'He got a wife?' Hawk said.
'Same answer as above,' I said.
'Yeah, you probably right. Probably buys it.'
'A professional woman,' I said.
I nodded. We both thought about that as we passed through the South End and crossed Huntington Avenue near Symphony Hall.
'Who runs the whores in this city,' I said to Hawk.
'Tony Marcus,' Hawk said.
'Right. He out yet?'
'Been out a year or so,' Hawk said.
'Maybe he can help us out.'
'Sure,' Hawk said. 'He been dying to ever since you put him in jail.'
'You're a brother,' I said. 'You'll convince him.'
'I believe I helped put him in jail.'
'Well, maybe.'
'And as they taking him off, I believe he say I a honkie sucking mother fucker.'
'Yep.'
'I'm sure Tony didn't mean anything personal,' I said.
'When you want to see him?' Hawk said.
'He still in the South End?'
'Same place,' Hawk said. 'Backroom of Buddy's Fox.'
'I'll bet he's a night person too,' I said. 'Let's go see him now.'
Hawk glanced at me and shook his head, and made a right turn on Boylston Street.
'Lucky I'm brave,' he said.
chapter thirty-nine
WE PARKED AT a hydrant near Buddy's Fox and went in. It was still long and narrow. There were still booths along both walls with a bar across the back. Tony Marcus still kept his office down the hall to the right of the bar past the rest rooms. There were people of several races eating ribs and brisket. The black bartender was new since the last time I'd been here. He was slope-shouldered and strong-looking with long arms and big hands. When we got close I could see that his nose was flat and the skin around his eyes was scar thickened. He had on a starched white shirt with the banded collar open and his cuffs rolled up over his forearms.
'What can I get you gentlemen,' he said.
'I'd like you to go back and tell Tony that Hawk is here to see him.'
'You're Hawk?' the bartender said.
'I'm Hawk.'
'Who's this?' The bartender nodded at me.
'Tonto,' Hawk said.
The bartender nodded without smiling.
'Sure,' he said.
He went to the end of the bar, flipped up the gate, and disappeared down the hall.
'Ever eat here?' I said.
'Sure,' Hawk said. 'Do some nice turnip greens.'
The bartender came back. Hawk unbuttoned his jacket.
'Tony says have a drink on the house. Says he'll be out in a few minutes.'
'Beer,' Hawk said.
I nodded. The bartender pulled two draft beers. We leaned on the bar and sipped the beer. About halfway through the beer three black men came in together and sat in a booth near the door. None of them looked at us.
'Tall skinny kid with slick hair? Came in with the other two brothers? Name is Ty-Bop Tatum. He's Tony's shooter.'
'Ty-Bop?' I said.
'What happens when you got thirteen-year-old girls naming babies,' Hawk said.
'Think they just happened to stop by here for a helping of hush puppies.'
'Sure,' Hawk said.
