My office door opened. It was Susan. She had a small bag of Key lime cookies she'd bought somewhere and wanted to share them with me over coffee. Sharing meant Susan ate most of one cookie, and I ate all the rest in about the same amount of time. I had no problem with that.
"There's a fund-raiser at the ART Friday night," Susan said. "I'd like us to go."
She had put the cookies out on a little paper plate and was making coffee.
"Oh darn," I said. "I have to drive out to Fitchburg State and listen to a speech by a racist homophobe."
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"Well," Susan said, "I couldn't ask you to give that up. Decaf all fight.'?" "Sure," I said. "Want to can the ART and go with me.'?" I watched her as she spooned the coffee into the filter. She always made it too weak. "Yes," she said, "but I can't. I'm on the board, you know. I just hate to go alone." "Bring Hawk," I said. "He's got a good sense of humor." "Oh my," Susan said. We were silent for a moment, both of us thinking about Hawk at the fundraiser. "Whyn't you add another heaping spoonful of coffee," I said. "Won't it be too strong?" she said. "No, and a pinch of salt." "Okay," she said and didwhat I said, although I could tell by the set of her shoulders that she knew the coffee would be salty and much too strong to drink. She turned on the coffeemaker and stood looking down at it while it begsn to brew. "I'm missing you," she said while she watchtl. "Yeah, I'm missing you, too." "I feel like we haven't seen enough of each other," Susan said. "Working couples;' I said. "Do you think we can get away soon, just the two of us, somewhere?" "Yes," I said. "A mystery ride?" "I'd love that," Susan said. "I'll put something together for us." "I don't want to tour the new ballpark in Cleveland;' Susan said. "And you don't want to go to Cooperstown," I said, "and visit the Hall of Fame."
"That still leaves a lot of options for us," Susan said.
"I guess so," I said. "I wonder if KC Roth would like to see the Hall of Fame."
"She's probably in it," Susan said. "They probably retired her diaphragm."
"Her diaphragm?"
"I'm an old-fashioned girl," Susan said. "And not a jealous bone in your body." "Not one," Susan said.
The coffee had brewed enough to fill two cups. Susan poured it and put the pot back, added milk and Equal, and brought the two cups to my desk.
"Why are you going to listen to a speech by a racist homophobe?" she said.,
"His name popped up in the Robinson Nevins case." "Really."
I was on my second cookie. Susan had a small bite out of hers. The coffee was just right. I knew she thought it was just right too, but wasn't saying so,because she was stubborn.
"Last weekend a plane came to Logan and picked up Amir Abdullah and took him up to Bangor. The plane belonged to Last Stand Systems, Inc., of Beecham, Maine, and this speaker is the CEO of Last Stand Systems, Inc., which appears to be at the far right end of the family values movement."
"Is that being put kindly?" Susan said.
"Very," I said. "We asked Amir about this. He denied that it happened."
"So what will you learn by going to the speech?"
"Don't know," I said. "See what this guy looks like. Hear what he sounds like. Maybe I'll get to ask him about Amir. Mostly I don't know exactly what else to do, so I'm going to do that. You know, keep looking until I see something."
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"I know very well. We do somewhat the same thing in therapy."
We finished our cookies and drank our coffee. "Coffee's just right," I said.
"I thought it was a little strong," Susan said, "and a tad salty."
I grinned at her. I got up and walked around my desk and stood in front of her.
"I love predictable," I said. "Will you give me a big lingering open-mouthed kiss?"
Susan patted her lips with a little paper napkin that had been in the bag with the cookies. She stood.
"Yes;' she said. "I will."
Roth inviting me to lunch. I figured I was Safe in a public place, so I accepted. We met at the Legal Sea Foods restaurant in Chestnut Hill, and because we were early we didn't have to wait long.
"I've moved back into civilization," KC said, when she
was seated across from me with a glass of white wine. "Chestnut Hill?" I said. She shook her head.
"Not enough dollars," she said. "Place in Auburndale, the first floor of a nice two-family."
We looked at menus and ordered. KC had another glass of white wine.
"I... I have to say things," she said.
"Okay."
"I... I'm sorry about some of the crazy things I, did.
Calling you up and leaving you notes."
"No harm," I said.
"I was just.., crazy, I-guess. Crazy time, you know?" "I know."
"And of course I want to thank you for saving me."
