”I didn’t…“
I hit the desk with the palm of my hand and leaned a little closer so my face was about three inches from his. ”Don’t bullshit, you keep saying didn’t to me and you’ll be down to Walpole doing the jailhouse rock for the rest of your goddamned life. Don’t didn’t me, creep.“ Not bad, me and Kirk Douglas. I wondered if the palm slamming was overacting.
It wasn’t. He folded like a camp chair. ”Okay, okay. Sure. I’ll go for it. It’s a good deal.“
”You bet your ass it’s a good deal,“ I said. ”And if you don’t stick to your end of it, you’ll boogie on down to Walpole faster than you can say first degree murder. And, I may stick my thumb in your eye before you leave.“
”Okay,“ he said. ”Okay. How much you want to start?“
”I’ll bill you,“ I said. ”And if you think when I leave you can call Harry Cotton and have me taken away, you are going to be disappointed.“
”I wasn’t thinking that,“ Giacomin said.
”Bills are due upon receipt,“ I said.
”Yeah, sure. On receipt.“
I straightened up and turned and walked out the door. I closed it behind me. I waited about thirty seconds then I opened it again. Giacomin was on the phone. When I looked in he hung up suddenly.
I nodded. ”Rat shit like you is predictable,“ I said. I leveled a forefinger at him. ”Don’t mess with this, Melvin. Maybe it won’t be Walpole. Capital punishment is regaining favor.“
He sat and looked at me and said nothing. I left the door open this time and walked away without looking back.
I drove into Boston. Disco Stephen lived in Charles River Park and I still had Patty Giacomin to talk with. I parked on Blossom Street and walked down.
Patty Giacomin let me in. Stephen was there too in a faded Levi’s shirt and jeans, and artfully broken-in over- the-ankle moccasins with big leather stitching. There was a leather thong tight around his neck. He was sipping from an enormous brandy snifter.
”What do you want?“ she said. She was carrying a snifter twin to Stephen’s.
”Christ, it must run in the family,“ I said.
”What?“
”Clever repartee.“
”Well, what do you want?“
”We need to talk alone.“
”I have no secrets from Stephen.“
”I bet you do,“ I said. ”I bet you don’t share too many of your adventures in the New York Hilton with Old Disco.“
Her head lifted a little. ”I beg your pardon?“ she said.
”Can we speak privately for about five minutes?“
She paused for a long time then she said, ”Certainly, if you insist. Stephen? Could you?“
”Certainly,“ he said. ”I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.“
I let that pass.
When he was gone, she walked over to the window and looked down at the river. I walked with her. When we were as far as we could get from where Stephen could hear, she said softly, ”You rotten bastard, what are you doing to me?“
”I’m telling you I know about how you used to go down to the New York Hilton once a month and screw whatever came by.“
”You rotten prick,“ she said softly.
”Oh,“ I said. ”You’ve found out.“
She didn’t speak. Her face was very red. She drank some brandy.
I said, ”I’ve made a deal with your husband on whom I also have the goods. He stays away from Paul and pays his bills, and I keep my mouth shut. I’m offering you an even better deal. You stay away from him and I keep my mouth shut. You don’t even have to pay any money.“
”What goods have you got on him?“
”Zero in on the important stuff, babe.“
”Well, what?“
”That’s not your problem. Your problem is whether you do what I ask or I start blabbing to the like of Disco Darling down the hall.“
”Don’t call him that. His name is Stephen,“ she said.
”Will you stay away from the kid?“
”My own son?“
”That’s him, you’ve got the right one. Will you?
