"She pass out?" I said.
"I'm afraid she has, sir," Jose said.
"But unfortunately not before she was sick."
"Okay, Jose," I said.
"Keep the other ladies out of there for a couple minutes and we'll get her out."
"Jose," the maitre d' said.
"I'm Brazilian. In Portuguese you pronounce the J."
"Jcs," I said, and went to the front door of the restaurant and gestured at her driver. Jackie was more alert than I had thought.
He came rolling out of the car very quickly, with his hand inside his coat. He was a tall rangy kid, with a lot of black hair cut short on the sides, left long on the top.
"She passed out in the ladies' room," I said.
He took his hand out of his coat.
"You give her something to drink?"
"Some wine," I said.
Jackie nodded.
"Probably two bottles, right?"
I nodded.
"Which way?" Jackie said.
We went into the ladies' room and found Shirley asleep on the floor in one of the stalls, her cheek resting on the toilet seat, her white thighs exposed by the skirt that had hiked up above her hips. She looked like a clumsy little girl who'd eaten too much Halloween candy. I wanted to put my coat over her, or something.
"Goddamn it," I said.
Jackie pushed past me. He straddled her, got his arms around her waist, and hoisted her up.
She mumbled something that sounded like "hey."
Jackie turned her toward the sink.
"Clean her off," he said to me.
I wet one of the hand towels and did the best I could. She wasn't cooperative but she was too zonked to put up much resistance. I used a second towel to finish the cleanup and a third to dry her off.
"Okay," I said.
"Want me to take an arm?"
Jackie shook his head.
"Easier I just do her around the waist like this. You can go ahead and open doors."
"Done this before, I gather."
Jackie didn't say anything but he let his eyes roll upwards in their sockets for a moment. We got her through the restaurant, out the door, and into her father's car. She slumped over when Jackie put her in the backseat. He went around to the front, got in behind the wheel, nodded at me, power-locked the doors, and drove her away.
I went back in to pay the check.
"I hope the lady is all right, sir," Jose said.
I gave him my American Express card.
"I don't think she'll ever be all right," I said.
"But she'll be no worse for this experience."
Jose went away with my card.
No wonder they didn't like her to drink wine at lunch.
CHAPTER 9
I feel like Chester the Molester," I said to Susan.
We were walking Pearl the Wonder Dog along the Charles River, on the Esplanade, near the Hatch Shell.
"Getting a young woman drunk and pumping her for information?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Are you familiar with the term "Consenting Adult'?" Susan said.
I nodded. Susan was wearing black high top sneakers, black sweats, a black baseball cap with the words "Community Servings" printed in 'white over the visor, and a yellow all-weather jacket which said "DKNY Athletic" in black letters on the back.
"Did you find out things that will help you?"
"I found out that her husband handles a lot of money. I found out that he has cheated on her and seems inclined to again, except he's afraid that her father will have someone cut off his testicles."
"Well, it would render the question of adultery moot," Susan said.
"Conventionally denned."
"Good point," Susan said.
"I also found out from Lennie Seltzer that Anthony, that's Shirley's husband, gambles a lot and loses."
"And," Susan said, "you found out that Anthony is married to a stupid, coarse, spoiled, self-indulgent, childish drunk."
"You shrinks have a real knack for saying things so they don't sound bad."
A platoon of people in elbow pads, helmets, and spandex pants Rollerbladed by with various degrees of grace. Pearl gazed after them with what might have been scorn, or even derision. I wasn't sure. Dogs are hard to read.
"I'd love to do that," Susan said.
"I think I'll take some lessons."
I made no comment. Pearl returned to straining against her leash, sniffing the grass along the edge of the sidewalk, alert for a wayward Zagnut wrapper.
"So what you have is a picture of perhaps a compulsive gambler with a wandering eye, married to an undesirable wife, with access to a great deal of money," Susan went on.
"That you had to find some of this out by sitting quietly while Shirley Ventura got drunk and made an ass of herself seems a fair exchange for a man in your business."
"You ought to try Rollerblading, at that," I said.
"And if you don't like it you can always eat the skates."
"Oh come on," Susan said.
"You complain that I'm hard. You're the hardest person I've ever known. And I'm in a fairly tough profession, myself."
"Including Hawk?"
"Okay, one of the two hardest people I've ever known," Susan said.
"And most of the time you accept it. In fact most of the time you enjoy it, except when you have one of these little sentimental spasms."
"Thanks," I said.
"I needed that."
We walked quietly for a bit. Pearl spotted a couple of sparrows and went into her bird dog stalk, head extended, body tense, each step infinitely deliberate as she seemed to steadily elongate toward the birds until they flew away. As they rose in the air Pearl looked back at me expectantly.
"Bang," I said.
Pearl returned to the Zagnut hunt.
"Of course," Susan said, "I love you for having the little spasms of sentimentality."
"I know," I said.
"That's why I have them."
Pearl paused to roll vigorously on an earthworm which had gotten squashed on the sidewalk, probably the victim of a reckless Rollerblader.
"Ick," Susan said as Pearl rolled.
"Why do they do that?"
"I don't know," I said.
"Dogs are sometimes mysterious," Susan said.
The small sailboats that people rented from the public boat club bobbed not very gracefully around the basin where the river widened behind the dam. They had small sails and flat bottoms and the people in them were mostly amateurs, but the scatter of white sails on the blue-gray river looked nice anyway. On the other side MIT stretched along Memorial Drive, its gray stone buildings and its domes looking technical and serious.
"I also have a connection between Gino Fish and Julius Ventura," I said.
Pearl got through with the worm and got up and shook herself and proceeded. We went with her.
"Who's Gino Fish," Susan said.
"Sort of filled the number-one slot," I said, "when Joe Broz got old."
"Broz retired?"
"Not really, but his kid's a bust, and Vinnie left him, and he's about seventy, and his heart's not in it anymore."
"And where does Shirley's father rank in all of this?"
"If it weren't for Gino, he'd have Broz's slot," I said.
"He might get it anyway. He's ambitious."
"So what's the connection?"
"Gino's guy Marty Anaheim had some people following me."
"And you're sure it's about Whatsisname, Shirley's father?"
"Better than that," I said.
"Hawk and I braced Marty and he asked if Julius hired us to do anything with Anthony Meeker."
"Why are they interested?"
"I "Don't know."
"What would you speculate?"
"Money."
Susan smiled.
"That would always be a reasonable guess, wouldn't it," she said.
"Yes."
"And the other guess would probably be sex," Susan said.
"So young," I said, "so beautiful, and yet so cynical."
CHAPTER 10
There were maybe a dozen places in the phone book with the word Starlight in their name. I eliminated places which wouldn't employ waitresses, like Starlight Video, or the Starlight Laundry, and narrowed it down to The Starlight Lounge in Lynn, and a roadhouse called Starlight Memories on the beach in Salisbury. I took the wedding picture of Anthony and Shirley with me and went to check out the waitresses.