'Must be a design flaw,' Susan said.
'Well, I certainly wouldn't have bought it if I'd known it was a second,' I said.
'The thought of you in Victoria's Secret is heart warming, though,' Susan said.
'I blushed,' I said.
'Good to know you can,' Susan said and got up and started putting on her makeup. I cleaned up breakfast and went to shower and shave.
Two hours later, with the johnny cake still sticking to my ribs; I fell into step across the Taft Quadrangle with Dwayne Woodcock. At six feet nine and 255 pounds Dwayne was the premier power forward in the country; he was also probably the number one pick in the NBA draft next year, and, according to the papers, a fair head case. Most men his size played center in college and switched to forward in the pros.
The Taft center in fact was six foot seven, but Dwayne had made that condition when he came to Taft. He would be the power forward, giving him a four-year start on his pro position. Walking beside him was walking in the shade. 'Dwayne Woodcock?' I said.
He looked down at me silently and, after a moment, nodded.
'My name is Spenser. I need to talk with you for a moment.'
'Know who you are, man.'
'You on your way to class?'
Woodcock smiled and shook his head. 'Breakfast.'
'Good, mind if I join you?'
'Coach says I ain't supposed to talk with you,' Dwayne said. There was no apology in his voice, or embarrassment. He was just reporting a fact to me.
'You always do what Coach says?'
'Don't do what nobody says, man. Do what Dwayne Woodcock says.' Again the smile, genuine, but not friendly, condescending, as if to say he would overlook the fact that I was a short old white guy. It was probably hard not to seem condescending if you were Dwayne's size. You looked down from above the everyday world.
'So what does Dwayne Woodcock say about having breakfast with me?' I said.
'Free country, man, you want to walk along, okay with me.'
As we walked across the campus a hundred people said hello to Dwayne. He was friendly but regal.
'So what you want to talk about, man?'
'Didn't Coach tell you?'
Dwayne smiled again. 'Naw. Coach don't do a lot of telling. He just say stay the fuck away from you and not to talk with you.'
'What happens if you do talk with me?'
'Me? Nothing.'
'How about somebody else?' I said.
''My way or highway,' Coach always say.'
'How come nothing happens to you?'
'Man, don't you know nothing? Coach wants that final four so bad, he eat shit to get there. I don't play, he don't get it.'
'Well, I'm a detective and the University has hired me to see if there's any truth to the rumors of point shaving.'
Dwayne frowned down at me.
'You what?' he said. And I realized I'd gone too fast for him.
'I'm a private detective,' I said. I'd feed it to him in small bits.
'Like fucking Magnum, PI?'
'Just like him, except I do it in Boston.'
'What kind of wheels you got, man?'
'I'm driving a jeep for the winter,' I said.
'Love that four by four.'
I also drove it in the spring and summer and fall and would drive it for a number of seasons to come.
'You carrying, man?'
'Sure.' I opened my coat to let him see the Browning. 'The University hired me.'
'The University,' Dwayne said. 'This place? You working for this place?'
'Un huh. They heard that there was point shaving going on.'
'Point shaving? They hired you to investigate fucking point shaving?'
