The Professional - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,15
Abigail Larson said.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
“No, really, how do you know?” Abigail said.
I looked inscrutable.
“Vee haf our vays,” I said.
“It seems to me our next question,” Elizabeth said, “is now that we have him located, what steps can we take to contain him?”
The women looked at one another. Then they all looked at me.
“What should we do?” Nancy said.
“He’s a blackmailer,” I said. “We could arrest him.”
“Would we have to testify?” Nancy said.
“Yes.”
Abigail looked at Elizabeth.
“Is that true?”
“You’re the victims,” Elizabeth said. “You’d have to make the complaint. You’d have to testify in court, if the case went there. We could probably keep it fairly low-key, with luck.”
“But my husband would have to know,” Nancy said.
“Very likely,” Elizabeth said.
“Then I won’t do it,” Nancy said.
I looked around the room. All of the women were shaking their heads.
“Couldn’t you just make him stop?” Regina said. “You know, beat him up or something?”
“Several things against that,” I said. “One, I don’t like doing it. Two, it’s illegal. Three, I believe that if I did, he’d blow the whistle on you.”
“Blow the whistle?” Abigail said.
“Send evidence of your infidelity to your husbands,” I said.
Everybody sat. No one said anything. Everybody looked at one another.
Finally Regina said in a very soft voice, “Could you kill him?”
“No,” I said.
“Do you know someone who would?” she said.
“Yes.”
“Could you get him to do it?”
“No,” I said.
“But why?” Regina said.
“That’s enough,” Elizabeth said. “There will be no more talk of that nature from any of you, if you wish me to continue as your attorney.”
Everyone was quiet, as if they’d been chastised by the teacher.
“I could try to arrange some kind of payoff,” I said.
“He wants so much,” Beth said.
“How much?”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars a month,” Beth said.
“From each of you?”
The other women nodded.
“I have access to some money of my own. Chet is very generous,” Beth said. “But I can’t keep paying out that kind of money without eventually having to turn to him.”
The other women nodded in agreement.
“Can you come up with one big payoff?” I said. “I might be able to persuade him to take it and move on, rather than have me on his case all the time.”
“I can’t without Chet knowing,” Beth said.
“Me, either,” Abigail said.
The two others shook their heads. I looked at Elizabeth.
“Counselor?” I said.
“I’m a trust lawyer,” she said. “I don’t know what we should do.”
I stood up.
“Good luck,” I said.
Nobody said anything, but they all looked at me mournfully as I moved toward the door. I shrugged.
“Can’t win ’em all,” I said.
Chapter17
HAWK AND I were having a “Thank God it’s late Thursday afternoon” drink at the far end of the bar in Grill 23.
“What’s the book?” I said to Hawk.
He looked at the hardcover on the bar beside him. The flap was keeping his place about one hundred pages in.
“New one by Janet Evanovich,” he said.
“Good?”
“Course it’s good. Would I be reading it, it’s not good?”
“You reading it, it wouldn’t dare,” I said.
Hawk smiled.
“Don’t suppose you want me to pop Gary Eisenhower for you,” Hawk said.
“There’s nothing going on here,” I said, “that anyone should die for.”
“Just an offer,” Hawk said.
“Thanks,” I said.
Hawk sipped some champagne.
“What are friends be for,” he said, “they can’t scrag somebody for you now and then?”
“I’ll take a raincheck,” I said.
Hawk looked as he always did, as if he’d just been washed and polished. His clothes were immaculate. His shirt seemed to glow with whiteness. His shaved head gleamed in the bar’s light.
“Maybe I should shave my head,” I said.
“White guys don’t look good with their heads shaved,” Hawk said.
“Why is that?” I said.
“Don’t know,” Hawk said. “Don’t look as good with hair, either.”
“Are you making invidious racial comparisons?” I said.
“Uh-huh,” Hawk said.
The bartender came down the bar and replaced our drinks.
“You say he knew the names of the women hired you,” Hawk said.
“Yes.”
“How many women he working, you think?”
“More than four,” I said.
“So somebody tole him,” Hawk said.
“Be my guess,” I said.
“One of them don’t believe she ain’t special to him,” Hawk said.
“You know this how?” I said.
“Simplest explanation,” he said.
“True,” I said.
“People believe what they need to believe,” Hawk said.
“Also true,” I said.
Hawk sipped his champagne. I had a little scotch.
“I got nowhere to go,” I said. “No one will testify, no one will bargain with him. They all want something they can’t have.”
“And there’s a lot you don’t know,” Hawk said.
“Susan says there’s something wrong with Gary,” I said.
“That he has as much sex as he does, with various women about whom he