He looked at me.
'You,' he said.
'Me.'
'What the fuck?' he said.
'Wanted to ask you what happened to Dawn Lopata,' I said.
'Don't know shit. Now take a walk or I'll mess you up.'
'You were in the next room when she died,' I said.
Jumbo saw me.
'Z, who you fucking talking to,' he said.
'The asshole I threw out of Wellesley,' Z said.
'So throw him off the set, too,' Jumbo said. 'And throw him off hard. I'm sick of him.'
The detail cop was up Tremont Street, dealing with the traffic disruption that the drive up had caused. It was gonna be me and Z.
Z said, 'Move it.'
He put both hands on my chest and shoved me. He was strong. I took a step back.
He took me by the lapels with both hands. Up close, he smelled of booze.
'I told you, move,' he said.
I clamped my left forearm over both his hands, which pinned them to my chest. Then in a sort of leisurely way, I brought my right arm up and back and drove my elbow into his face. He bent backward. I brought the same right hand around and hit him on the right temple with the side of my clenched fist. His knees buckled. I let his hands go and pushed him away. He stumbled back a couple of steps. His head was down, and he shook it as if things weren't in place. Then he lunged at me. I put out a straight left and he ran into it, and I followed with a right cross that put him down. He was on his hands and knees. Again, he shook his head a little and started to get up. I let him. When he was on his feet, I waited. He rocked a bit, and then came at me again with a wild right hand. I checked the punch with my left hand, blocked it with my right, and slid outside the punch. I kept hold of his arm with my right, holding him at the juncture of hand and wrist so he couldn't twist loose. I pulled him slightly forward so he was off balance and hit him with three left hooks into his exposed kidney area. He gasped. I jerked him forward hard and he went down, face-first. He stayed there for a minute and then, painfully, he started to get up. I had to give him points for tough.
'Stay down,' I said. 'You couldn't beat me sober, and you got no chance drunk.'
He got himself onto his hands and knees, almost feeling for the ground as he started to inch one leg under him.
'Z,' I said. 'So far I've just been discouraging you. You keep coming and I'm gonna have to hurt you.'
He got both feet under him, and like someone doing a clean and jerk too heavy for him, he forced himself upright and faced me. He put his hands up in front of his face as if he could box. Which he couldn't. He stuck a feeble left out at me. I leaned away from it. He followed with an aimless right cross, which I leaned away from in the other direction. He stood, then, with both hands up again, in front of his face. His eyes looked blank. Then, quite suddenly, without any visible volition, he sat down on the ground. Our dance was done.
'You fucking wimp,' Jumbo yelled at him. 'You let this fucking local keyhole sniffer kick your ass.'
Z simply sat. If he heard Jumbo, he gave no sign.
'Fucking loser,' Jumbo said. 'When you can get your sorry ass off the ground, take a goddamned hike. I don't want to see you again. You're fired.'
The detail cop came through the crowd that had gathered.
'What's going on,' he said.
'My bodyguard, ex-bodyguard, is a fucking coward, that's what,' Jumbo said.
'He's not a coward,' I said to Jumbo. 'He's hurt.'
'You put him down?' the detail cop said.
'We were sparring,' I said. 'It got out of hand.'
'My name's Ed Keohane,' the cop said. 'I know you?'
'Spenser,' I said. 'I'm a private license.'
'Yeah, I know who you are,' the cop said. 'Aren't you pals with the homicide commander?'
'Captain Quirk,' I said. 'Sort of.'
The cop bent over Z.
'You got anything to say?'
Z shook his head.
'You want to press charges or anything?'
Z shook his head.
'You need an ambulance?'
