Authors: Robert B. Parker
Alexander said to Ronni, ”Why don’t you have the game hen with peppercorns?“
Ronni swallowed some bourbon and nodded.
Alexander said to the waiter, ”The lady will have the game hen with green peppercorns.“
”Very good, sir. Would you care to order wine?“
Alexander said, ”No, I don’t think…“
Ronni said, ”Oh, come on, Meade. Dinner without wine is like a kiss without a squeeze.“
Alexander nodded at the waiter. He produced a wine list and handed it to Alexander. Alexander glanced through it and ordered a good California Pinot Noir. The waiter went to get it.
Ronni began to hum along with the harpist.
Alexander looked at me, finished his martini, put it down, and said, ”So what is it you are not cynical about? What do you believe in?“
”Love,“ I said. ”I believe in love-Alfie.“
Alexander’s face was serious as he looked at me. Ronni’s humming was a little louder. The harpist was playing something classical that I didn’t know. Obviously Ronni didn’t know it either, but she wasn’t discouraged. She swayed slightly with the music as she hummed.
Alexander kept his gaze fixed on me. ”I do too,“ he said.
Alexander was working a luncheon reception at the Marriott Hotel in Springfield. The crowd was stretch-fabricked and hair-sprayed and there were hors d’oeuvres and a cash bar. The hors d’oeuvres ran to bologna and cream cheese whirls, salami and cheese cubes on a stick, chicken livers and bacon. You could almost hear the arteries clogging as Alexander’s supporters wolfed them down.
At one end of the room Meade and Ronni were in an informal reception line, shaking hands, smiling, cursing big government, and praising God. A young man and woman who looked like college kids stopped to talk with him. The boy had a mouse under his right eye. From where I was I couldn’t hear them, but I saw Ronni’s breath go in sharply, and I saw Alexander frown. He nodded then raised his eyes and looked around the room until he saw me. He gestured me toward him.
As I moved toward him through the crowd, a middle-aged man in plaid slacks said, ”You can’t just keep giving it away to people who won’t work…“A woman in a bouffant hairdo and blue-rimmed eyeglasses said, ”… Darwinism simply does not have the data to support…“
Ronni smiled at me brightly. Meade said, ”Spenser, these two young people have a rather disturbing story to tell. I wonder if you could find a quiet corner and talk with them.“ He glanced at the two kids. ”This is Mr. Spenser, our Chief of Security.“ I tried to look modest. ”This is, ah…“
”John,“ the boy said. ”John Taylor. This is my fiancee, Melanie Walsh.“
I said, ”How do you do,“ and took them to a sort of pantry off the reception room, where glassware and china and things were stored. I leaned against a stack of folded chairs and crossed my arms and said, ”What’s up?“
The kids looked at each other, then John said, ”We’re students. AIC. I’m a junior and Melanie’s a sophomore. We were handing out literature yesterday for Mr. Alexander down by the Civic Center when a couple of men came along and told us to beat it.“
I nodded.
”I said we were not doing anything illegal and what right had they to tell us to beat it. They just sort of laughed and then one of them knocked the bunch of flyers-Melanie had a bunch of Alexander flyers and we were handing them around, you know?“
I nodded.
”Anyway, one of them knocked the flyers out of Melanie’s hand onto the ground and the wind blew them around and then I said something and the other one hit me and knocked me down.“
”Johnny told them to leave me alone,“ Melanie said. ”And they hit him before he was even ready and all his flyers blew around.“
”And they said if she showed up there again, they’d do a lot worse.“
”They tell you why they did that?“ I said.
”No.“
”Would you know them again?“
”Oh, yes. But they said if we told the police, they’d find us…“
I nodded. ”Don’t they always,“ I said.
John said, ”I don’t know, sir.“ Except for the mouse, he looked like a choirboy. Maybe a couple years older than Paul Giacomin.
”You folks born again?“
”Yes, sir. I accepted Jesus Christ four years ago. And Melanie found him this past year.“
”How old were these guys?“
John looked at Melanie. Melanie said, ”They were men, you know. Grown up. Thirty, forty years old.“
John said, ”They called Melanie a name.“
”Don’t they always,“ I said. Actually Melanie looked more like Dolly Parton than Aimee Semple McPherson, but the soul wears various vestments. ”You have a right to pass stuff out down there without getting molested,“ I said. ”If you’re willing to try it again, I’ll go with you and if the two gentlemen show up, I will reason with them.“
”There’re two of them,“ Melanie said.
