"Which is it, a `couple,' or a `bunch?' "
'There are four women participating in the lawsuit," Sterling said. "One of them is married to Francis Ronan."
"The law professor," I said.
"Him," Sterling said. "Talk about your luck running bad."
"You didn't touch these women?"
"Absolutely not," Sterling said.
"Were you obscene?"
"No, of course not."
"Did they work for you?"
"Not really. They were volunteers. I mean I was at the top of the pyramid, I suppose, and they were down the slope a bit. But they didn't work for me."
"If you lose, can you pay the judgment?"
"That's not the point. I'm…" He grinned. "I'm an innocent man."
"But you could pay it."
"Certainly."
"You're not at the brink of, ah, dissolution?"
"Dissolute, yes, whenever possible," Sterling said. "Dissolution? Not hardly."
Sterling made a gesture that encompassed the office and the view. "This look like dissolution?"
"All it proves is they haven't evicted you," I said.
Sterling laughed out loud.
"A hard man is good to find," he said when he had stopped laughing.
"You want me to look into this a little?" I said. "See if I can fix it?"
"I wish someone would fix Francis Ronan," he said.
"Yes or no?"
"What do you charge?"
"Pro bono," I said.
"Well, the damn price is right, I guess. Sure, why not? You may as well take a whack at it."
"Okay. Who's your lawyer."
He shook his head.
"You don't have a lawyer?"
"Haven't got to it yet," he said. "Thought I'd wait until there was an actual court date. No point in paying some guy to shuffle papers for a month."
"Sometimes if a good lawyer shuffles them right, you don't have to go to court."
"Oh," he said, "a good lawyer."
And he leaned back in his chair and put his head back and laughed again. It was a big laugh and sounded completely genuine.
"I'll need the names of the plaintiffs," I said.
"Sure. I had Patti start a file on this. Ask her for a copy."
I stood. He stood. We shook hands.
"Give Susan a kiss for me," he said.
"No," I said.
chapter three
HAWK WAS SIPPING champagne at the corner of the bar in the Casablanca in Harvard Square and saving the bar stool next to him for me. As far as I could tell, no one had contested the seat.
"I ordered us a mess of pan-fried oysters," Hawk said. "Figured you could use the protein."
Jimmy the bartender looked at me and pointed to the Foster's tap. I nodded.
"Been here before?" Hawk said.
"Susan and I come here."
Jimmy brought the beer.
"Irish," Hawk said.
"His name is James Santo Costagnozzi," I said.
"Bad luck," Hawk said. "To look Irish when you not."
"Unless you're trying to pass," I said.
"Nobody trying to pass for Irish," Hawk said.
"Is that an ethnic slur?" I said.
"Believe so," Hawk said.
The pan-fried oysters arrived and we ate some.
"Feelin' stronger?" Hawk said.
"Potent is my middle name," I said.
"Always wondered," Hawk said. "How you doing with Susan's ex?"
"I met him today," I said.
"Umm," Hawk said.
"Umm?"
"Umm."
"What the hell does `umm' mean?"
"Means how'd you feel talking with Susan's ex-husband."
"He seemed like kind of a goofball to me."
"Umm."
"His name was Silverman," I said. "He changed it to Sterling."
"Cute."
We ate some more oysters.
"He's got that sort of Ivy League old money WASP goofiness that they have," I said.
"Silverman?"
"Sterling," I said.
"So he trying to pass."
"I'd say so."
"And succeeding," Hawk said.
"Yes. He's got it down cold. Bow ties, everything."
"Maybe he just like bow ties."
"Who just likes bow ties?" I said.
"Got a point," Hawk said. "How he measure up?"
"To what?"
"To you."
"No better than anybody else."
Hawk grinned.
"'Cept me," he said. "How you feel about him?"
"Something's wrong," I said. "Susan tells me he's at the verge of dissolution. He says he's doing grand and has the office to prove it."
"So somebody lying," Hawk said.
"Right."
"And it ain't Susan."
"Also right."
"How she know he is in a state of near dissolution?" Hawk said.
"Wow," I said. "You talk like an Ivy Leaguer yourself."
"Ah's been practicin'," Hawk said. "How she know?"
"I assume he told her."
"So he either lying to her, or lying to you."
"And he hasn't got much reason to tell her he's going under if he's not," I said.
"'Less he looking for sympathy."
"He's got no reason to," I said. "He's two, three wives past her."
"So why he go tell her his troubles?"
"Well, she's a good one if you need some help."
"How long since he seen her?"
I shrugged. "Maybe twenty years. She was already divorced when I met her."
"And now he decides she's a good listener?"
"Umm," I said.
"'Tha's right," Hawk said.
We were quiet. Someone was playing The Platters on the jukebox. In the corner of the bar up high a hockey game played silently on television. The perfect compromise.
"Maybe knew about you," Hawk said.
"He wanted me he could walk into my office and tell me his problem," I said.
"And you'd do it free?"
I drank a little beer.
"You sound almost cynical," I said.
"Be the ghet-to experience," Hawk said, rolling the word ghetto into two long syllables. "Ah'm fighting to overcome it."
"So he knows about me and he needs help and he figures he can get it for nothing if he goes to Susan and cries dissolution."
"And it worked," Hawk said.
"If you're right," I said.
"Sure," Hawk said. "How you feel 'bout working for Susan's former husband?"
I shrugged. "Water over the dam," I said.
"Sure it is, and it really was the tooth fairy left all those quarters under your pillow."
"Got nothing to do with me," I said.
"That's true. But I know you, some of you, maybe not even Susan know. The hard part. Part makes you almost as good as me."
"Better," I said automatically.
"It ain't no water over no dam for that part," Hawk said.
I finished my beer. Jimmy brought me another pint. " 'Course it's not," I said.
Hawk smiled. "Umm," he said.
"You got that right," I said.
"So you going to help him?"
"I told Susan I would."
"You think this sexual harassment suit be the problem?"
"Be surprised," I said. "But it's a place to start."
"Should we have some more oysters?" Hawk said.
"We'd be fools not to," I said.
chapter four
MARCH WAS STILL chilly enough for a fire and I had one going in Susan's apartment when she came upstairs from her last appointment of the day. Pearl the Wonder Dog was lying on the rug in front of it, and I was on the couch with a bottle of my new favorite, Blue Moon Belgian White Ale, that Susan kept for me. It was not hard to locate. The only other thing in the refrigerator was a head of broccoli and two cans of Diet Coke.
Susan came in wearing her subdued professional wardrobe-dark suit, tailored blouse, understated makeup, little jewelry. When she was off duty she dressed far more flamboyantly. But she generated such intensity that dressing up or down made little difference.
Pearl got up at once, took a silk cushion from the wing chair, and carried it around wagging her tail. When Susan got that attended to, she got a bottle of Merlot out of the kitchen cabinet, poured half a glass, and brought it over to the couch. She plopped down beside me, put her feet up on the coffee table, leaned her head over, and kissed me lightly on the mouth.