Robert B Parker - Spenser 26 - Hush Money

by Hush Money(lit)

  Harmon took in a long slow breath and let it out slowly. "University politics is very odd. You get a lot of people gathered together who, if they couldn't do this, really couldn't do anything. They are given to think that they are both intelligent and important because they have Ph.D.s and most people don't. Often, though not always, the Ph.D. does indicate mastery over a subject. But that's all it indicates, and, unform-

  nately, many people with Ph.D.s think it covers a wider area than it does. They think it empowers their superior insight into government and foreign policy and race relations and such. In addition these people are put into an environment where daily, they judge themselves against a standard set by eighteen- or twenty-year-old kids who know little if anything about the subject matter in which their professors are expert;' "Makes it hard not to take yourself very seriously," I said. "Hard, not impossible;' Harmon said. "More of them ought to be able to do it." 'But they can't?" "But they don't. Exemplar of the species is Lillian Temple. There is no liberal agenda, however goofy, that will not attract her attention. There is no hypocrisy, however bald, that she will not endure if she can convince herself that it is in the service of right thinking." "How about Bass Maitland?" I said. "Officially he is as committed to right thinking as Lil lian," Harmon said. "In fact he is his agenda."

  "He a friend of Lillian Temple?"

  "I believe they are more than friends."

  "Lovers?"

  "I'd say so." "Are they the source of the Robinson Nevins-Prentice La- mont rumor?" "Yes." "Where was Amir Abdullah in this?" "Amir declines to attend tenure meetings which he views, with some justice, as a bunch of white straight people who will only vote for people like themselves." "A situation his attendance might help to modify," I said. "Amir is never that lucid;' Harmon said. "Is he friends with Temple or Maitland?"

  "Since he is gay and black, Lillian feels obligated to like and admire him. Bass tries to, but I believe that Amir makes him uncomfortable."

  "How do you feel about Amir?"

  "I think he's a jerk;' Harmon said.

  "Since Robinson Nevins is black and alleged to be gay, why doesn't Lillian Temple feel obligated to like and admire him?"

  "Because he is a relatively conservative black. Which completely confuses Lillian.'

  "Harder to feel the white person's burden," I said, "if he's not asking for help."

  "Exactly;' Harmon said. "Basically, ,Robinson is interested in his students and.his scholarship, but if asked he will tell you that he is opposed to affirmative action. I have heard him argue that a course, say, in Black Rage, is not an adequate substitute for a course in, say, Shakespeare, or American transcendentalists."

  "Do you share his view?"

  "Pretty much. But whether I did or didn't I could still pay attention to Robinson because he tries to base his views on what he has seen and experienced, rather than on a set of reactions preordained by race or social class. Lillian and maybe Bass, and maybe Amir, though I frankly don't know what makes Amir tick, seem to feel that this is behavior unbecoming a black man."

  "Kind of rattles their stereotypes;' I said.

  "Yes, I'm afraid it does."

  "Would they lie about Robinson to deny him tenure?" Harmon thought about that. While he though! about it, I looked past him out through his window at an MBTA train grinding out of the station, full of people, mostly students, the train running on elevated tracks for a while to clear the

  parking lot below it before it dipped with angular sinuosity and disappeared into its tunnel. "Bass would lie, I think, about anything at all if it served his best interest. Lillian probably would not knowingly lie. She would have to be able to convince herself that it wasn't a lie. W!ficb she could do quite easily, since her grip on truth and falsehood is pretty shaky anyway." "Who actually told the thing about Robinson?" "Lillian?' "Did she say where she got it?" "No:' "How many people believed her?" '`That I can't tell you," Harmon said. "I can tell you that on an eighteen-member committee, Robinson got only three votes for tenure. Mine was one of them." "Will your colleagues be angry with you for talking so freely?" I said. "I imagine." "I can avoid mentioning your name." : "Feel free to mention it. If I said it, I'm responsibl for it." "Okay," I said. "You ever play halfback at Michigan?" "Tommy's a pretty standard nickname for kids named Harmon,'' he said. "I went to Williams College. I was a wrestler." "Ah," I said. '`That explains the neck." "And you used to box," he said. "Which explains the nose," I said. "And the scar tissue," Harmon said. "You going to talk with Lillian again? "Have to," I said. "I need to know where she got her information." "I'd like to know where she gets most of it," Harmon said. We shook hands and I left.