”I know. It’s not fair,“ I said. ”But maybe they’ll bring a couple of friends and even things up.“
They both looked puzzled.
”Look,“ I said. ”I’m really good at this kind of thing. I can handle it fine. If you’re willing, we’ll get right to it. If they show up, I can surely persuade them of their sinfulness.“
”I don’t like them saying that about Melanie,“ John said. ”But they were too big for me.“
Melanie said, ”I’ll go.“
I said, ”Good,“ and went to check out with Cambell and Fraser. And Alexander.
”I’m not sure this falls under security, Spenser.“
”Security includes intelligence, Mr. Alexander. I think this needs looking into. Tommy and Dale will cover it here. It’s just up the street. I’ll be back in an hour.“
Cambell walked toward the door with me. ”You sure you want to handle two of them by yourself?“
I nodded toward the ceiling. ”Somebody up there likes me,“ I said.
”No need to make fun of us, Spenser,“ Cambell said. ”It’s serious for us.“
”That’s what you and Fraser are doing here,“ I said.
Cambell nodded. ”Jesus is important in our lives. Because you don’t understand it, no need to put it down.“
I nodded. ”I make fun of everything, Tommy,“ I said. ”Even myself. No harm intended.“
Cambell nodded again. ”We could leave Dale here and I could drift down with you to the Civic Center,“ he said. ”I hate to see a couple of kids get shoved around, myself.“
”Me too,“ I said. ”Next time it’s your turn.“ We picked up some folders that had a picture of Meade and Ronni Alexander smiling on the cover. Then we left the Marriott and headed up Main Street.
Downtown Springfield was on the way back from hard times. The hotel was in a new complex called Bay State West that included stores and restaurants and walkways across Main Street to Steiger’s and across Vernon Street to Forbes and Wallace. Up and down Main Street there were other buildings going up, but the marks of poverty and suburban shopping malls still scarred the older buildings. They stood, many empty, waiting for the wrecker’s ball. The fate that they were born for.
On the corner of Court Street we stood with our backs toward the municipal complex and looked at the Civic Center. It seemed to be made of poured concrete curtains, with the square look that had been hot when it was built in the first flush of urban rescue. It fronted on Main Street. East Court Street ran alongside it to our left and a set of concrete steps went up to a landing from which an enclosed walkway stretched across East Court to the third level of a parking garage.
”We were handing stuff out there on the side, near the stairs,“ Melanie said.
”Okay,“ I said. ”I’ll go over in the garage. You start handing stuff out near the stairs and if these guys show up, you start retreating up the stairs and across to the garage. I’ll be in the garage. Don’t be worried. I can see you all the time.“
They both nodded. John was having a little trouble swallowing. There was more pressure on him than there was on Melanie. He had a certain amount of manhood at stake. Or he thought he did.
”Don’t do anything silly,“ I said to John. ”I know you’re mad, and I know you feel compromised that they pushed you and Melanie around. But you’re not a big kid, and I am.“
”Yesterday there were two of them and one of me,“ he said. ”Today we’re even.“
His face was very serious. He had a short haircut, parted on the left. He wore a red plaid shirt with a buttondown collar, chino pants, rust-colored deck shoes with crepe soles, and a tan parka with a forest-green lining. He probably weighed 155 pounds. He was probably an accounting major.
”Yeah,“ I said. ”What are you majoring in?“
He looked surprised. ”Finance,“ he said.
Close.
Melanie had on a black watch plaid jumper and a beige sweater, a full-length camel’s hair coat, and black boots. She looked at John and said, ”Don’t be foolish, Johnny. I don’t want you to get hurt.“
”You can’t just lie down and take it,“ he said.
”We won’t,“ I said. ”Let’s get to it.“
They went to the stairs. I strolled over to the garage. I’d have to be quick about things or John would get his clock cleaned proving he was manly. What happened to turning the other cheek?
