"Welcome home," Susan said.
"Yes," I said.
"It went badly," Susan said.
"Mostly," I said, "it didn't go at all."
"You found Anthony Meeker," Susan said.
I shrugged.
"You couldn't prevent Shirley's death," Susan said.
"No."
"You weren't able to find who killed her."
"No."
"But you accept that, don't you."
"You can't solve every case," I said.
"You still don't know what was going on between Anthony and Marty Anaheim."
"No."
"But you accept that too, don't you."
"Lot of stuff I don't know," I said.
"And Anthony?"
"No one hired me to protect him," I said.
"No one hired me to keep him in Vegas."
"And Bibi?"
"Bibi never showed up in L.A."
"You think anything happened to her?"
"I don't know. Chollo didn't know what she looked like. She could have walked right on past him."
"Which she probably did," Susan said.
"From what you've told me, she had very little reason to trust men."
I shrugged again and had some donut. Susan smiled.
"Not even you, Sweet Potato," she said.
"I know."
"It's what's bothering you though, isn't it."
"It's all bothering me," I said.
"Hawk and I spent the last week or so wandering around Vegas without a clue."
"You found Anthony Meeker," Susan said.
"That is what you were hired to do."
"And I don't know where he is now, and I don't know who killed Shirley, and I don't know what was going on between Anthony and Marty, and I don't know why Gino Fish was so interested, and I don't know whether Julius was involved, and I don't know where Bibi is, or what's going to happen to her. She showed no signs of being able to fend for herself."
"You can't help people that don't want you to help them," Susan said.
"Thanks, Doc."
"You are a grown-up," Susan said.
"You know that as well as I do. We both do work that teaches us that lesson daily."
"True," I said.
We were quiet. I started on my third donut. Susan broke another microscopic fragment off her first one and ate some of it. The sound of the traffic floated up from Berkeley Street. Somewhere someone was making a hole in something hard. I could hear the faint sound of a jackhammer.
"What are you going to do now?" Susan said.
"There were a couple of things I back-burnered," I said, "while I went to Vegas. I'll see if I can resurrect one."
"Good to work," Susan said.
"Good to eat," I said.
"I'll always feed you," Susan said.
"Didn't you get a large sum of money recently? From some insurance company?"
"Yeah. A percentage of what I saved them. More money than I deserve. Actually, more money than anyone deserves, except Michael Jordan."
"So I don't have to feed you. You can take a little time off and pursue your hobbies if you wish to."
"You mean the Vegas thing?"
"Money is freedom," Susan said.
"I could go talk with Gino Fish again, see if he can tell me anything he didn't tell me before."
"No harm in that."
"No. Unless Gino finds it annoying and tells Vinnie Morris to shoot me."
"Would he shoot you?" Susan said.
"Depends."
"Would you shoot him?"
"Depends."
"Everything does, I guess."
"Everything but you and me, donut girl."
"Present company, always excluded," she said.
"This is going to bother you until you get some kind of closure on it."
"I suppose it might," I said.
"It will," Susan said.
"I have a Ph.D. from Harvard."
"This is going to bother me," I said, "until I get some kind of closure on it."
Susan smiled.
"It's good to face the truth," she said.
"Would it help if I sat on your lap?"
"It might," I said.
CHAPTER 31
Hawk and I went to see Gino Fish on a raw day with no sun and the wind coming hard off the Atlantic. Gino lived in a big colonial house on the ocean side of Jerusalem Road in Cohasset. There was a circular drive in front and a lawn that sloped to the seawall behind. The house was done in white cedar shingles which had silvered in the salt air, the way they're supposed to. A very handsome young man answered the door.
"Gino home?" I said.
"Who should I say is calling?"
"Spenser," I said.
"He knows me."
"Certainly, sir, and the other gentleman?"
"Hawk."
"I'm Mr. Fish's personal assistant," the handsome young man said.
"Is there something I could help you with?"
He was wearing what appeared to be a pale blue sweat suit, with a stand-up collar. The sweat suit looked like it was made of silk. It also looked like it had never known sweat.
"Just tell Gino we're here, and we want to tell him something about Marty."
"Mr. Anaheim?"
Neither Hawk nor I answered. The personal assistant still hesitated. Hawk and I still stood.
Finally the personal assistant said, "If you'll excuse me for a moment."
He closed the door.
Hawk looked at me.
"Personal assistant?"
I shrugged.
"That's what he said."
Hawk nodded. The front door opened again and the personal assistant was there.
"Mr. Fish is busy at the moment, but if you wish to wait, he'll see you as soon as he's through."
"We'll wait," I said.
"Please come this way then," the personal assistant said.
He led us to the right off the central entry hall into a room with a huge picture window that looked out at the ocean. He gestured gracefully at the rock maple chairs with red plaid cushions that stood on either side of a brick fireplace. Neither Hawk nor I sat.
"Mr. Fish will be with you as soon as he's free," the personal assistant said.
"Yes he will," I said.
The personal assistant frowned as if he were puzzled. Then he nodded politely and left the room. Hawk went and looked out the picture window at the harsh gray ocean ruffled white here and there at the tips of its waves by the onshore wind.
"Thing about getting a place with a great view," Hawk said, "is, after you moved in and looked at the great view for a few days, you get used to it and it ain't a great view anymore. It just what you look at out your window."
"You're a deep guy," I said.
"And sensitive," Hawk said.
"Maybe I should host a talk show."
"Will you have me as a guest?" I said.
"
"Course not."
Hawk continued to look at the ocean. The room where we waited was completely furnished in rock maple furniture with red plaid upholstery. Couch, four armchairs, two slipper rockers.
There were a couple of Hingham buckets around to serve as ashtray stands, and there was a big red-toned braided rug on the floor. The fireplace had a large round eagle mirror over the mantel.
"I wonder who's Gino's decorator," I said.
"Molly Pitcher," Hawk said.
"What was it we doing here?"
"Looking for Bibi."
"And why we think she be here?"
"We don't," I said.
"But we don't know where else to start. So if we find out what was going on between Gino and Marty and Anthony and Julius, maybe we'll get an idea of where to look for Bibi."
"Or maybe we won't."
"Welcome to the world of detection," I said.
"And why we looking for Bibi?"
"Because we're worried about her."
"Of course we are," Hawk said.
The door opened and Gino came in with Vinnie Morris. He saw Hawk and nodded to him. Hawk made no response.
"I came to see you," Gino said.
"Now you come to see me."
"Equipoise," I said.
Gino smiled with neither warmth nor humor, on and off.
"Geoffrey spoke of Marty Anaheim," he said.
"Geoffrey?"
"My assistant. He said you wanted to tell me something about Marty."