  The Limerick, nea Broad Street. "I figured you'd order a pink lady," I said. "I'm trying to pass," Farrel! said. "It's not working," I said. "Maybe if I wore my gun outside my coat," Farrell said.

  · "Might help," I said. "Long as it's not color-coordinated.,' "Department issue drab," Farrell said. "My off-duty gun is chartreuse.,' "Zowie.,' "Yeah. You invite me out to exercise your homophobia, or was there something you needed?" "Mostly the homophobia," I said. "But have you ever heard of a publication called OUTrageous? "Yes, I have.,' "What do you know about it?" "It is an obscure journal published by some graduate students which outs prominent gay people." "You're safe then," I said. "I'm also out." "Oh yeah. Is the paper legitimateT'

  "I haven't been able to prove that it isn't," Farrell said.

  "But its editor committed suicide a while ago." "I know. It's the case I'm on." "Someone thinks it wasn't suicide?" "Me," I said. "So tell me."

  I told him why I thought it was murder.

  "For obvious reasons, I catch most of the gay squeals," Farrell said. "If you'll pardon the expression. I caught this one. So as soon as you got something that won't give giggle fits to an assistant DA, let me know."

  The bartender came down the bar and put a fresh bowl of peanuts in front of us. While he was handy, we ordered two more beers.

  "You think there was something wrong with OUTrageous?'' I said.

  "Nothing I can prove," Farrell said.

  "But?"

  "But there's some blackmail involved."

  "There is," I said.

  "Got anyone that will testify to it?"

  "No."

  "We don't either," Farrell said.

  "So, what's your take on 'outing' ?" I said.

  "You start treating people as the means to an end, it's a slippery slope."

  "That's what I think. You sure you're gay?" "Gayer than laughter," Farrell said. "And younger than springtime."

  "You could of got all this from Belson, or Quirk," Farrell said. "Probably did. The gay aspects of this case bothering you?"

  "It's a pleasure to watch the work of a trained investigator;' I said.

  "Yeah, cops are us. What's bothering you.'?"

  I told him about the case.

  When I finished, he said, "Guy made a move on Hawk.'?" "when Hawk was a kid," I said.

  "I didn't know Hawk was ever a kid," Farrell said.

  "I knew him when he was a kid;' I said. "And I find it hard to imagine."

  "You and Hawk were kids together?

  "We fought on the same card when we were eighteen. But Hawk isn't what's bothering me."

  "You straight guys are simple tools," Farrell said. "Lemme tell you what's bothering you. You're chasing along after whatever it is that you can't quite catch, and every gay person you encoumer is sleazy, crooked, second-rate, and generally unpleasant."

  "Or so it has seemed;' I said.

  '"And, being a basically decent guy, despite the smart mouth, you fear that maybe you are prejudiced;and it's clouding your judgment."

  "Also true, except for the smart mouth part."

  "Same thing happens to me with blacks;' Farrell said. "I spend two months on a drug-related homicide and everybody's black, and everybody's a vicious sleazebag, and I begin to wonder, is it me.'?"

  "Neither one of us gets to deal with the best parts of a cu
lture,'' I said.

  "No. We deal with the worst. You got a case involving murder and blackmail, most of the people you meet are going to be scumbags."

  "Regardless of race, creed, or color," I said. "Or sexual orientation."

  "And not because of race, creed, color, or sexual orientation/' Farrell said.

  "You mean homos aren't any better than the rest of us?" I said.

