'A strange man just approached them on the street?'
I shook my head. 'No, not quite. I called the Springfield cops, these guys have a modest reputation in what you might call paralegal circles. If you were from Boston or Worcester or Hartford and you wanted to hire a cheap small-time arm twister, the grapevine would lead you to these guys.'
'Will the two young people press charges?'
'They said they would.'
'What if these two men harm them, threaten them to make them withdraw the charge?'
'No,' I said. 'They won't. I told them not to.'
Alexander looked up from his still unsipped beer. He studied me for a minute. 'And they're afraid of you?'
'Um-hmm.'
'Well, you are physically imposing, but there must be a savagery in you that doesn't show normally.'
'Um-hmm.'
Our waitress went by, and paused, and looked at my yearning eyes and empty glass.
'Would you like another beer, sir?' she said.
I nodded and she took my stein away and brought it back full very promptly. Alexander hadn't touched his yet. How could you respect a man like that?
Alexander looked at me some more. Probably checking for hidden savagery. 'And there's no way to trace back who hired them?'
'I wouldn't say no way.' I paused, sampled the second beer. It was in no way inferior to the first. 'It could be investigated; the two sluggers could be pressed more vigorously. Maybe they'd remember more. Maybe not.'
Alexander clasped his hands together and pressed his lips against the knuckles of his thumbs.
'What I am going to tell you, Spenser, is absolutely private. It is something that you must tell no one at all. No one.'
I waited.
He looked back down at his beer some more.
'I have to confide in someone. I need help. I have to be able to trust you.'
I waited some more. He looked up at me again. Piercing. 'Can I trust you?'
'Sure,' I said. 'But the foreplay is getting tiresome.'
He kept his piercing look on me. Must have spent hours getting it right. Probably a real purse-loosener at fund- raising speeches. Then he tightened the corners of his mouth, relaxed them, and said, 'Yes. I will have to trust you. I must.'
He waited for relief to sweep over me.
Then he said, 'I'm being blackmailed. Now you see why I wondered who sent those thugs. I don't know who is doing the blackmail, but they wish me to drop out of the Senate race and throw support to my opponent.'
'Browne,' I said.
'Yes.'
'You think he may be personally involved?'
'I don't know,' Alexander said. 'Obviously he's the one to benefit if I do as I'm asked.'
I nodded.
'I don't know what to do,' Alexander said.
I nodded again.
'Do you have any thoughts on the matter?' Alexander said.
'Not yet,' I said.
We sat and looked at each other. Our waitress returned with dinner. We were silent while she set it before us, took my glass, went away, and brought it back full, and asked if we needed anything else.
Alexander said, 'No thank you,' in his Westbrook van Voorhees voice. The waitress departed. I took a bite of Wiener schnitzel. 'Yum, yum,' I said. I washed it down with a sip of beer. There were fried potatoes, and applesauce, and dark bread in a basket. I thought about the proper sequence for them. Maybe a rotating basis, a bite of schnitzel, a bite of potato, a taste of applesauce, some bread, a sip of beer. Then start over. Yes. That was the best approach, though one needn't be rigid. I had another bite of Wiener schnitzel. Drank some beer. Alexander was still looking at me. Didn't drink any beer, now he wasn't eating any sauerbraten. The man was mad.
'I will have to tell you, won't I.'
'If I'm going to help you, you probably will,' I said.
He looked down, took in a long breath, and closed his mouth and held it, and then let the breath out through his nose. He placed both hands, palms down, on the table and tapped his spread fingers once on the tabletop. Then he looked back up at me.
'It's Mrs. Alexander.'
I nodded.
'She has, I'm afraid, been indiscreet.'
I nodded some more.
'She has… they have…' His voice started to clog, and tears began to form in his eyes. He looked down again and breathed in several times, letting the breath out sharply, almost like a sprinter, trying to blow a little extra into his kick. Then he looked up again with his wet eyes and said quite steadily, 'There are pictures.'
'Oh, shit,' I said. 'I'm sorry.'
He began to rock slightly in his chair, his hands still on the tabletop. 'Videotape,' he said. His voice was choked again. 'Color.' He stood up suddenly and walked away from the table toward the men's room. I sat and stared at the food. I didn't feel so much like eating anymore either.
The waitress came over and said, 'Is anything wrong, sir?'
'Not with the meal,' I said, 'but my friend is ill. I think we'd better have the check.'
'Yes, sir,' she said. 'I'm very sorry.'
She was prompt with the check. I paid it. She went away and brought back the change. I tipped her.
'Thank you, sir,' she said. 'I hope that your friend feels better soon.'
I shrugged. 'The ways of the Lord,' I said, 'are often dark, but never pleasant.'
She frowned slightly, and took her tip and went away.
Chapter 7
When Alexander came out of the men's room he looked very pale but his eyes were dry for the moment and he seemed back under control.
I said, 'Let's take a walk.'
He nodded. We walked up Fort Street. It was dark out and rainy now, but not very cold. I had on my leather trench coat and Alexander was wearing a poplin raincoat. The rain was light and not bothersome. Under other circumstances, in fact, it would have been good rain to walk in. Romantic. There were construction and demolition projects all around the lower Main Street area. Silent construction equipment gleamed in the rain, but not many people walked around. We turned up Main Street toward the Civic Center. Alexander had his hands in his pockets, his head bent, looking at the sidewalk as he walked. He wore a checked hat like Bear Bryant.
I said, 'This is awful. I understand that. But I didn't bring it up. If I'm going to help you with this, we have to talk about it.'
Alexander said, 'I know.'
We passed Bay State West. There were a lot of people in the mall buying things. Recreational shopping.
I said, 'I can fix this for you. Not all of it. Not what it feels like, but the other part. I can take care of the blackmail.'
Alexander nodded. We passed Johnson's, its facade a dark green, the name in gold letters. A municipal bus stopped, let some people off, and moved on downtown.
'It was mailed to my home,' Alexander said. 'In Fitchburg. A videotape. VHS format. No return address, Boston postmark.' We turned into Court Square, walking past the City Hall complex with its tower. There was a small park in the middle of the square. I was quiet. He had started. I knew he'd finish.
