'Well, I know you're looking into the death of Trent Rowley, poor bastard, he was a good man, and I thought well, hell, might make sense to talk face-to-face, you know? One working stiff to another, see if we can get somewhere.'
'One working stiff to another, Coop?' He grinned.
'Yeah, yeah. There's probably more bullshit and folderol around my job, but we're both trying to make an honest living.'
'Just a couple a working stiffs,' I said.
He grinned again. It was a really good grin.
'You actually think somebody in the shop killed Trent?'
'I don't know who killed Trent,' I said. 'But it had to be somebody that could come and go in the shop without any problem.'
The waitress came back with our food. My sandwich had a small heap of French fries with it. I ate one. Shame to waste them.
'Damn,' Cooper said. 'You got that right, don't you. There's no way in hell to get around it.'
My club sandwich was cut in triangular quarters. I took a small dignified bite from one of them. It seemed bad strategy to get it all over my shirtfront.
''Course most of the wives know their way around there,' he said.
'You think somebody's wife shot Rowley?'
'Hell, I don't know. That's your department. I'm just thinking out loud.'
'Any other candidates?' I said. 'Besides employees and wives?'
'Oh, hell yes,' Cooper said. He ate very rapidly.
'We got vendors, coming and going. We got customers. Government people, you know, Interior, Commerce, SEC, Energy, State Department.'
'State?' I said.
'Yes, we are a very large presence on the international energy scene, we do a lot of business with foreign governments.'
'Gee,' I said.
'Spenser,' he said, 'I gotta tell you, we are one hell of a company. We really are.'
He was almost finished with his salad. I had three-quarters still to go on my club sandwich. I was betting Coop wasn't the kind of guy that was going to sit around while I finished. He took his last bite of salad. He looked at his watch.
'Goddamn,' he said. 'I'm already running late on the afternoon.'
I knew I should have bet myself money.
'I wanted to get a look at you,' he said. 'And I'm glad I did. I like what I see.'
I smiled modestly.
'Tell you what,' Cooper said. 'We're having a corporate retreat this weekend, down on the Cape, Chatham Bars Inn. We got the whole place. Informal. Give us all a chance to kick back and get to know each other in a relaxed way, you know, out of the office, away from the phone. We tear up the place pretty good.'
I nodded and picked up the second quarter of my club sandwich.
'I was hoping you might join us, as my guest, of course. Get to know all the management people, might help you learn a little about us, and even if it doesn't . . .'
Cooper grinned and winked at me. 'Hell, it's a good time. You married?'
'Sort of,' I said.
'Well, bring your sort-of wife along too.'
'Actually,' I said, 'I don't bring her anywhere. But she might like to come.'
'I'll have Delia send you the details,' Cooper said. 'She'll reserve a room for you.'
'Sure,' I said.
He looked at his watch again.
'Gee, look,' he said. 'I'm sorry. I just have to run.'
'Un-huh,' I said.
'I hope you don't mind.'
'I'm a working stiff myself,' I said. 'I know how it is.'
There was just a flicker on Cooper's face for a moment. Was I kidding him? No, of course not. Bob Cooper? No, couldn't be.
'Well, I look forward to seeing you in Chatham,' he said and put out his hand. 'I'll buy you a drink.'
He grinned again and winked again. 'Maybe several,' he said.
