The Professional - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,7
to know,” Zel said.
“Who is he?” I said.
Zel nodded quietly to himself, as if confirming a suspicion.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s how it nearly always goes.”
“How’s that?” I said.
“Everybody’s a wiseguy,” Zel said. “Everybody’s a tough guy.”
“Must be disappointing for you,” I said.
“That’s what Boo’s for,” he said.
“Glad he’s for something,” I said.
Zel nodded again in the same sad way.
“So what’s your interest in Gary Eisenhower?”
“Who wants to know?”
Zel shrugged.
“Okay,” he said. “Boo?”
Boo smiled happily and started around my desk. I took a gun out of my open desk drawer and pointed it at both of them. Boo stopped. He looked disappointed.
“I got one of those, too,” Zel said.
“But yours is under your coat,” I said.
“True,” Zel said. “Back off, Boo.”
Boo looked more disappointed, but he stepped back in front of the desk.
“Hard on Boo,” Zel said. “He gets all juiced to smack somebody around and then he can’t.”
“Loving your work is a good thing,” I said. “Maybe another time.”
“You think you can handle Boo?” Zel said.
“Sure,” I said.
“Without the piece?” Zel said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I heard you were good,” Zel said.
Boo stared at me. Apparently, he hadn’t heard that. Or it hadn’t impressed him.
“Kind of like to watch,” Zel said. “You decide to try it.”
“Been a while,” I said, “since I had a fight to prove I could.”
“Yeah, I know,” Zel said. “Seems kind of pointless, don’t it.”
“Tiring, too,” I said.
“Boo ain’t to that point yet,” Zel said.
“Probably won’t get there soon,” I said.
“’Less he starts losing a few,” Zel said.
“You want to know my interest in Eisenhower. I want to know who wants to know,” I said.
“You show me yours, I show you mine?” Zel said.
“Might work,” I said.
“And if it don’t?” Zel said.
“I could shoot you,” I said.
“But you won’t,” Zel said.
“Probably not,” I said. “Unless Boo becomes a distraction.”
Zel nodded. He looked at me for a while. Then he nodded to himself slowly.
“I work for a guy name of Chester Jackson,” Zel said.
“What’s his interest?” I said.
“Don’t know,” Zel said. “Show me yours.”
“Guy is blackmailing a group of women he had affairs with,” I said. “They want me to make him stop.”
“Who are the women?”
“Nope,” I said.
Zel nodded.
After a while he said, “I think Mr. Jackson will want to talk with you.”
“Sure,” I said.
Zel took a business card out of his shirt pocket and put it on my desk. Chester Jackson had offices at International Place. I picked up the card and put it in my shirt pocket.
“Chester married?” I said.
Zel shrugged.
“Maybe to a younger woman?” I said.
Zel smiled faintly and shrugged again.
“I’ll stop by,” I said.
Zel nodded.
“Adiós,” he said. “Come on, Boo.”
They walked out. At the door Boo turned and looked at me hard.
“I ain’t forgetting you,” he said.
“Few people do,” I said.
Chapter 8
THE SECRETARY HAD a British accent. She ushered me in to see Mr. Jackson as though it was an audience. We were high up. There was the usual spectacular view of the harbor. And in front of the view, on a credenza, was a big photograph of Beth. Chet stood up and came around his desk when I came in.
“Chet Jackson,” he said, and put out his hand.
He had a big chin and short black hair with a lot of gray showing. The hair was receding from his forehead. His face was unlined. He smelled of very good cologne. His grip was strong. He had on a blue suit with a blue-and-white striped tie against a gleaming white shirt. There was a white handkerchief in his breast pocket.
I sat. He sat.
“Coffee?” he said. “Tea? water? Something stronger?”
“No, thanks.”
Chet nodded decisively.
“Okay,” he said. “What can you tell me about Gary Eisenhower?”
“He’s blackmailing a number of women,” I said. “They asked me to find him and make him stop.”
“Have you found him?”
“No.”
“But you’ve been looking for him at Pinnacle Fitness,” Chet said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Thought I might find him there,” I said.
“What made you think that?”
“Probably,” I said, “same thing that made you go there.”
“What makes you think I went there?”
“I’m a trained investigator,” I said. “One day I ask about Eisenhower there, next day Zel and Boo come around.”
“Who are these women who employed you?”
I shook my head.
“I am a man of considerable leverage,” Chet said.
“How nice for you,” I said.
“And I don’t like flippant,” Chet said.
“What a shame,” I said.
Chet swiveled in his chair and with his back to me looked out his window at his view. After a suitable pause he swiveled back and looked hard at me.
“I want to know who you represent,” he said.