'Can you let me know?' I said.
'As quick as you did,' Healy said.
I gave him my big charming smile. 'Better late than never,' I said.
'Yeah,' Healy said, 'sure.'
My big charming smile generally worked better with women.
'What's Gavin have to say about it?'
'Denies everything.'
'And he paid them cash.'
'Yep.'
'So the only way we know he hired them to do the tail job is because they told you.'
'Yep.'
'And now you can't find them.'
'So far,' I said.
'So unless we find them we have no evidence that Gavin did anything except what you say they told you.'
'Exactly,' I said.
'We know how much that's worth,' Healy said.
'Sadly, yes,' I said.
'Hell, even if it was worth anything it doesn't prove it was Gavin; there's a lot of blond guys with mustaches.'
'I know,' I said. 'It would have to be an ID by O'Neill or Francis.'
'Which we can't get if we can't find them.'
Healy and I both took a bite of donut and looked at each other while we chewed.
When he was through chewing, Healy swallowed and said, 'Might be we won't find them.'
'That occurred to me,' I said.
'Still, we got Gavin,' Healy said.
'For what?'
'For looking into,' Healy said.
'It's a start,' I said.
27
Susan was wearing white pants that fit well, and a top with horizontal blue and white stripes and a wide scoopy neck which revealed the fact that she had the best-looking trapezius muscles of any woman in the world. I was nearly as dashing, though flaunting it less, in jeans and sneakers and a black tee shirt. I was carrying a gun so I wore the tee shirt not tucked in. We were sitting in the lobby at the Chatham Bars Inn amid a maelstrom of yuppies, mostly male, in bright Lacoste shirts, maroon and green predominating, pressed khakis, and moccasins, mostly cognac-colored, no socks. The women followed the same color scheme, the khaki varying among slacks, skirts, and shorts, depending, Susan and I agreed, on how they felt about their legs. Bob Cooper moved among them, wearing a starched white button-down shirt, top two buttons open, black linen trousers, and black Italian loafers: the patriarch, his gray head visible among the acolytes, laughing, squeezing shoulders, hugging an occasional woman, accepting obeisance. Gavin moved always near Cooper, wearing one of those white nipped long-waisted shirts that Cubans wear in Miami. Bernie Eisen was there, drinking mai tais. I saw no sign of Ellen.
The chatter was continuous and loud. It was the first day of the retreat, cocktail time, and everyone was taking full advantage. The company had rented the whole place. Everyone there was from Kinergy, except me and Susan.
'Breathtaking,' Susan said, 'isn't it.'
'Think of the pressure,' I said. 'Do I look like a winner? Am I dressed right? Am I talking to the right people? Have I signed up for the right activities? What if I've signed up for sailing and it turns out that only losers sign up for sailing?'
'You can smell the fear,' Susan said. 'And the greed.'
'That too,' I said.
'We have penetrated to the heart,' Susan said, 'of corporate America.'
'Have you noticed that Cooper is the tallest guy in the room?' I said.
'He is a tall man.'
'He's not much taller than I am.'
'So you would be the second tallest?' Susan said.
'You think it is an accident that no member of Kinergy management is as tall as the CEO?' I said.
