“I haven’t had a chance to read the reports,” Maitland said sullenly.
“They were distributed three days ago. We all had the chance,” Tillman said. “I took advantage of it, you didn’t. Do you have anything else to tell us, Mr. Spenser?”
“I have a couple of guesses. One, I think Amir was beginning to tire of Milo. Amir’s taste usually ran younger. Or maybe Milo was tiring of Amir. Whatever, Amir proposed the blackmail scheme to Walt and Willie, the two young men who inherited OUTrageous. He told them he didn’t want a cut. Presumably he didn’t need money as long as he was with Milo. But if he was tiring of Milo, or vice versa, or was simply insecure in the covertness of the relationship, and was going to be on his own again, then he’d need to supplement his teaching salary with blackmail money as he had before, and he wanted the system in place. He also took up with one of the young men.”
“Foresighted,” Tillman said.
The committee asked me maybe a dozen questions. Tommy Harmon spoke about the injustice that they were trying to avert. Bass Maitland made a formal statement about the danger of taking these decisions from the hands of the department. Lillian Temple concurred.
“Are we ready for a vote?” Tillman said.
They were.
“Very well,” Tillman said. “Mr. Spenser, will you step outside, please. Professors Temple, Harmon, Maitland will join him please.”
All the time we stood outside in the corridor nobody said anything. I looked at Lillian Temple. She stood as close as dignity permitted to Bass Maitland and looked at something else. Anything else. I was sort of hoping Bass would call me a liar again. He didn’t. Maybe I could put an eraser on my shoulder and dare him to knock it off. I thought about explaining that to Susan afterward, and decided not to dare him.
In about twenty minutes the committee came out in ones and twos and dispersed without saying anything to us. Tillman came out last.
“The committee has voted to recommend to the dean that Robinson Nevins be granted tenure,” he said.
Tommy Harmon broke into a wide grin and shook my hand.
“You’ll inform Robinson?” I said.
“Right now,” he said and walked away.
Bass Maitland and Lillian Temple were still there. He began to walk away. She lingered for a moment behind him.
“Well,” she said. “It looks like you’ve won.”
“Yes,” I said. “It looks like I have.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I…” She paused for a long time. I waited. Finally she shook her head and turned and started after Maitland.
“Sleep warm,” I said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Apparently it was going to rain forever. But today, so it shouldn’t be boring, there was thunder and lightning as well. I was standing at my window watching the rainwater overwhelm the storm drains and back up over the sidewalk on Berkeley Street. A long streak of lightning razzmatazzed across the sky, followed hard upon by thunder. It was early, people were on their way to work. Below me a scatter of colorful umbrella tops was bright against the gleaming wet pavement. Flowers on a dark wet field.
Behind me someone knocked on my office door. I turned away from the storm and looked at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
A fat guy with his hat on backward came in.
“You Spenser?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Got a couch here.”
“A couch?”
“Yeah, where you want it.”
“I didn’t buy a couch,” I said.
“Well, somebody did, says here your name, this address.”
“Does it say who bought it?”
“Nope. Got a phone number though.”
He read it to me. It was Susan’s.
“Put it next to the door,” I said.
He went back out and in a minute he came in with one end of a couch wrapped in plastic. At the other end was a tall thin black man who was probably Haitian. They put the couch down, the Haitian man took the plastric wrap off it. The fat guy with the hat got my signature on the slip and they left. I closed the door and looked at the couch. It was very manly looking, brass studs, dark green leather, and long. I tried stretching out on it. Nap-able. I got up and went back and looked at the weather some more. More lightning jittered past. Behind me the door opened. It was Susan wearing a scarlet silk raincoat and a big hat. She had a large bag of something with her. As soon as she got inside she turned and studied the couch.
“Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute,” she said.
“Five cutes,” I said. “You look like the rain goddess.”
“I know,” she said. “Do we love our new couch?”
“Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute,” I said.