260 P..O"t" '. r "Just had to convince you to save yourself. Your ex-hus-band was more useful than I was." "Yes. Burt was there for me. Sometimes I think I made a mistake. I could be there now in a nice house with someone taking care of me." "You can take care of yourself," I said. "I didn't do much of a job of it before," she said. "Your ex-husband send you money?" I said. "Alimony:' "Enough?" "Enough to be independent," KC said. "Or dependent." "Sure, men always say things like that. You have no idea what it is like to have been a,married housewife forced suddenly to take care of herself." "You're right," I said. She sipped her wine. The restaurant was busy. Legal Sea Foods are always busy. "You think I should get a job?" she said. "I think if you supported yourself and didn't take money from your ex-husband, in the long run you'd feel better about things." "I wonder if he's seeing anyone:' I didn't say anything. "He was there for me," KC said. "And he urged you not to misunderstand;' I said. "He reminded you that you and he had different lives to live:' "Of course you'd stick up for him. Men always stick up for each other. The old boys' network." "I'm not so old," I said. "Oh pooh," she said. "You know what I mean:' The waitress brought chowder for KC and lobster salad
for me. KC took the opportunity to order another glass of wine. We each had a taste of our lunch. KC's wine came and she had some. "But," she said, "I didn't ask you to lunch to complain." "Oh;' I said. "I just wanted the chance to let you know that I understand how much you've done for me." "My pleasure;' I said. "Is he-whose-name-shall~not-be-mentioned going to be in jail a long time.'?" "Ask me after his trial," I said. "What if he doesn't go to jail.'?" "lie will." "But what if there's, you know, a miscarriage of justice?" "Then we'll take the necessary steps;' I said. "You'll still be there for me?'' "It's sort of what I do, KC." "But I haven't even paid you." "I know." "What if he comes hack and I still can't pay you?' "We'll work it out," I said. "I... I just don't think I can cope if I don't know you're there." "Where.'?" I said. "You know, there for me." "As I said, that's sort of my profession." "You mean you're there for anyone who hires you." "More or less;' I said. She was taking in more wine than chowder, which was a shame because the chowder at Legal was very good. I finished my lobster salad. "When you were sitting by my bedside," KC said, "after
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the.., that awful thing happened to me, I thought maybe I might be more than just someone who had hired you to be there."
I didn't like the way this conversation was going.
"Part of the service," I said.
She put her hand out and placed it firmly on top of mine, and stared into my eyes.
"God damn it," she said, "can't you see I love you?"
I felt like I'd wandered into a remake of Stella Dallas.
"I don't think so," I said. "I rescued you from a bad situation. And you need to be in love with someone to feel secure and you don't have anyone else to love at the moment, and I'm handy and you think I'm it."
"Don't tell me what I feels" she said.
"Are you still seeing the therapist Susan recommended?"
"Drive all the way to Providence twice a week to talk about my father? I don't think so."
"Susan can get you someone up here."
"You think I'm cra
zy?"
"I think you need help in figuring out who to love and who to trust and what you need."
"Talk talk talk. Why can't men ever simply feel?"
"You need help in not generalizing, too," I said.
She stood up so suddenly that she knocked over her empty wine glass. She came around the table and threw her arms around me and kissed me on the mouth. I sat stock still feeling like a virgin under siege. Flight seemed unbecoming. KC was pushing the kiss as hard as a kiss can be pushed. I remained calm. When she broke for air she leaned her head back and stared into my eyes some more.
"I love you, you bastard," she said. "Don't you understand that I love you."
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"If you don't let go of me," I said, "and sit back down, I will hit you."
She straightened up as if I actually had hit her, and stared at me, and began to cry. Sobbing loudly, she turned and ran from the restaurant. Everyone in the place watched her leave, and then looked at me with either disapproval (almost all of the women, some of the men) Or sympathy (several of the men, one woman). My waitress remained unperturbed. She brought me the check.
corner of a variety store in a small weathered-shingle building at the top of a short hill which led down to the harbor. The coast of Maine was tourist country, and a lot of shopkeepers had adopted a kind of stage Yankee persona in order to fulfill expectations. "I'm looking for Last Stand Systems;' I said. The shopkeeper/postmaster was a fat old guy.wearing a collarless blue and white striped shirt, and bi blue jeans held up by red suspenders. "In town here," he said. As he answered me he eyed Hawk. The look wasn't suspicious exactly, it was more the look you give to an exotic animal that has unexpectedly appeared. The way he might have looked if I'd come in with an ocelot on a leash. "Where in town?" ' "Out the Buxton Road," he said. "Does it have an address?" I said. "Beecham, Maine." The shopkeeper was seated on one of four stools bolted to the floor in front of a marble-topped soda fountain, his fat legs dangling, his fat ankles showing sockless above a pair
266 of moccasins. There were donuts under a glass dome, and straws and napkins in chrome dispensers. "Does it have a number on it?" I said. "Nope." "If I went out the Buxton Road how would I recognize it?" "See the sign out front." "The one that says Last Stand Systems, Inc.?" "Yep." "That should help us," I said. "Might." "How do we get to the Buxton Road?" I said. "Right out front. Turn fight." "You been working on this act for a long time?" Hawk said. The old fat guy aimost§miled for a moment, but fought it off and stayed in character. "Yep," he said. "Real hay shakers wear socks," Hawk said. "Some do," the old fat guy said. Hawk grinned. We turned and went back out and got into Hawk's car and turned fight. Nearly all the houses were white and set on low foundations. Many had long porches that wrapped around the front and one side where people could sit in rocking chairs and look across the street at people sitting in rocking chairs looking across the street. The Buxton Road barrel-arched over a fast-moving little river and then flattened out between tall pines on the right and the sea-foamed boulder-scattered coastline on the left. The sea birds seemed livelier on this coast. There was very little of the effortless gliding that gulls did in Boston. Here, they flashed above the waves, and dove into the foam, and scooted over the rocks and snapped food out of the tidal ponds that formed among the rusty-looking granite chunks. About a mile out of town there was a nar-
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pine trees. A small sign, black letters white w°od, read Last Stand Systems, Inc. Hawk U-and pulled up onto the shoulder at the opposite above the ocean fifty yards down past the
"We could be bold," Hawk said. "And if it's the outfit that sent the well-dressed shooters," :said, "we could be dead." "Or, we could be guileful."