  "Most of us are;' Farrell said, "but not all of us." "How disappointing." "I know," Farrell said.

  There was a big picture window in the front of the bar. The sun was west of us now and throwing long shadows onto the street outside. Men in suits carrying briefcases sidled in for a few fast ones before they got the train to

  Dover. It wasn't a place where women came much. "Shall we have another beer?" I said. Farrell grinned at me.

  "We'd be fools not to," he said.

  pad of lined yellow paper drawing little connection diagrams among the principals in the Prentice Lamont case. None of them seemed very useful, but that just made the exercise like all the other ones I had been through. Maybe it was time to get the cops into it. I knew Quirk when be tried the window Lamont had jumped from would agree with me that the suicide smelled bad. But with the cops crne the press, and Robinson Nevins would be frequently rr/ientioned in connection with the murder of a gay man. This was not, I was pretty sure, what he'd wanted when Hawk brought him to me. Twice the phone rang, and both times, when I answered there was nothing but the sound of someone not talking at the other end. I did business with enough wackos that it could be one of several, but at the moment my money was on KC Roth. After the second one I dialed *69 and the phone rang for a while but no one answered, which meant nothing. KC could have shut off her answering machine. She could be refusing to answer. She could have called from a phone booth which was now ringing to the empty side walk. Or it could have been someone else doing these things.

  It was after six when I left the office and walked down Berkeley Street toward my apartment. When I turned right onto Marlborough Street I saw her hiding behind a tree across from my apartment. When I got to my apartment entry I turned and looked over at the tree.

  "KC," I said. "You're slightly larger than the tree trunk. I can see you."

  She came out from behind the tree and walked toward me. She was dressed in black. She wore a large black hat, and

  her face, pale in contrast to her outfit, was tragic. "I can't stay away from you," she said. "Work on it," I said.

  "I think of you all the time."

  "How about the stalker," I said. "He come backT' "No. I need to talk with you." "Go ahead."

  "Can we go upstairs?" "bio." "Afraid?" "Yes."

  She looked up at me with her head lowered. She looked

  like an old Hedy Lamarr publicity still. "Of me or yourself?." she said. "You," I said.

  "Damn you, can't you understand how desperate I am. I've been abandoned, betrayed, my husband has left me, I'm being stalked."

  "I don't think you're being stalked anymore," I said. "You caught him?" "Yep." "And?"

  "I reasoned with him." "Who?" "Louis Vincent," I said. "Louis?" "Sorry." "Louis--oh my god," she said and fell forward into my armso I held onto her and waited while she cried a little. When she stopped crying I let her go. She stayed where she was, leaning hard against me. "Stand straight," I said. "I can't," she said. "It's too much, too awful." I gave her a couple of seconds and when she didn't stop leaning, in to me, I stepped suddenly back away from her. She lurched forward and caught herself, and got her balance. When she was on her own balanEe again her face dark¢ned and she looked at me. "You unutterable bastard," she said, and turned and strode away. Her hips swung angrily as she headed toward Arlingn Street. Unutterable, I thought. Not bad.

  across from the Fleet Center.-The Fleet Center had replaced the old Garden, and I could tell that the joint was trying to go along with the upscale clientele, becaus? there was a bowl of cashews on the bar. I had several. So did Hawk. "Usually it's a fight to see who gets the six cashews in a bowl of mixed nuts," I said. "Kind of ruins the competition," Hawk said. "When they all cashews." We drank some beer. "You got that stalker thing worked out?" Hawk said. "Yes, I identified the stalker and explained to him why he should stop it." "Firmly," Hawk said. "Quite." "Good," Hawk said. "Don't like stalkers." "Only problem is now getting rid of the stalkee." Hawk turned his head slowly and looked at me and his eyes were bright with pleasure. "She taken a liking to you?" "You might say." "Hear victims do that sometimes."

  "Sometimes;' I said.

  "You say she good-looking?"

  "Un huh."

