Promised Land (15 page)

“Couldn’t we talk over the transports of delight in which we soared last evening?”

“Do you laugh at everything?”

“No, but we’re spending too much time on this kind of talk. The kind of man I am is not a suitable topic, you know. It’s not what one talks about.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not.”

“The code? A man doesn’t succumb to self-analysis? It’s weak? It’s womanish?”

“It’s pointless. What I am is what I do. Finding the right words for it is no improvement. It isn’t important whether I’m scared or excited. It’s important whether or not I do it. It doesn’t matter to Shepard why. It matters to Shepard if.”

“You’re wrong. It matters more than that. It matters why.”

“Maybe it matters mostly how.”

“My, aren’t we epigrammatic. Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. Repartee.”

“He spells his name differently,” I said.

Susan turned over on her side, her back to me, and was quiet. I had some more coffee. The murmurous rush of the air conditioner seemed quite loud. I’d asked for the New Bedford Standard Times with breakfast, and in the quiet, I picked it up and turned to the classified section. My ad was there under personals. “Sisters, call me at 555-1434, Pam.” I looked at the sports page and finished my coffee. It was ten after twelve. I folded the paper and put it on the room service cart.

“Gotta go, Suze,” I said.

She nodded without turning over.

I got up, put on my sunglasses and opened the door. “Spenser,” she said, “I don’t want us to be mad at each other.”

“Me either,” I said. I still had hold of the doorknob.

“Come back when you can,” she said. “I miss you when you’re gone.”

“Me too,” I said. I left the door open and went back and kissed her on the cheekbone, up near the temple. She rolled over on her back and looked up at me. Her eyes were wet. “Bye-bye,” I said.

“Bye-bye.”

I went out and closed the door and headed for Harv Shepard’s place with my stomach feeling odd.

I don’t know if I was scared or not, but Shepard was so scared his face didn’t fit. The skin was stretched much too tight over the bones and he swallowed a lot, and loudly, as we drove out Main Street to the Holiday Inn.

“You don’t need to know what I’m up to,” I said. “I think you’ll do better if you don’t. Just take it that I’ve got something working that might get you out of this.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because it requires some deception and I don’t think you’re up to it.”

“You’re probably right,” he said.

Hawk had a room on the second floor, overlooking the pool. He answered the door when we knocked, and Shepard and I went in. There was assorted booze on the bureau to the right, and a thin guy with horn-rimmed glasses reading the Wall Street Journal on one of the beds. King Powers was sitting at a round table with an open ledger in front of him, his hands folded on the edge of the table. Stagey bastard.

“What is that you have with you,” Powers said in a flat Rudy Vallee voice.

“We’re friends,” I said. “We go everywhere together.”

Powers was a tall, soft-looking man with pale skin and reddish hair trimmed long like a Dutch boy, and augmented with fuzzy mutton-chop sideburns. His wardrobe looked like Robert Hall Mod. Maroon-checked doubleknit leisure suit, white belt, white shoes, white silk shirt with the collar out over the lapels. A turquoise arrowhead was fastened around his neck on a leather thong and stuck straight out, like a gesture of derision.

“I didn’t tell you to bring no friends,” Powers said to Shepard.

“You’ll be glad he did,” I said. “I got a package for you that will put a lot of change in your purse.”

“I don’t use no goddamned purse,” Powers said.

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. I thought that was your mistress on the bed.”

Behind me Hawk murmured. “Hot damn” to himself. The guy on the bed looked up from his Wall Street Journal and frowned.

Powers said, “Hawk, get him the fuck out of here.”

Hawk said. “This is Spenser. I told you about him. He likes to kid around but he don’t mean harm. Leastwise he don’t always mean harm.”

“Hawk, you hear me. I told you move him out.”

“He talking money, King. Maybe you should listen.”

“You working for me, Hawk? You do what you’re told.”

“Naw, I only do what I want. I never do what I’m told. Same with old Spenser here. You yell your ass off at him, if you want, but he ain’t going to do a goddamned thing he don’t want to do. You and Macey listen to him. He talking about money, he probably ain’t bullshitting. You don’t like what you hear. Then I’ll move him out.”

