Now and Then

birds for the price of one. They were all drinking wine, except Alderson, who had something on the rocks, probably scotch, and was sipping it as 58 if he wanted it to last. There was a lot of talk, and a lot of laughter, both of which were led by Jordan. Alderson seemed to enjoy it quietly. Shortly after seven, Jordan whispered something in Alderson’s ear. He laughed. They stood, said good-bye, and left. Vinnie and I went after them. Hawk stayed with the remaining trio.

When the evening ended, I didn’t know much more than I had before the evening started. Hawk told me that the woman in the long dress and the guy with the Greek fi sherman’s hat lived together in a second-floor apartment on Magazine Street in Cambridge. The names on the doorbell downstairs were Lyndon Holt and Sheila Schwartz. Vinnie told me that Jordan had gone straight home and stayed there.

“Not enough to crack the case,” I said.

“You wanted us to crack it?” Hawk said.

“Be nice,” I said.

“Shoulda said so before,” Hawk said. “We thought you the detective.”

“Hard to tell sometimes,” I said. “Hawk, you stay on Alderson. Vinnie, stick with Jordan.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Vinnie said.

“I’m coordinating the investigation,” I said.

“Try not to hyperventilate,” Hawk said.

15 .

Jordan richmond strode into my office right after nine a.m., her heels decisive on the oak floor. I was standing in my window bay drinking coffee and watching the career women hurrying to work along Berkeley Street. I turned when I heard her heels.

“You’re Spenser,” she said.

“Accept no other,” I said.

“Don’t be frivolous,” she said. “Did you give those tapes to my husband?”

“Those which captured the sounds of your indiscretion?” I said.

“Don’t be evasive,” she said. “Of course those tapes.”

“So he played them for you,” I said.

“Yes. Did you make them?”

“I did,” I said.

“You had no right to make them,” she said.

“But I did,” I said.

“And I may very well sue you,” she said.

“Let me know what you decide,” I said. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Don’t you realize you may have destroyed my marriage?” she said.

“Shoot the messenger,” I said.

“What? . . . Oh, you’re saying I destroyed my marriage.”

“I’d guess that depends to some extent on how you and your husband feel about monogamy,” I said.

She looked good: blue suit with a skirt that ended above the knee. High black boots, a white turtle. Her makeup was good, her hair was in place, everything was swell, except that she looked tired. Given the length and vigor of her evenings, I might have looked a little tired, too.

“I want those tapes,” she said.

“Nope.”

“All of them,” she said.

“Nope.”

“How much do you want?”

I was still in my window bay. I looked down and saw Vinnie across the street. He too was observing the career women, while he waited for Jordan to come out. He looked up at my window. He had probably guessed where she was. He saw me. I saw him. Neither of us had any reaction, but I smiled to myself.

“I asked, how much money do you want?” she said.

“I won’t sell them,” I said.

“They’re mine. You have invaded my privacy. I am determined to retrieve it.”

“Might be sort of like retrieving virginity,” I said.

“I want those tapes,” she said.

“Why?” I said. “The cat’s already out of the bag.”

She sat suddenly in one of my client chairs. It was as if her backside had collapsed and taken the rest of her with it.