As I shifted to a second plate, I dropped some squid onto the hardwood floor. A gangly creature with tall legs and droopy brown ears rushed into the kitchen to assist with the mess. The creature lapped up the squid and turned its brown eyes up to me for more, head tilted in a cheap ploy for sympathy.
I tossed down a bit more.
“You’re training her to know you’re a sucker,” Susan said.
“Pearl has always known my weakness.”
“And you still believe this Pearl and our Pearl are one and the same?”
I nodded, pouring out some olive oil into a hot copper skillet.
“Makes as much sense as anything,” Susan said.
“True.”
“And this system of yours, knowing when she’ll be born and where to find her, is secret.”
“Known only to me and Hawk.”
“And what does Hawk think?”
“Hawk believes all white people are crazy.”
“Hawk may have a point.”
Puppy Pearl scampered away, only to return a moment later with a rope toy larger than she is, and dropped it at Susan’s feet. Susan picked it up and tossed it across my apartment. The apartment was four times the size of my old place on Marlborough, and it took some time for Puppy Pearl to return. Old Pearl had passed away back in March, and the weeks after had in many ways been unbearable. Losing Pearl Two had been even tougher than losing the first.
“How about I just call her Puppy for now?” Susan said.
“Not ready for her to assume the throne yet?”
“Not yet,” she said. “Give me time.”
I sipped my scotch. Duke debated a tulip, a turnip, rosebud, rhubarb, fillet, or plain beef stew. The warm light across the hardwood floors and brick walls made for a pleasant early evening. I picked up the scallops and set them into a hot pan. The sizzling sound only added to the pleasantness.
“Do you know anything more about this man?”
“Mattie told me her client said he was middle-aged, handsome, and supposedly fabulously wealthy.”
“No name?”
“No name.”
“Did Mattie call this girl her client?”
“Not that exact word,” I said. “But she believes the young woman is her client.”
“Does that worry you?”
“Why would it worry me?”
“The life you lead is very interesting and very satisfying for you,” Susan said. “But it doesn’t come easy or without many risks and sacrifices.”
“But if I hadn’t been in this line of work, how else would’ve I met a hot Jewish shrink with incredible sexual appetites?”
“Right now, my appetites are focused on those scallops.”
“But later?”
“Dessert,” she said. “What do you have for dessert?”
“Where is Susan Silverman, and what have you done with her?”
Susan stared at me with a devilish little grin. I felt my heart swell in my chest and a smile creep onto my lips.
“You will help Mattie,” Susan said.
“Of course.”
“Even if she doesn’t want help.”
“Do you really have any doubts?”
I flipped the scallops, the edges turning a lovely brown color in the butter and olive oil. We were nearly ready to sit down. Pearl rambled up to my feet and looked up panting, long tongue lolling out of her little mouth as all Pearls had done before.
“Family trait,” I said.
“I wonder if she’ll be able to stalk squirrels in the Public Garden,” she said. “Maybe track a lone french fry or candy wrapper.”
“Of course,” I said, reaching down to rub her long, droopy ears. “She was born to it.”
3
Two days later, Mattie called.
I’d just finished working out at the Harbor Health Club, taken a steam and a shower, and had emerged onto Atlantic Avenue as fresh as a dozen daisies. The cell phone rang in my pocket as I opened the door to my well-worn Land Cruiser.
“I think I’m being followed,” Mattie said.
“Where are you?”
“The Common,” Mattie said. “Walking toward the office.”
“How many?”
“Two,” she said. “Late twenties. Early thirties. White dudes. One’s got on a Pats cap, and the other is bald.”
“Shouldn’t the bald guy be wearing a cap?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll ask ’em when they get closer.”
“Have they threatened you?”
“They got out of a car over on Tremont and followed me over to the Frog Pond.”
“Where are you now?”
“About to cross Charles and into the Public Garden.”
“I’ll be waiting at the George Washington statue,” I said. “Ten minutes. Mingle with the crowd.”
“I’m not scared,” Mattie said. “Take your time.”
“You think these guys are connected to your sleuthing?”
“I think these two fucknuts wanted to harass me after I left the Blackstone Club.”
“Did you get the backpack?”
“Nope,” she said. “Didn’t get past the first room. A guy with a gun and a blue blazer escorted me onto the street. And then I noticed these two creeps when I passed the T station.”
I drove as fast as the traffic allowed over to Park Street and then hugged the Common along Beacon, the copper dome of the State House shining with its usual early-morning luster. I parked in a loading zone by the Bull & Finch and walked across the street and into the Public Garden.
I waited in the shadow of George Washington, watching the crowds swell into a river over the Lagoon Bridge. Soon I caught sight of Mattie walking in my direction with great purpose. She had on her satin Sox pitcher jacket over a T-shirt with jeans and sneakers. Her long red hair was flying loose behind her as she spotted me.
I stood there, more still than Washington, wearing my Braves cap and Ray-Bans. I looked beyond Mattie, watching two men jostling through the crowd, half walking, half jogging, and coming up behind her. One had on a white cap with what looked to be a Pats symbol. I couldn’t really tell at this distance. But the other’s head was bald and shone brighter than the State House dome.