“Aw right, aw right. Let’s hear it, for crissake. Spit it out.” Powers’ pale face was a little red and he was looking at me hard. Macey, on the bed, had sat up, and put his feet on the floor. He still held the Journal in his left hand, his forefinger keeping the place.

“Okay, King. First. Harv can’t pay up, at this time.”

“Then his ass is grass and I’m a fucking lawnmower,” Powers said.

“Trendy,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Trendy as a bastard, that slick maroon and white combo. And to top it off you talk so good. You’re just an altogether with-it guy.”

“You keep fucking around with me, Spenser, and you’re going to wish you never did.”

“Whyn’t you get to the part about the bread, Spenser,” Hawk said. “In the purse. Whyn’t you talk on that.”

“I got a buyer with about a hundred thousand dollars who is looking for some guns. I will trade you the buyer for Shepard.”

“What makes you think I can get guns?”

“King, for a hundred thousand skins you could get a dancing aardvark.” He smiled. His lips were puffy and when he smiled the inside of his upper lip turned out. And his gums showed above his top teeth.

“Yeah, maybe I could,” he said. “But Shepard’s into me for a lot of fucking dough.” He ran his eyes down the ledger page in front of him. “Thirty big ones. I took a lot of risk with that dough, just on a handshake, you know? It ain’t easy to trade that off.”

“Okay,” I said. “See you, we’ll take it elsewhere,” I said. “Come on, Harv.”

Powers said, “You’re choice, but your pal better have the payment on him now, or we’re going to be awful mad.”

“The payment’s in the offer. You turned it down, you got no bitch.” I turned to go. Hawk was between us and the door. His hands resting delicately on his hips.

“Hawk,” Powers said. “Shepard don’t leave.”

“Hundred thousand’s a lotta vegetable matter, King,” Hawk said.

“Hawk’s right, Mr. Powers.” Macey on the bed had dropped his Journal and brought out a neat-looking little.25 automatic with a pearl handle and nickel plating. Probably matched his cuff links.

“What’s in it for you, Spencer?” Powers said.

“Thirty percent,” I said. “You can use it to pay off Shepard’s loan.”

Powers was quiet. We all were. It was like a stop frame in instant replay.

Hawk at ease in front of the door. Shepard with his skin squeezing tight on his body, Macey with his cute gun. Powers sitting at the table, thinking.

The window was behind him and the light coming in framed him like a back-lit photograph. The little tendrils of fuzz in the double-knit were silhouetted and clear along his coat sleeves and the tops of the shoulders. The mutton-chop sideburns where the whiskers individuated at the outer edge were more gold than copper against the light.

“Who’s your customer?” King said. Hawk whistled shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits between his teeth. Softly.

“If I told you that I probably wouldn’t be needed as go-between, would I?”

Powers turned his lip up again and giggled. Then he turned to the thin guy. “Macey,” he said, “I got some golf to play. Set this thing up.” He looked at me. “This better be straight,” he said. “If it ain’t you are going to be pushing up your fucking daisies. You unnerstand? Fucking daisies you’ll be pushing up.” He got up and walked past me toward the door.

“Daisies,” I said.

He went out. Macey put the.25 away and said, “Okay, let’s get to work.”

I said, “Is he going to play golf in his Anderson-Little cutaway?”

“He’s going to change in the clubhouse,” Macey said. “Haven’t you ever played golf?”

“Naw, we were into aggravated assault when I was a kid.”

Macey smiled once, on and off like a blinking light. Hawk went and lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Shepard went stiffly to the bureau where the booze was and made a big drink. Macey sat down at the round table and I joined him. “Okay,” he said, “give me the deal.”

There wasn’t all that much to set up with Macey yet. I told him I’d have to get in touch with the other principals first and get back to him, but that the 100 grand was firm and he should start getting in touch with his sources.

“The guns would be top dollar,” Macey said. “There’s the risk factor, and the added problem of market impact. Large quantity like this causes ripples, as you must know.”

“I know. And I know you can manage it. That’s why I came to you.”

Macey said, “Um-hum” and took a business card from the breast pocket of his seersucker suit. “Call me,” he said, “when you’ve talked to the other party.”

I took the card and put it in my wallet. “We’re in business then,” I said.

“Certainly,” Macey said. “Assuming the deal is as you represent it.”

“Yeah, that too,” I said. “That means if we’re in business that you folks will lay off old Harv here. Right?”

