'But I'm strong,' she said after a couple of sobs. 'I don't need anyone.'
She was quiet for a time while she got her crying under control. I offered her a Kleenex from my bottom desk drawer. She took it and dabbed at her eyes. She looked straight at me.
'I'm sorry, but being a widow is very difficult.'
'You okay now?'
'In a manner of speaking,' she said sadly.
'You have any thoughts on who might have had you followed?' I said.
She stood and stared at me, horrified.
'You go right back to questioning me, you bastard,' she said. 'You heartless bastard.'
She turned and left. I went to my window and stood looking out at Berkeley Street, thinking about courtly love, and the Provencal poets. In a minute she appeared on the sidewalk, and turned right to Boylston, walking purposefully, and right again, onto Boylston and out of sight.
24
The message on my answering machine was from a woman with a prestigious British accent. She said her name was Delia, that she was calling from Kinergy on behalf of Bob Cooper, and that Bob would very much like to meet me for lunch at his club.
The CEO. Hot dog!
Cooper's club was on the top floor of a tall odd-looking building on Franklin Street. I had to sign in and get a pass before I could go in the elevator. Then I had to show my pass and give my name to the reception desk in the sky lobby, before I could take a second elevator to the Standish Club. A dignified woman in a dark suit met me at the elevator.
'Mr. Cooper hasn't arrived yet,' she said. 'His secretary called to say that he'd be a few minutes late.'
O f course he'd be a few minutes late.
'Do you wish to be seated?' the woman said. 'Or do you prefer to wait at the bar?'
O nly a loser was caught sitting alone at a table waiting for someone.
'Seated,' I said.
I t did me no harm to be thought a loser. Might even do me some good. She took me to a table by the window, took my order for beer, and left me to admire the water views. Boston being what it was there weren't many high floors downtown where you couldn't see the water. But the Standish Club had made the most of it. There were two floor-to-ceiling window walls facing the water, and the light poured through them and the room gleamed. Near the center of the room was a circular bar with four people trying not to look like losers as they sipped cocktails and waited. They were all men. They all wore business suits. They all wore white shirts. Two had blue ties, one had a red tie. One had yellow. Three had short, but not too short, recent, but not too recent haircuts. The other guy had shoulder-length black hair. He was also the one with the yellow tie. Probably worked in advertising.
I was two swallows into my first beer when Cooper showed up. He walked into the dining room like he was taking a curtain call. He was a big man with a square jaw and bright blue eyes. He wore a light gray summer-weight suit, with a white shirt and a powder blue satin tie. His hair was iron gray and brushed back carefully over the ears. I stood when he reached the table.
'Spenser?' he said. 'Bob Cooper, thanks for coming.'
'My pleasure,' I said.
'Hope you weren't waiting long.' I looked at my watch.
'Ten minutes,' I said.
'Hell, I'm sorry. They don't give me a damned minute over there.'
'I'm sure they don't,' I said.
Without being asked, the waitress brought a tall glass of something bubbly, with an orange slice in it, and placed it in front of Cooper.
Without looking up he said, 'Thanks, Shirley.'
He picked up the glass, made a toasting gesture at me, and took a sip.
'Campari and soda,' he said. 'You ever try it?'
'I have,' I said.
'Like it?'
'No.'
Cooper laughed as if what I'd said was funny. Maybe for him hearing the word no, in any context, was the sudden perception of incongruity.
'Acquired taste,' he said. 'You hungry?'
I said I was. He agreed. We both studied the menu for a moment. Then he ordered a Caesar salad. I had a club sandwich. 'So,' I said, 'Mr. Cooper ... '
'Coop,' he said. 'Everybody calls me Coop.' I nodded.
'So what brings us together, Coop?'