“You’ve got the phrasing all wrong,” she said. “You pause after the second cute, then rattle off the last three rapidly.”
“I’ll work on it,” I said. “What’s in the bag?”
“Eats,” she said. “In case you’ve not had breakfast.”
“I can always use another breakfast,” I said.
“Egg salad sandwiches,” Susan said, as she took things out of the bag, and put them on my desk. “On light rye, coffee, and some adorable little Key lime cookies.”
“Excellent choices,” I said. “Why do I have a new couch in my office?”
“You need one,” Susan said.
She put napkins out and unwrapped one of the sandwiches. It was cut in quarters.
“Be nice for Pearl,” I said, “next bring your dog to work day.”
“Yes, she hates sleeping on the floor.”
“Me too,” I said. “How come you’re not working?”
“I canceled my appointments today, I thought we needed to celebrate.”
“Have I missed an anniversary date?” I said.
“No. I just think you’ve done a hell of a job in some very messy cases that your friends got you into.”
The room brightened for a moment as thunder chased lightning past the window. I had a bite of sandwich and a sip of coffee.
“You being one of the friends?” I said.
“And Hawk being the other.”
“What are friends for?”
“And Hawk’s friend got tenure?” Susan said.
“Yes.”
“And Amir whatsisname is going to jail?”
“Pretty sure. Couple of state cops found him hiding naked, trying to get out of the rain, in a culvert under 495. Soon as they got him into the car he started blaming Milo for all his troubles, and along the way confessed to everything. Which works out great because Milo is blaming everything on Amir.”
“What about Milo?” Susan said.
“He appears eager to testify against Amir, and the two security guys who tossed Prentice out the window.”
“Will he go to jail?”
“I believe him that he didn’t know about the Lamont murder,” I said. “And since it’s not illegal to be a racist gay homophobe, I assume that if the DA believes him, he’ll walk when he gets through testifying. His future as a charismatic leader seems grim, though.”
We ate a little more sandwich and watched a little more lightning and listened to a little more thunder.
“I know the meteorological explanations,” I said to Susan, “and I believe them. But it’s hard not to think of the gods during a thunderstorm.”
“I know,” she said. “And Robinson wasn’t even gay.”
“Nope.”
“But he wouldn’t say so.”
“Nope.”
“That’s either great integrity or great foolishness.”
“Integrity is often foolish,” I said.
She smiled at me and I was thrilled.
“Of course it is,” she said. “I understand from sources that KC Roth has gone back to her therapist in Providence.”
“Just needed a little professional intervention,” I said.
“Didn’t you
tell me that she asked if you’d ever had sex in the office?”
“Yes.”
“And you said you didn’t want to do so on the floor, and were waiting for a couch.”
“Why yes,” I said.
Susan smiled again. Not the smile of approval, which thrilled me, but the smile of promise which could easily launch a thousand ships.
“I believe I see a pattern emerging,” I said.
“You’re a trained observer,” Susan said. “Do you mind making love after you’ve eaten?”
“After, before, during, instead of – whatever the schedule calls for.”
Susan got up and went to my door and locked it. Then she took off her raincoat and hung it on the coatrack. She took her hat off and put it on top of my file cabinet. She slipped her dress over her head, and hung it on a hanger on the rack, taking time to smooth out any wrinkles. She fluffed her hair carefully. Then she turned and smiled at me and finished undressing. She picked up the big hat and put it on.
“Shall we try the couch?” she said.
“With the hat on?” I said.
“Special effects,” Susan said.
“Works for me,” I said.
The hat was on the floor shortly after we began. The storm made the room sort of dim, except when the lightning made it brilliant. The rain was thick on the window. By the time we finished we were on the floor beside the hat.
“So much for the new couch,” I said.
Susan pressed her face into my neck as if her nose were cold.
“So much for KC Roth,” she said.
And we lay there with our arms around each other and laughed while the thunder and lightning frolicked with the rain outside.
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