got sort of squeezed up. Her cheeks reddened a little.
“I won’t talk about this anymore,” she said. “I’ve done nothing wrong, and I won’t let you question me as if I have.”
She stood up abruptly and walked to the elevator. I watched her go.
Spenser, the grand inquisitor.
Chapter 63
ONE OF SPENSER’S RULES for criminal investigation is that most things have two ends. I’d gotten nothing much from Beth’s end, so I decided to try the other end, and went out to JP to visit Boo.
Zel was cooking sausage and peppers when I got there, and I sat at the kitchen table and drank a beer he gave me while he cooked.
“Boo ain’t here,” Zel said.
“Where is he?” I said.
“Out,” Zel said.
“What’s he doing while he’s out?” I said.
“Got me,” Zel said.
He moved the peppers and sausage around with a spatula.
“Low heat,” Zel said. “Cook it slow. That’s the secret.”
“He go out much alone?”
Zel looked at me.
“Boo’s forty-two years old,” he said. “Course he goes out alone.”
I nodded.
“You and he doing any business with Beth Jackson?” I said.
“Beth? Chet’s wife? No, thank you,” Zel said.
“Trouble?” I said.
“With a capital T,” Zel said. “And that rhymes with B, and that stands for bitch.”