'Yes. His kid worked for Esteva and when things weren't happening I followed him.'
Across the intersection of Brattle and Mass. Avenue the out-of-town newsstand was still open and still busy. We turned up Mass. Ave.
'He picked up a load of coke in Maine and you hijacked it,' Susan said.
'Yes.'
'And you went to ask him about it.'
'Yes, and he pulled a gun on me,' I said. 'And his mother took it away from him. It was a forty-one Navy Colt. The same caliber that killed his father.'
'Umph,' Susan said.
'And I asked him where he got it and he wouldn't tell and we pressed him and he said Esteva gave it to him.'
'And sometimes you save them.' Susan had turned full toward me and was holding both my hands.
'A little like your business,' I said.
Susan nodded. 'A little.'
'I involved that kid,' I said.
'No,' Susan said. 'He involved himself.'
'I should have figured he'd tell Esteva,' I said.
Susan stood so close to me that we touched from knee to chest. She pressed my hands in hers against her, just below her hips.
'Probably,' she said. 'Probably you should have. You made a mistake. You'll make more before you're through. But you make fewer than most people I know. And no one makes them in better causes.'
'This mistake was mortal,' I said.
'Your work is mortal, your mistakes will be too.'
'Yeah,' I said.
'Yeah,' Susan said. 'And the mortal parts of it are what makes it work you'll do. It's what makes it matter. If it didn't have mortal consequences it would bore you.'
'I don't like to see people die,' I said.
'And you've saved some,' Susan said. I nodded. 'You're the one who said it to me.'
''What?'
'Death is the mother of beauty.'
'I didn't think you were listening,' I said, and took my hands from hers and slid them up her back and held her against me in the cold night under the bright artificial light on the empty street.
Chapter 24
We were in Susan's living room having a cup of hot chocolate. There was a fire. We sat beside each other on the couch with our feet on the coffee table.
'Have you spoken to Hawk?' Susan said.
'Not yet,' I said.
'When will you?'
'Soon,' I said.
Susan turned her head and looked at me. 'Aren't you stubborn,' she said.
'But exciting sexually,' I said.
'Sometimes,' Susan said. 'Are you planning to go this alone no matter what, just to prove you can?'
'No,' I said. 'I'm going to ask you for help.' Susan raised her eyebrows.
'Caroline Rogers is going to need help. There are two other women involved in all of this in ways I don't understand, and I'm going to need help with them.'
'And you want me to cancel my appointments and trek out to Wheaton?'
'Well put,' I said.
'There are people here who need help,' Susan said. 'Some of them need it very much.'
'I know,' I said.
We both drank some cocoa.
'Tell me about the other women,' Susan said.
'Juanita Olmo is a social worker who knew Eric Valdez,' I said.
'The reporter who was murdered to start with,' Susan said.
'Yes. She told me that Emmy Esteva was having an affair with Valdez.'
