I said, “I bet she wanted to say proselytize; but no one knew how to spell it.”
No one laughed; I was getting used to that. As we approached the group they joined arms in front of us, blocking the entrance. In the center of the line was a large man with a square jaw and thick brown hair. Looked like he’d been a tight end perhaps, at Harvard. He wore a dark suit and a pale gray silk tie. His cheeks were rosy, and his eye was clear. Probably still active in his alumni association. A splendid figure of a man, the rock upon which the picket line was anchored. Surely a foe of atheism, Communism, and faggotry. Almost certainly a perfect asshole.
Rachel Wallace walked directly up to him and said, “Excuse me, please.”
There was no shouting now. It was quiet. Square Jaw shook his head, slowly, dramatically.
Rachel said, “You are interfering with my right of free speech and free assembly, a right granted me by the Constitution.”
Nobody budged. I looked back at the cops. The wise-guy kid was out of the squad car now, leaning against the door on the passenger side, his arms crossed, his black leather belt sagging with ammunition, Mace, handcuffs, nightstick, gun, come-along, and a collection of keys on a ring. He probably wanted to walk over and let us through, but his gunbelt was too heavy.
I said to Rachel, “Would you like me to create an egress for you?”
“How do you propose to do it,” she said.
“I thought I would knock this matinee idol on his kiester, and we could walk in over him.”
“It might be a mistake to try, fellow,” he said. His voice was full of money, like Daisy Buchanan.
“No,” I said. “It would not be a mistake.”
Rachel said, “Spenser.” Her voice was sharp. “I don’t stand for that,” she said. “I won’t resort to it.”
I shrugged and looked over at the young cop. His partner appeared not to have moved. He was still sitting in the squad car with his hat over his eyes. Maybe it was an economy move; maybe the partner was really an inflatable dummy. The young cop grinned at me.
“Our civil rights are in the process of violation over here!” I yelled at him. “You have any plans for dealing with that?”
He pushed himself away from the car and swaggered over. His half-chewed toothpick bobbed in his mouth as he worked it back and forth with his tongue. The handle of his service revolver thumped against his leg. On his uniform blouse were several military service ribbons. Vietnam, I figured. There was a Purple Heart ribbon and a service ribbon with battle stars and another ribbon that might have been the Silver Star.
“You could look at it that way,” he said when he reached us. “Or you could look at it that you people are causing a disturbance.”
“Will you escort us inside, officer?” Rachel Wallace said. “I would say that is your duty, and I think you ought to do it.”
“We are here to prevent the spreading of an immoral and pernicious doctrine, officer,” Square Jaw said. “That is
The cop looked at Rachel.
“I will not be caught up in false issues,” Rachel said. “We have a perfect right to go into that library and speak. I have been invited, and I will speak. There is no question of right here. I have a right and they are trying to violate it. Do your job.”
Other people were gathering, passing cars slowed down and began to back up traffic while the drivers tried to see what was happening. On the fringes of the crowd post-high-school kids gathered and smirked.
Square Jaw said, “It might help you to keep in mind, officer, that I am a close personal friend of Chief Garner, and I’m sure he’ll want to hear from me exactly what has happened and how his men have behaved.”
The young cop looked at me. “A friend of the chief,” he said.
“That’s frightening,” I said. “You better walk softly around him.”
The young cop grinned at me broadly. “Yeah,” he said. He turned back to Square Jaw. “Move it, Jack,” he said. The smile was gone.
Square Jaw rocked back a little as if someone had jabbed at him.
“I beg your pardon?” he said.
“I said, Move your ass. This broad may be a creep, but she didn’t try to scare me. I don’t like people to try and scare me. These people are going in—you can tell the chief that when you see him. You can tell him they went in past you or over you. You decide which you’ll tell him.”
The young cop’s face was half an inch away from Square Jaw’s, and since he was three inches shorter, it was tilted up. The partner had appeared from the car. He was older and heavier, with a pot belly and large hands with big knuckles. He had his night stick in his right hand, and he slapped it gently against his thigh.
The people on either side of Square Jaw unlinked their arms and moved away. Square Jaw looked at Rachel, and when he spoke he almost hissed. “You foul, contemptible woman,” he said. “You bulldyke. We’ll never let you win. You queer … ”
I pointed down the street to the left and said to the two cops, “There’s trouble.”
They both turned to look, and when they did I gave Square Jaw a six-inch jab in the solar plexus with my right fist. He gasped and doubled up. The cops spun back and looked at him and then at me. I was staring down the street where I’d pointed. “Guess I was mistaken,” I said.
Square Jaw was bent over, his arms wrapped across his midsection, rocking back and forth. A good shot in the solar plexus will half-paralyze you for a minute or two.
