'Do you know he's the one that did the murders?'
'Or ordered them,' I said. 'No. Unless Lee knows something I don't know, we don't know he's guilty. But it's a good guess.'
'Because?'
'Because,' Farrell said, 'if there's something bad going on and Haskell Wechsler is connected to it…' He shrugged.
'Haskell is a really genuinely bad man,' I said.
'So you're both willing to let these two hoodlums, who assaulted us'-Susan was frowning-'you're willing to risk letting them slide in order to maybe get this Wechsler person for something worse.'
'I'd trade those two jerks for Haskell Wechsler anytime,' I said.
She looked at Farrell. He nodded. Susan looked back at me and wrinkled her nose.
'Not a very fragrant business,' Susan said.
'Not very fragrant at all,' I said.
chapter thirty-eight
HAWK AND I were shooting at an indoor range in Dorchester. I had three handguns, my everyday short S&W.38, the.357 I used for big game, and the Browning nine which I kept for those exciting times when five or six shots just aren't enough. Hawk had a long-barreled.44 Magnum which will, probably, bring down a crazed bull elephant. Since you rarely run into a bull elephant in Boston, I always suspected Hawk carried it for effect. We shot for an hour or so and kept score. A small group gathered to watch. Side bets were made, the bettors tending to divide along racial lines. When we got through, both of us claimed victory. Eventually we settled for a draw.
In the parking lot Hawk said, 'Maybe the numbers the same but my groupings were tighter.'
'Shooting with that blunderbuss, for crissake, you shouldn't even have a grouping. You ought to put one round right on top of another.'
'Groupings still tighter,' Hawk said.
'If we'd both been shooting at a live target, either one of us would have killed him,' I said.
'Sure,' Hawk said.
He didn't say anything else until we were in his Jag heading downtown on Blue Hill Avenue.
'I'd a killed him deader,' Hawk said softly.
'Sure you would have,' I said.
The quality of mercy is not strained. Hawk smiled to himself as we followed Blue Hill Avenue past Magazine Street.
'Haskell made a run at me last night,' I said.
'Who he sent?'
'Buster and the little gunnie that was with him in the restaurant. Buster was supposed to give me a beating while the gunnie stood guard.'
'Appear that they unsuccessful,' Hawk said.
'Yeah,' I said. 'Susan whacked the gunnie with a brick.'
A small muscle moved at the corner of Hawk's mouth. We drove past Melina Cass Boulevard and turned onto Mass Ave. It was late, after eleven, and as always, the city at night was different from the city in daylight. The mercury street lamps and bright traffic lights and fluorescent neon made it seem more romantic than I knew it was. And the dark sky pressing down on it made it seem smaller, safer, and more contained than I knew it was.
'She all right?' Hawk said.
'Yes.'
We passed City Hospital, which sprawled farther along Albany Street every time I saw it.
'Outta line,' Hawk said, 'with Susan present.'
'Against the rules.'
'We planning on speaking with Haskell?'
'He got an office on Market Street,' Hawk said. 'In Brighton.'
'I know. Lot of people got something to settle with Haskell. There's usually a lot of firepower hanging around.'
'Could call Vinnie,' Hawk said. ''Cept for me, he's the best shooter in the city.'
'Or maybe we can discuss this with him when he's not surrounded by the palace guard,' I said.
'Which would be when?'
'Ah, there's the rub,' I said.
'He must get laid,' Hawk said.
'Haskell?' I said. 'Who the hell would come across for Haskell.'