You see one civic center you’ve seen them all, but the weather was splendid for November. Sunny, no wind, temperature in the low sixties-a grand day for scuffling. I had on a gray Harris tweed jacket and a black knit tie and charcoal gray slacks and a Smith & Wesson.38 Chief Special with a two-inch barrel, and cordovan loafers with discreet tassles. I was conservatively dressed, but when you take a size 48 jacket, the choices are limited. Especially if you insist that the fabric be animal or vegetable.
It was a twenty-minute wait before the two sluggers showed up. I knew who they were even before I saw the kids stiffen and glance toward me and then quickly away. Both were overweight, though neither was exactly fat, and I knew if the fight lasted more than five minutes, I had them. They were swaggering a little as they approached the kids, feeling pleased, thinking they would be having some fun. One of them wore a navy watch cap and a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was a nude woman tattooed in blue ink on each forearm.
He said to the kids, ”You didn’t learn nothing yesterday, huh?“
His partner was a little taller and little less overweight. He had shoulder-length hair, streaked with gray.
Melanie started to move away from them, up the stairs, toward the walkway. John had to follow, keeping himself between the two sluggers and Melanie.
”Good idea,“ said the gray-haired slugger. ”We’ll talk in the garage.“
The walkway was topped with a translucent amber plastic and they all looked a little yellowish as they walked across.
When they got across, there was no one on level three of the garage but me. The levels were color-coded. Mine was green. When the four of them walked into the little anteroom off the main garage floor, I was leaning against the far wall, by the elevators, with my arms folded.
”Hidey-ho,“ I said.
Tattoo said, ”Who the fuck are you?“
I said, ”I’m with the clean mouth bureau. Let’s just step around the corner here and I’ll explain why swearing is ignorant.“
Tattoo frowned. He had come down here with Old Gray-hair to roust a couple of college kids and now he had something he wasn’t comfortable with. Probably hadn’t rousted a size 48 in a while. His partner took over.
”You a cop?“
I moved my head at the kids and we started into the garage while we talked. The two sluggers unconsciously stayed with us. I didn’t look like a college kid, but there were two of them. And they were supposed to be tough. And it would be hard for them to explain to each other why one guy had scared them away. So they moved into the parking garage with us.
”A cop?“ I said. ”No, no. You misunderstand. I’m with the Alexander campaign.“
We were fully into the garage now, and between two rows of cars. There was no one in sight.
The one with gray hair spoke again. ”Alexander campaign, huh? Well, you probably know what we told these two nerds. Same goes for you.“
”You a holy roller too?“ Tattoo said.
”No,“ I said. ”I’m a policy implementation specialist.“
”What the fuck’s that mean?“ Gray-hair said.
I smiled very flutely. I said, ”Well, it is campaign policy that our campaign workers not be harassed, if you see what I mean.“ I shifted my feet a little and got balanced.
”Oh, yeah.“ Tattoo again. ”And what d’ya do if they are?“
I hit Tattoo a left hook. Maybe the best left hook ever thrown in Springfield. He went rattling back against a tan Buick Electra, and his knees buckled and he sagged without falling.
”Implementation,“ I said. And kicked the gray-haired man in the groin. He doubled up and fell down. Tattoo’s eyes got a little clearer and he shoved himself off the Electra and lunged at me. Not smart. He lunged right into a straight left and stopped short. I shuffled a little to my right and came down over his left shoulder and hit him a right-hand shot that finished it. Tattoo dropped to the concrete floor and stayed.
John was just getting into his fighting stance as Tattoo went down. I smiled at him.
”There,“ I said. ”The power of sweet reason.“
Alexander and I were sitting alone at a small table in the corner of the main dining room at a German restaurant called The Student Prince and The Fort. It was on Fort Street, which probably accounted for some of the name. Why it had all that other name was a mystery to me. But the food was good, and there was German beer, and I wasn’t having a bad time.
Alexander ordered sauerbraten. I chose Wiener schnitzel. The restaurant was a splendid clutter of beer mugs and German artifacts. Susan and I had eaten there a couple of times before when she’d come to Springfield on business and I’d come for the ride. The food was good.
The waitress brought us two draft beers. Alexander looked down into the top of his as if there might be a message.
”You going to turn that into wine?“ I said.
Alexander smiled without much pleasure. ”That was water, I believe. I know you don’t mean any harm, but I’d rather not joke about Jesus, if you don’t mind.“
We are not amused.
I drank some beer. Alexander went back to studying his.