“Okay meaning you’ll do it?”
“Yep.”
Nevins seemed mildly puzzled.
“Like that?”
“Yep.”
“Aren’t you going to ask if I’m gay?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t care.”
“But,” Nevins frowned, “it might be germane.”
“If it is, I’ll ask,” I said.
Nevins opened his mouth and closed it and sat back in his chair. Then he took a green-covered checkbook out of his inside coat pocket.
“What will you need for a retainer?”
“No need for a retainer,” I said.
“Oh, but I insist. I don’t want favors.”
Hawk was looking out the window at the slush accumulating around the stylishly booted ankles of the young women leaving the insurance companies on their way to lunch.
Without turning around he said, “He doing me the favor, Robinson.”
Nevins was not slow. He looked once at Hawk, and back at me, and nodded to himself. He put the green checkbook back inside his coat and stood.
“Do you need anything else right now?” he said.
“No. I’ll poke around at it, see what develops.”
“And I’ll hear from you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Will you be involved, Hawk?”
Hawk turned from the window and grinned at Nevins.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll help him with the hard stuff.”
Nevins put out his hand. “I appreciate your taking this,” he said, “for whomever you’re doing the favor.”
I shook it.
“You need a ride anyplace?” he said to Hawk.
Hawk shook his head. Nevins nodded as if to confirm something in his head, and turned and left. Hawk continued to look out the window. The ball game had moved quietly into the eighth inning. Outside my window it was mostly rain now. Hawk turned away from the window and looked at me without expression.
“Tenure?” I said.
Hawk smiled.
“‘Fraid so,” he said.
CHAPTER TWO
Susan periodically undertook to make my office more homelike, and one of her most successful attempts was the relatively recent introduction of a coffeemaker, coffee canisters, and some color-coordinated mugs. Milk for the coffee then required a small refrigerator, in which I could also keep beer in case of an emergency. The refrigerator, of course, matched the mugs and the canisters and the sugar bowl and milk pitcher. The coffee filters and flatware were in a little drawer in the cabinet that I had built under her direction to hold the refrigerator. Hawk always smiled when he looked at it. Which he was doing now as he made us some coffee.
“Surprised Susan don’t have you color-coordinating your ammunition,” Hawk said.
“Well, she does sort of like the.357,” I said, “because she likes how the lead nose of the bullets contrasts with the stainless steel cylinder.”
“Tasteful in small things,” Hawk said, “tasteful in all things.”
He poured a pot full of water into the coffeemaker and turned the machine on.
“Tell me about Robinson Nevins,” I said.
“Father is Bobby Nevins,” Hawk said.
“The trainer?”
“Un huh.”
Hawk and I both watched the small trickle of coffee that Mr. Coffee was generating very slowly into the pot.
