CHAPTER 7
The guy in the raincoat followed Hawk and me to a bar on Canal Street, near the old Boston Garden.
'Marty here about every morning,' Hawk said.
The bar was called Poochie's, and through the big plate glass window in front we could see that Marty was there with a couple of other guys in suits drinking draught beer, and watching a motorcycle race on the big color television over the bar.
'Why don't you wait out here and confuse the tail,' I said.
Hawk smiled and leaned against the entrance wall. The guy in the raincoat was across the street, near the MBTA entrance, pretending to count his change.
'He'll doodle around out here for a while,' Hawk said.
'Trying to figure out if Marty'll be mad, and then he'll come in.'
'That's about right,' I said.
I walked in and sat on a bar stool next to one of Marty's companions and ordered a beer. Marty glanced at me and away, then he let his glance drift back to me out of the corner of his left eye.
The guy in the raincoat was decisive. After a minute or so, he came in and spoke to Marty, standing on the other side of Marty, whispering so I couldn't hear. Marty listened without taking his eyes off the motorcycle races.
'Okay, Dukes, beat it,' Marty said when the guy in the raincoat finished whispering.
'I'll talk to you later.'
Marty glanced casually past me at the street through the big window, then let his glance drift disinterestedly over me. I gave him a big friendly smile. He didn't smile back. Marty was a bodybuilder, and a successful one, if you judged by the way his suit didn't fit. He was clean shaven with shoulder-length blond hair and a dark tan. He had a small scar at the left corner of his mouth.
And his right eye seemed to wander off center. There was a gold earring in his left earlobe, and a very big emerald ring on his right pinky. The two guys with him were weight-room types. The one next to me had a medallion of some kind on a gold chain around his neck. On the television another motorcycle race was under way. I didn't watch. Marty and his pals did, with Marty occasionally glancing at me. I waited. Finally it was more than Marty could stand. He leaned forward and looked at me from the other side of his buddy with the medallion.
'How you doing,' he said.
He had a surprisingly high voice.
'Fine,' I said.
The beer was growing slowly flat in front of me, but ten in the morning seemed a little early. Marty kept leaning forward. His two friends were looking at me too.
'I know you?' Marty said.
'Sure you do,' I said.
'I'm your hero. You want to be just like me.'
'That a wise remark?' Marty said.
'Yeah. I'm just practicing on you, in case I meet somebody smarter.'
Marty's tan darkened, and a small nerve in his right cheek began to twitch, below the walleye. He slid off the bar stool and stepped around his associate to stand beside me.
'You come in here looking for trouble?'
'No, but your guy Dukes was tailing me. Thought I'd ask you about it.'
'My guy?'
'Guy in the raincoat. I wanted to see who sent him. And sonovagun, Marty, it was you.'
'I don't know no Dukes.'
'Sure,' I said, 'and you don't know no Spenser either, and you didn't have a guy on my tail.'
Marty took a half step back and folded his thick arms. His two friends were both turned on the bar stools toward me. I noticed the friend without the medallion sported some crude prison tattoos on his forearms. The bartender had moved as far down the bar away from us as he could and was busy slicing lemons. Marty kept his pose as he stared at me. His coat sleeves pulled tight around his upper arms. His Rolex watch gleamed at me from his left wrist.
'Chills,' I said, 'run up and down my spine.'
'Whaddya doing for Julius Ventura?' Marty said.
'Why do you want to know?' I said.
'
'Cause I'm softhearted,' Marty said.
'Give you a chance to tell me what's going on, and maybe walk out of here with your balls still swinging.'
I had a couple of killer responses to that all ready, but I didn't get to use them because Hawk came in. He stepped inside the bar and took off his sunglasses and tucked them into the side pocket of his suede-denim jacket. Then he unbuttoned the jacket and walked down the bar past where we were sitting, and leaned on the wall behind Marty and his pals. It was nice theater and also made it harder for all of them to concentrate on giving me the hard eye.
