'Boots isn't much of a civilizing influence,' I said. 'Mayor is just the official title. Actually, he's the owner.'
'Eighty thousand,' Hawk said.
'Yep.'
'How many white?'
'Boots and his management team,' I said. 'And a small immigrant Ukrainian population.'
'Rest of the plantation?'
'African and Hispanic,' I said.
'How Boots pull that off?' Hawk said.
'Marshport used to be mostly middle European. Boots is a holdover.'
'What kind of name is that?' Hawk said. 'Marshport?'
He flattened the a and dropped the r 's in parody of the local accent.
I said, 'Named after some prominent family, I think.'
'Why you suppose Boots hiring lawyers for Ukrainians?' Hawk said.
'Podolak might be Ukrainian,' I said.
'Or Polish,' Hawk said.
'Didn't parts of Ukraine used to be Polish?' I said. 'Or vice versa?'
'You asking me?' Hawk said. 'You the one sleeping with a Harvard grad.'
'And Cecile?' I said.
'The med school,' Hawk said. 'They just know 'bout corpuscles and shit. Susan got a damn Ph.D.'
'You seen Cecile lately?' I said.
'Yes,' Hawk said.
We were waiting now for the elevator down to our parking level. There were things you pressed Hawk on, and things you didn't. They didn't belong to categories. One had to sense subtleties of tone and posture to know which was which. Cecile was a no press.
'Maybe Boots is in on it with the Ukrainians,' I said. 'Moving in on Tony.'
'Expand the plantation?' Hawk said.
I shrugged.
'Think it be more like the other way around, wouldn't you,' Hawk said.
'Tony moving in on a black city?'
'Un-huh.'
'You would think that,' I said.
' 'Cept far as we can tell it ain't so.'
'Far as we can tell,' I said.
'You know Boots?' Hawk said when we were in his car.
'Yes.'
'He remember you?'
'He would,' I said.
'Fondly?' Hawk said.
'No,' I said.
'You know where we can find him?' Hawk said.
'Yep.'
'Then let's go see him.'
'Okay,' I said.
Hawk pulled onto the last block of Boylston Street.
'Think we can get there from here?'
'Just barely,' I said.
16
MARSHPORT CITY HALLwas one of those handsome, ornate civic buildings that people built in the nineteenth century out of brownstone and brick. It had the affluent, satisfied look of the upper middle class it was built for and was probably the best-looking thing in the city… except for me and Hawk, and we were only temporary. Inside was a lot of curving staircase, and dark wood, and heavy oil paintings of the city's ancestry, who for all I knew could