"Guileful? "Guileful." "I vote for guileful," I said. : "Good;' Hawk said, "what you suggest?" "You don't have a plan?" "I come up with the strategic ?ncept;' Hawk said. "Is that what that wasT' I said. "I thought you were just you knew a big word." "That too," Hawk said. "Okay, let's sneak around in the woods and see what we see;' "Covertly," Hawk said..
;."Of course," I said. "Covertly. Hawk and I were both in work clothes, which meant jeans, sneakers, tee shirt. I wore a blue oxford dress shirt the tails out to hide the Browning on my belt. Hawk ' used a shoulder holster. To conceal it he was wearing gray silk sport coat He took it off and folded it carefully He had a big.44 Mag under his arm. "Doesn't the weight of that thing make you tip to the · ideT' I said. "It do," Hawk said. "But you never know when you might shoot an elephant." Hawk put the car keys over the
"Case we need wheels real quick," Hawk said. "Don't want to be looking for the keys." '"Course this could be an outfit of pleasant people who make umbrella stands," I said. "With an unlisted number and a private jet," Hawk said. "Just a thought," I said. We crossed the road and went into the woods. It had that bittersweet scent that the woods often have on a hot day. Except for the whine of locusts, and the occasional movement of the wind off the ocean, it was very still. Pine needles were six inches thick underfoot. We made very little sound as we walked. We walked in a wide circle aiming to come to Last Stand Systems, Inc. from a direction other than the road. It was easy going. There was very little underbrush. It was as if the land beneath the high pines had been carefully cleared. In about twenty minutes we saw the compound. Not much to see. It looked like it might once have been a manufacturing facility that had been recycled. There were three cinder block buildings with those high glass windows that nineteenth-century industrial buildings used to have, the kind that have a fine wire mesh running through them. The buildings were painted flat white. The compound was surrounded by a high chain-link fence with razor wire on top. I climbed a tree. From there I could see that the buildings faced onto an open area about the size of a football field. An American flag was on a flagpole in front of one building. A couple of men in dark suits and white shirts came out of the building by the flagpole and walked across the open area and went into the building across the way. I looked down. Hawk had taken a seat under the tree with his back against the trunk and his ankles crossed and appeared to be asleep, though he probably wasn't. I sat in my tree some more. There's something about sitting
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when you're a grown man that makes you feel like a
But it was a feeling I understood, I'd had it before. I doofus-like, and looked at the layout. To my left was a entrance with a guard shack manned by a guard. The open, folded back out of the way against the chain
The central building with the flagpole was directly the gate. It was clearly the administrative place. The continued in and out of there. The other two buildings to be a barracks and maybe a supply warehouse. A of green Jeeps and a black Lincoln stretch limo with windows were parked in front of the administration :. They all had Maine plates. I noted the plate numbers.
As I watched, a man in starched fatigues and wearing a strolled slowly along the fence. There was a radio his belt on the hip oppositethe pistol, and a microphone his epaulets. At the corner he stopped and spoke another guy with the same equipment who had obviously down his length of fence. One of them leaned his chain-link as they talked. Which rnant the was not electrified. The other two lengths.:f fence hidden by the buildings. I watched as my guy turned and strolled back along his fence and, sure enough, met another guard at the other corner. Being a trained observer I concluded that the perimeter was guarded by four some more. The guards went back and forth. a half hour a squad of four other men in starched came out of the far building under the direction of guy and they marched out to change the guard. I sat more. In the next hour and a half I counted at least men in starched fatigues and side arms either guard-the perimeter or marching about in the compound in resembling close order drill. My left knee was :to hurt where I'd gotten shot once. I wasn't sure I
could stand the excitement of another guard change, so I climbed back down the tree ad stood and stretched out my
knee a little. Hawk tilted his head back and looked at me. "So, Hawkeye," he said. "
What'd you see."
"Looks like something between an IBM retreat and Pards Island," I said.
"Got a perimeter guard," Hawk said.
"I counted about twenty guys in fatigues and side arms," I said.
"Don't seem necessary for a bunch of pleasant umbrella stand makers;' Hawk said.
"No;' I said. "It doesn't."
"We tough enough to go in there and roust twenty guys?" Hawk said.
"Of course we are,"' I said.
"How 'bout stupid enough?" Hawk said.
"Sure, but then what? I don't even know what we're looking for in there."
"Same thing we looking for when we drove way the fuck up here;' Hawk said. "We trying to figure out the connection between Amir and this outfit."
"Oh yeah," I said. "And we're doing that because we think it might help us figure out who threw Prentice Lamont out the window."
Robert B Parker - Spenser 26 - Hush Money Page 17