“Of course,” Macey said. “You heard Mr. Powers. We borrow and lend, we’re not animals. There’s no problem there.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But I want a little more reassurance. Hawk?”

Hawk was motionless on the bed, his hands folded over his solar plexus, his eyes closed. Without opening his eyes he said, “Shepard’ll be okay.”

I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go, Harv.”

Shepard put down what was left of his drink, and went out of the room without even looking around. I followed him. Nobody said goodbye.

When we got in my car and started out of the parking lot, Shepard said, “How do we know they’ll keep their word?”

“About staying off your back?” I said.

Shepard nodded.

“Hawk said so,” I said.

“Hawk? The nigger? He’s the one beat me up last time.”

“He keeps his word,” I said. “And I told you before, call him Hawk. I’m not going to tell you again.”

“Yeah, sure, sorry, I forgot. But, Jesus, trusting him. I mean the guy Macey seems reasonable, like a guy you can do business with… But Hawk.”

“You don’t know anything,” I said. “Macey would take out your eyeballs for a dollar. You think he’s a guy you can deal with ‘cause he talks like he went to the Wharton School. Maybe he did, but he’s got no more honor than a toad. He’ll do anything. Hawk won’t. There’s things Hawk won’t do.”

“Like what?”

“He won’t say yes and do no.”

“Well, I guess you know your business. Where the hell are you getting the money?”

“That’s not your problem,” I said. We pulled up in front of Shepard’s house. He’d banged back two big drinks while I was talking with Macey and his mouth was a little slow.

“Thanks, Spenser,” he said. “Just for going, let alone for making that gun deal. I was scared shit.”

“You should have been,” I said. We shook hands, Shepard got out and went in the house. I cruised back to the motel. Susan wasn’t around and her car wasn’t in the lot. I called Pam Shepard from my hotel room.

“You hear from the girls?” I said.

“From Rose, yes. They’ll meet us. I know you’re being funny, but please don’t call them girls.”

“Where?”

“Where will they meet us?”

“Yeah.”

“In Milton. There’s an observatory on top of the Great Blue Hill. Do you know where that is?”

“Yeah.”

“They’ll meet us in the observatory. This afternoon at five.”

I looked at my watch: 1:25. There was time. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll come pick you up and we’ll go. I’ll leave now, should be there around three. Start looking out the window then. I’ll park on the street and when you see me, come on down.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I’ll talk with you about it while we drive to Milton.”

“All right.”

“You bored?”

“Oh God, I’m going crazy.”

“Not too much longer,” I said.

“I hope not.”

We hung up, I went back to my car and set out for Boston again. If I made the trip many more times I’d be able to sleep on the way. I pulled up in front of my apartment at ten after three. In about forty seconds Pam Shepard came out the front door and got in the car. And we were off again for the Blue Hills.

The top was down and Pam Shepard leaned her head back against the seat and took a big inhale. “Good God, it’s good to get out of there,” she said.

“That’s my home you’re speaking of,” I said. “I was kind of wishing I could get in there.”

“I didn’t mean it’s not nice, and it’s not even so much that it’s been that long, it’s just that, when you know you can’t go out, it’s almost like claustrophobia.”

Her clean brown hair was pulled back, still in the French twist she’d worn since I met her, and the wind didn’t bother it much. I went out along Park Drive and the Jamaicaway and the Arborway south on Route 28. Just across the Neponset River, Route 138 branched off from Route 28 and we went with it, taking our time. We pulled into the Blue Hills Reservation and parked near the Trailside Museum at four o’clock.

“We’re awfully early,” Pam Shepard said.

“Plan ahead,” I said. “I want to be here waiting. I don’t want them to get nervous waiting for us and leave.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

“We’ll walk up to the observatory on the top. And when they come, I’ll tell them I have a seller for them.”

“A seller?”

“A gun broker. I’ve got a guy who’ll sell them all the guns they can afford.”

“But why? Why would you do that?”

“Isn’t that why you stole the money?”

“Yes, but you don’t approve of us, do you? You don’t want to arm us certainly.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m working on a very fancy move, and I don’t want you trying to pretend you don’t know. So I won’t tell you. Then you won’t have to pretend. You just assume I’m in your corner, and you vouch for me every time the question comes up.”