  "And, you ain't available, being as how you in love and all."

  "True."

  "Maybe you can divert her my way;' Hawk said. "She'll thank you for it."

  "I'll keep that option in mind."

  We emptied the bowl of cashews, and the bartender came

  over and refilled it and drew us two more beers. Way upscale. "How we doing with Robinson?" "We?"

  "Yeah, you and me. We finding ut anything?"

  "We figure Prentice was killed;' I said.

  '"Cause of how he couldn't have opened the window;' Hawk said.

  I nodded.

  "And we're pretty sure he was blackmailing people;' I said. "How about at the university?"

  "I know that the rumor of his relationship to Prentice was introduced by Lillian Temple and a guy named Bass Maitland."

  "Lillian from Cambridge," Hawk said. "Clearly. And Bass is her boyfriend." "Lillian got a boyfriend?"

  "Maybe when she lets her hair down and takes off her glasses," I said.

  '`They don't do that in Cambridge;' Hawk said.

  I shrugged. "We know that both Lillian and Bass are friends with Amir Abdullah," I said.

  "Which tell you something about them," Hawk said. There were still cashews left. I took a couple.

  t]MJ 167

  "And we know that Amir had met Prentice because Pren- flee wrote about him in his little magazine." "So there a connection from Prentice through Amir to Lillian Cambridge and her boyfriend." "Bass Maifiand. Yeah there is." We both drank some beer. The bar was nearly empty in the middle of the afternoon. The television above the bar was dark. There was no music playing on the jukebox. The light from the sreet filtered QUIETLY in through the front windows. "You know what I thinking?" Hawk said. "Maybe," I said. "I thinking that d the kid Prentice banking a quarter of million out of the blackmail gig then it too good a gig to end when be die." "And you're thinking it might be a goqd idea to keep an eye on the ones doing the magazine now." "Yowzah." "That would be Walt and Willie:' "You know them?" "Yes:' '°They business partners or are they a couple?" "Couple, I think." "So one's in it they probably both in it." "Maybe," I said. 'q'hey know you tooT' "Yeah." "So we'll go by tomorrow," Hawk said, "and you point them out to me and I'll watch them for a while." "Christ," I said, "almost sounds like a plan." "Do," Hawk said, "don't it."

  was at a two-day conference in Atlanta. We were lying in my bed watching the Braves game on cable when the phone rang.

  A woman's voice said, "Is Susan therT'

  "No," I said, "she's not. Can I take a message.'?"

  "Does she make a lot of noise when you fuck her?" the voice said.

  "Mostly she yells 'bravo,'" I said.--

  "I'll bet she lays there like an old laundry bag," the voice said.

  "KC," I said. "Stop being a pain in the ass."

  "There's a letter for you," she said, "in your mailbox downstairs."

  Then she hung up. I thought about not looking, but that would be childish, so I got up, put on my pants, stuck a gun in my back pocket, and went down to look in my mailbox. The letter was there. Hand delivered obviously, no stamp, and no address, only my name. I took it and went back upstairs. Pearl was still on the bed though she had raised her head and was looking annoyed. I got back into bed beside her and opened the letter. It was handwritten in blue ink by

  u. o-r e. onrker

&nb
sp; someone who had been taught that a person was judged on her penmanship.

  I think about you and Susan all the time. Is it still romantic or does she just undress and lay on the bed? Do you take off her clothes for her, slowly, onq garment at a time until she's naked? Are you naked when you do it? Or do you undress after she's undressed? Does she respond? Is she lively? Does she know a lot of tricks? Is she kinky? Or is she just the kind of prude who closes her eyes and lets you do what you want to her? She is so smart and sarcastic I have often wondered if she could ever be genuine enough to enjoy sex the way I do. The way we wo,uld, you and I. I would give you everything. Does Susan ? I would ask nothing in return. Does Susan ? You could still be with Susan. And have me on the side. And when you were with me, you might learn things that Susan can't teach you.