21
PEARL, SUSAN, AND I were sitting on the top step of
her front porch on the first warm evening of spring. It was still
light. The sun wouldn't set until after seven o'clock. Susan and I
were having cocktails. Pearl was surveying Linnaean
Street.
"You're going to
stay with the case even though you're fired," Susan
said.
"You think?" I
said.
She
smiled.
"I know," she
said.
"Why would I do
that?" I said.
"Because you told
Martin Quirk that you would," Susan said.
"I didn't say I'd do
it for free."
"But you will if you
have to," she said.
"How can you be so
sure?" I said.
"Because you are a
simple tool, and I know you better than I know
anything."
"Don't be so cocky,"
I said. "You might be wrong, sometimes."
"Are you sticking
with the case?"
"Well," I said,
"yeah."
"Is it because you
told Quirk you'd do it?" Susan said.
"Well,
yeah."
"Is anybody paying
you?"
"Well,
no."
"See?"
"Okay, you got that
part right," I said. "But it doesn't make me a simple
tool."
"I could sum you up
in a sentence," Susan said.
"What would it
be?"
"You do what you say
you'll do. You aren't afraid of much. And you love
me."
"That's three
sentences," I said.
"I separated them by
semicolons," Susan said.
Sitting between us,
as was her wont, Pearl was staring intently at a squirrel across
the street. The yard was fenced and the gate was closed, so there
wasn't much else she could do, but she was giving it a hell of a
stare. We sipped our drinks. People passed. Several smiled at the
three of us. Susan spoke to some of them.
"Would you ever put
your underpants on backward?" I said.
"Is this a trick
question?" Susan said.
"No," I said. "Dawn
Lopata's underpants were on backward when they took her to the
hospital."
Susan shook her
head.
"No one would make
that mistake," she said.
"Unless it was a man
and he was rushed," I said.
"Unless that," Susan
said.
"Also," I said, "she
had rather large breasts but no bra."
"How
large?"
"I never saw her in
person," I said, "but in pictures she seems in the D-cup
range."
"Did she seem to be
braless in the pictures?" Susan said.
"No."
"It's not a dilemma
I've ever faced," Susan said. "But most women would not want to go
braless with breasts that big."
"My thought
exactly."
"And you are
wondering if maybe someone else dressed her?" Susan said. "And
getting the bra on was too much work?"
"I am."
"Would that mean
that Jumbo did it?"
"Nope. But it means
somebody wanted to, ah, clean up the scene a little."
"Z?" Susan
said.
"Probably."
"Have you consulted
Quirk about this?" Susan said.
"No."
"Don't you think you
ought to?" Susan said.
"No."
"Why not?" she said.
"Why not take advantage of what he might have learned
already?"
"We decided not to
consult," I said.
"Why
not?"
"We both think the
best thing is for me to start from scratch," I said. "And reach a
conclusion and compare it with Quirk's."
"He said
that?"
"No."
"So . . .
?"
"I mentioned it, and
he agreed. There's stuff you know," I said, "without saying
much."
"Oh," Susan said.
"I'm blundering into that male thing again."
"No matter where you
go," I said, "you don't blunder."
"Thank you," Susan
said. "But talk to me about the, ah, male thing, a little
more."
"Quirk wants to know
if Jumbo's guilty. He doesn't care if he can prove it. But he wants
to know. If I go through the exercise and conclude that Jumbo is
guilty, and Quirk's conclusion is the same, then he can relax and
let them railroad Jumbo, even if there's no proof."
"And that's
justice?" Susan said.
"Enough justice for
Quirk," I said. "As long as he's sure Jumbo is
guilty."
"But he's never said
all this."
"Mostly not," I
said.
"But you know it,"
Susan said.
"I do."
"Because that would
be enough justice for you," she said.
"It would," I
said.
The squirrel had
vanished, and Pearl was now staring thoughtfully into the middle
distance.
"And if you conclude
that Jumbo didn't do it, or at least didn't do it with intent . . .
?"
"I'll report it to
Quirk, and he'll have to decide."
"If he decides to
fight it?" Susan said.
"I'll help
him."
"If he decides to
let Jumbo be railroaded?" Susan said.
"He won't," I
said.
All three of us sat
for a bit, looking into the middle distance.
Then I said, "May I
mix us up some fresh drinks?"
"Yes," Susan said.
"You may."
So I
did.
Zebulon Sixkill VI"A bouncer?" Lucy said. "I can't be with a bouncer, for God's sake.""Gotta make a living," Zebulon said."How much living can a bouncer make?" Lucy said."Don't know.""You didn't even ask?""No.""What's wrong with you?" she said."Don't know," Zebulon said."You're not going to play football anymore?""Guess not."Lucy stared at him silently, and as she stared, he could almost see her withdraw into the perfect gloss of herself."Thank God we didn't get married," she said."Why?""It would have been so much harder to leave you," she said."Leave?""My family disapproves of divorce," she said."You're going to leave?""One minute I'm living in a nice condo with the campus God, the man who's going to be a famous professional player and make millions of dollars."Zebulon shrugged."Next minute I'm living in some dump with an Indian from Montana who works as a bouncer?""I guess," Zebulon said."I wasn't brought up for that, Z. I can't be that.""Maybe I can get back in shape," Zebulon said. "Transfer. Take care of business.""Maybe," Lucy said. "Maybe. Maybe. I can't wait for that, Z. The girls in my sorority used to call me Sister Squaw. They were jealous. Now they won't call me that. But they'll laugh behind my back. Last year's homecoming queen. This year's joke.""You don't love me," Zebulon said.Lucy looked at him silently for a moment. She seemed as if she might cry. But she didn't.Instead, she said, "Not enough."