artificial welcome outside bars and restaurants closed for the night. I turned up my coat collar and trudged down Boylston Street, thinking about the most encouraging way to tell Susan that her ex had upgraded from sexist to murder suspect. The rain came harder. This thing showed every sign of not working out well for me.
chapter twenty-three
SUSAN HAD HER first appointment at eight. Normally I never called her before she went to work, because she was zooming around like the Flight of the Bumble Bee, getting ready. Years ago I had stopped asking stupid questions, like why not start getting ready earlier so you won't be so rushed? And when I was there in the morning, I sat at the kitchen counter and had coffee and read the paper so as not to get trampled. But this morning I didn't want her to hear from television about the corpse in Sterling's office. They probably didn't have it yet, but I didn't want to take the chance. So soggy with two hours' sleep I turned off my alarm and rolled over in bed and called her up and told her what I knew.
"Do you know where Brad is?" Susan said.
As always, about important stuff Susan was calm. It is about the small stuff that she permits herself frenzy.
"No. He's not at home, or at least he wasn't last night."
"Do you think he is in trouble?"
"Yes," I said.
"Do you think he killed the man?"
"Don't know," I said. "He's obviously a suspect."
"Do you want to get out of this?"
"Not unless you want me to."
She was quiet on the phone for a moment.
"No, if you are willing, I'd like us to see it through."
"I'm willing," I said.
"When will I see you?" Susan said.
"After your last patient," I said. "I'll buy you dinner."
"Sevenish," Susan said.
Unless she had to, Susan never specified an exact time. Since I never knew how to time an arrival at sevenish, I always specified, knowing I'd wait anyway.
"I'll be there at seven," I said.
"Maybe you ought to try and go back to sleep," she said. "You were up awfully late."
"Good suggestion," I said.
"Yes," she said.
There was a pause.
Then she said, "And thank you."
"You're welcome," I said.
I knew the thank you covered a lot of ground. It didn't need to be exact.
Showered, shaved, wearing a crisp white shirt, with my jeans pressed and new bullets in my gun, I arrived at the office a little past noon, carrying a ham and egg sandwich and two cups of coffee in a brown paper bag. I took off my raincoat and my new white Red Sox cap, sat at my desk, and ate my sandwich and drank my coffee with my office door invitingly open and my feet up on the desk so anyone going by could see that I had some new running shoes. Except for the fact that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, I was the very model of a modern major shamus. After I finished my sandwich and the first cup of coffee, I considered what options the day offered. I decided that the best one was to drink the second coffee, which I had commenced to do when Hawk showed up carrying the red Nike gym bag. He took two coffees out of the bag and put them on the edge of my desk and sat in a client chair and put the gym bag on the floor.
"Want another coffee?" he said.
"Absolutely," I said. "Doubles my options."
"Got your computer disks," he said.
"Good," I said. "Give us something to do."
"What's this `us'?"
"You're not computer literate?"
"Been keeping company," Hawk said. "With a woman works for a software outfit. One night she show me the wonders of the Internet."
"Your reward probably for being such a studly," I said.
"Studly be its own reward," Hawk said. "Anyway, that more than I want to know about computers."
"You don't groove on the information highway?"
Hawk snorted.
"What I like," I said, "is how this wondrous artifact of science is primarily useful as a conveyance for dirty pictures."
"Of ugly people," Hawk said.
"Sadly," I said.
"Confirms your faith," Hawk said.
"My faith is unshakable, anyway," I said.
Hawk reached into the gym bag and produced a white
chapter twenty-three
SUSAN HAD HER first appointment at eight. Normally I never called her before she went to work, because she was zooming around like the Flight of the Bumble Bee, getting ready. Years ago I had stopped asking stupid questions, like why not start getting ready earlier so you won't be so rushed? And when I was there in the morning, I sat at the kitchen counter and had coffee and read the paper so as not to get trampled. But this morning I didn't want her to hear from television about the corpse in Sterling's office. They probably didn't have it yet, but I didn't want to take the chance. So soggy with two hours' sleep I turned off my alarm and rolled over in bed and called her up and told her what I knew.
"Do you know where Brad is?" Susan said.
As always, about important stuff Susan was calm. It is about the small stuff that she permits herself frenzy.
"No. He's not at home, or at least he wasn't last night."
"Do you think he is in trouble?"
"Yes," I said.
"Do you think he killed the man?"
"Don't know," I said. "He's obviously a suspect."
"Do you want to get out of this?"
"Not unless you want me to."
She was quiet on the phone for a moment.
"No, if you are willing, I'd like us to see it through."
"I'm willing," I said.
"When will I see you?" Susan said.
"After your last patient," I said. "I'll buy you dinner."
"Sevenish," Susan said.
Unless she had to, Susan never specified an exact time. Since I never knew how to time an arrival at sevenish, I always specified, knowing I'd wait anyway.
"I'll be there at seven," I said.
"Maybe you ought to try and go back to sleep," she said. "You were up awfully late."
"Good suggestion," I said.
"Yes," she said.
There was a pause.
Then she said, "And thank you."
"You're welcome," I said.
I knew the thank you covered a lot of ground. It didn't need to be exact.
Showered, shaved, wearing a crisp white shirt, with my jeans pressed and new bullets in my gun, I arrived at the office a little past noon, carrying a ham and egg sandwich and two cups of coffee in a brown paper bag. I took off my raincoat and my new white Red Sox cap, sat at my desk, and ate my sandwich and drank my coffee with my office door invitingly open and my feet up on the desk so anyone going by could see that I had some new running shoes. Except for the fact that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, I was the very model of a modern major shamus. After I finished my sandwich and the first cup of coffee, I considered what options the day offered. I decided that the best one was to drink the second coffee, which I had commenced to do when Hawk showed up carrying the red Nike gym bag. He took two coffees out of the bag and put them on the edge of my desk and sat in a client chair and put the gym bag on the floor.
"Want another coffee?" he said.
"Absolutely," I said. "Doubles my options."
"Got your computer disks," he said.
"Good," I said. "Give us something to do."
"What's this `us'?"
"You're not computer literate?"
"Been keeping company," Hawk said. "With a woman works for a software outfit. One night she show me the wonders of the Internet."
"Your reward probably for being such a studly," I said.
"Studly be its own reward," Hawk said. "Anyway, that more than I want to know about computers."
"You don't groove on the information highway?"
Hawk snorted.
"What I like," I said, "is how this wondrous artifact of science is primarily useful as a conveyance for dirty pictures."
"Of ugly people," Hawk said.
"Sadly," I said.
"Confirms your faith," Hawk said.
"My faith is unshakable, anyway," I said.
Hawk reached into the gym bag and produced a white
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