man. You wouldn't do your work if you weren't. What makes you so attractive, among other things, is that your capacity for violence is never random, it is rarely self-indulgent, and you don't take it lightly. You make mistakes. But they are mistakes of judgment. They are not mistakes of the heart.'
'I thought you shrinks didn't talk about heart.'
'We only do it with the patients who aren't paying,' she said.
'Thank you,' I said.
'When will I see you?' Susan said.
'Maybe tomorrow night. I'll call you tomorrow.'
'Okay, take care of yourself.'
'Yes,' I said.
We hung up. I sat silently in the office for ten minutes and then got up and turned off the light and went home.
32
I made three tries at getting Warren Whitfield on the phone next morning and never getting past the administrative assistant, who remained courteous and implacable no matter how beguiling I became. Finally I sent him a telegram that read:
In regards Ginger Buckey, the Cr Prince Club, and St. Thomas, call Spenser promptly.
I added my phone number and sat back to wait. He didn't call that day. And Hawk and l spent the time considering a number of pressing issues. We discussed whether ethnicity had anything to do with sexual fervor among women. We also examined the issue of why the Red Sox kept building teams around the long ball and the short left-field fence, a practice that had won them three pennants in the last forty years. I quoted Peter Gammons, Hawk referenced Bob Ryan, all four of us agreed. We analyzed the relative merits of California champagne. I opted for Schramsberg, he for Iron Horse. We agreed that Taittinger was the class of the French though Krug and Cristal and Dom Perignon were worth a gulp. We agreed that Tapas Restaurant was the class of Porter Square, that Ray Robinson was the best fighter that ever lived (present company excluded), that Bill Russell was the most dominant basketball player, that Mel Torme could sing; we spoke well of Picasso, and Alan Ameche and the Four Seasons. We engaged in a long sexist analysis of female physiology.
At about four-thirty we turned on my answering machine and walked up the street to Grille Twenty-three and had a couple of beers at the bar. I called Susan and she said she'd meet us for supper. We had a couple more beers. The bar began to fill. The seat next to Hawk remained empty.
'You doing something,' I said, 'or is it racism?'
'Need a place for Susan,' Hawk said.
'You're looking at people when they start to sit there,' I said.
'Just a glance,' Hawk said.
Susan arrived at a quarter to seven. As she came in she didn't do anything different than anyone else, but somehow she seemed to sweep in. There probably was no hush in the place. I probably imagined it. I always felt like a hush fell when she swept into a place. Hawk moved to the empty seat beside him and Susan sat between us. She kissed Hawk, and kissed me and gave me a hug with her right arm. She ordered a White Russian and looked at Hawk.
'I love you,' she said, 'but it always makes me nervous when I see you. It means he's into something too much for him to handle alone. Which means it's really too much.'
'Maybe I into something I can't handle alone, Susan. Ever think of that?' Hawk said.
'No. Of course, it would work that way too,' she said. 'I guess I'm Spensocentric.'
'Me too,' I said, 'Want me to get us a table?'
'Not yet,' Susan said, 'unless you're starving. I'd like to sit a little and come down.'
'The crazies getting to you,' I said.
'No, not really. I love what I do. And, mostly, I love the patients. But the concentration level is so high and so sustained that I am buzzed when I get through every night.'
The bar was crowded now, people standing, mostly suits and ties after work at insurance companies. Police headquarters was right across the street but I didn't see much that looked like fuzz.
'How did you manage to save me a seat?' Susan said.
Hawk smiled. 'Luck of the draw, Susan.'
She studied him for a moment. 'Maybe,' she said.
Hawk and I finished our beer. Susan had a second White Russian. Then we went to dinner.
Grille Twenty-three occupied part of what used to be the Salada Tea Building. The building was from the era of vaulted ceilings and marble pillars, and the restaurant had made full use of the space. The dining room was separated from the bar by a railing and a couple steps down. Susan and Hawk and I sat near a display table of fresh produce and bread, which looked, somehow, better than it sounds. We got menus and Hawk took the wine list.
Susan said, 'Tell me what you are doing now. I know you're still looking for April. But why Hawk?'
Hawk was absorbed in the wine list. 'Well, there was a mystery man named Warren,' I said.
'Warren? What kind of name is Warren for a mystery man,' Susan said.
