Sixkill by Robert B. Parker Page B

said. "Alice Something-or-other."
    I reached into my middle drawer and found the card she'd given me.
    "DeLauria," I said. "Alice DeLauria Inc., offices in Century City. She's not on my list?"
    "Nope."
    "You talked to her before?"
    "Nope."
    "But you remember her?" I said.
    "I do," Quirk said.
    "How come you did and I didn't?" I said.
    "Police captain," Quirk said.
    "Of course," I said.

31

    Z AND I WERE on the Boston side of the river, early, running intervals on the floor of Harvard Stadium. A woman in tight black sweats and in-your-face red running shoes was running the stairs of the stadium.
    Z was watching her.
    "Good ass," Z said.
    "Absolutely is," I said. "But before you get in too deep. It belongs to the girl of my dreams."
    "Her?"
    "Main squeeze," I said.
    "That's Susan?"
    "Uh-huh."
    "Holy Christ!" Z said.
    "My sentiments exactly," I said.
    "Sorry," Z said.
    "I often have the same reaction," I said.
    We reached the end zone and turned and sprinted the hundred.
    "That's really your girlfriend," Z said as we turned and started to walk back.
    "Amazing, isn't it?"
    "Did I hear she's a shrink?"
    "Yep."
    "From Harvard?"
    "She has a Ph.D. from Harvard," I said.
    "And she's with you?"
    "Every chance she gets," I said.
    "Why?" Z said.
    "Love makes strange bedfellows," I said.
    When she was through with the stadium stairs, Susan came down and joined us as we ran our last interval. She had no trouble keeping up. When we finished, we went to sit in the sun on the bottom row of stadium seats, and I introduced her to Z.
    She put out her hand. He shook it carefully.
    "How do you do, ma'am," Z said.
    "Susan," she said.
    "Yes, ma'am."
    Susan looked at me.
    "Is he always this polite?" she said.
    "He's intimidated," I said.
    "Poor Injun boy," he said. "Off the reservation."
    "What kind of Indian are you?" Susan said.
    "Cree," Z said.
    "And where are Crees from?" Susan said.
    "You mean before Paleface steal our land."
    "Yes, that's what I meant," Susan said.
    "Northern plains," Z said.
    Susan looked at me.
    "Susan's geography is pretty well limited to Harvard Square," I said to Z.
    "Montana, Wyoming," Z said. "Saskatchewan, Alberta. Around there."
    Susan smiled and nodded just as if she knew where those places were. I knew, and she knew I knew, that she didn't know which direction north was.
    "Do you speak Cree?" Susan said.
    Z rattled off an answer in Cree.
    "Oh, good," Susan said. "I like that the language stays alive."
    "Mother could speak," Z said.
    "You were close to her?" Susan said.
    "No," Z said.
    "Either of your parents?" Susan said.
    "Drunks," Z said.
    "Would you prefer to be called a Native American?" Susan said.
    "No," Z said. "We're not natives, no more than you. Just come here sooner from someplace else."
    Susan nodded.
    "My date, here, has promised me breakfast. Care to join us?"
    "Breakfast?" Z said. "It's quarter of one."
    "I never eat before I work out," Susan said. "It's a great diner in Watertown. Close."
    "No, thank you, ma'am," Z said. "Ate breakfast already."
    He stood.
    "Nice meeting you," Z said.
    "And you," Susan said.
    Z turned and headed off across the stadium. We watched him go.
    "My goodness," Susan said.
    "Most I've ever heard him speak," I said. "Christ, he was even sort of humorous."
    "Not only did he talk," Susan said. "He sounded rather like you."
    "You think?"
    "I do," she said.
    "Who better?" I said.
    "No one, if your goal is to be a wiseass."
    I grinned at her.
    "What better?" I said.
    "He looks good," Susan said.
    "And," I said, "he admired your tush."
    "See, he's very nice."
    "Every straight male alive admires your tush," I said. "Not all of them are nice."
    "Well, it's a nice trait," Susan said. "Z seemed very ill at ease."
    "Yes."
    "Is he that way with all women, or just Harvard-educated Jewesses?" Susan said.
    "I think it's because he isn't going to have sex with you," I said.
    "Why not?" Susan said.
    "Because you're with me," I said.
    "Oh, good," Susan said. "I'd hate to think he didn't want