'But she did seem sort of interested in Lou.'
'Montana? The Director?'
'Yes. I don't mean to suggest anything more than it was. She seemed for a while, when he first came aboard for Handy Dandy, to be especially interested in him. They'd have coffee together, and I know she called him a lot.'
The day outside was cold enough to awaken the thermostat. I could hear the steam heat tingling in the pipes, still unwieldy from summer dormancy.
'What about him?' I said.
Christopholous smiled and shook his head.
'Ah, Lou,' he said.
'Life is imperfect. One must make do. Most of Lou's experience is in television.'
'Ugh!' I said.
'Ugh, indeed,' Christopholous said.
'And worse, Lou is petty and pompous, and half as good as he thinks he is. But he can pull a play together. And at least while he is with us he appears to be committed to the company and to the rationale of the Theater Company. One cannot always hire the best Director. One must hire one who is willing to work for what one can pay.'
'It is ever thus,' I said, just to be saying something.
Christopholous shook his head.
'Not necessarily,' he said.
'In my experience, the actors are a bit different. Here we almost always get actors who care about the craft, about the art, if you will. It is in many ways a terrible profession. Sticking to it in the face of all the reasons to quit takes dedication and toughness. For most of them, the payoff is performing. The really good ones can always give a good performance despite the playwright or the Director, even in television or a dreadful movie.'
'Olivier,' I said.
'Yes, or Michael Caine.'
'So, it's a kind of autonomy,' I said.
'If they're good enough and tough enough,' Christopholous said.
'Interesting that you understand that so quickly; most people don't.'
'I like autonomy,' I said.
'I'm not surprised.'
'Did Montana reciprocate any of Jocelyn's affection?'
'I'm not sure 'reciprocate' is the right word. He might have exploited it briefly.'
'I've heard of that being done,' I said.
'I wouldn't make too much of this,' Christopholous said.
'Jocelyn has her crushes, and they are as changeable as April weather.'
'You know of any connection between her and the Wus?'
'The Wus? God, Spenser, you move too fast for me. Why would she have any connection with the Wus?'
'Why indeed,' I said.
'Of course she knows Rikki. I want my company to shmooze the board members. It's part of the job.'
'And one they savor,' I said.
Christopholous shrugged.
'You have a goose laying a golden egg, you feed it,' he said.
'Rikki in particular enjoys being shmoozed.'
'How about Mr. Wu?'
'He indulges her,' Christopholous said.
'That's really all I know about him. He comes very rarely to an event with her.
When he does come he seems quite remote. But he seems willing to underwrite her without limit.'
'He ever meet Jocelyn?'
'Oh, I wouldn't think so. Beyond a formal 'this-is-my-husband-Lonnie' kind of meeting. And if he had that, I'm sure he wouldn't register her. He never seems to be in the moment when he's here.'
'I know the feeling,' I said.
Through Christopholous' window I could see the rows of three story clapboard houses, flat-roofed, mostly gray, mostly needing paint, with piazzas on the back. The piazzas were mostly devoid of furniture, except occasionally a dejected folding chair kept up the pretense. They seemed to be the place where people kept their trash. Clotheslines stretched across barren backyards at all three levels, but no clothes hung on them in the unyielding
