"Well, sir," I said, "I was just sitting in my car outside your founding church grounds up in Middleton and these two deacons came out and attacked me."
"And you had to protect yourself," Winston said.
I nodded.
"You did so successfully," Winston said. "Both men are hospitalized."
I made a sympathetic cluck.
"You had been parked outside there for several days. You had followed our courier vehicles when they went out. Previous to that you were making inquiries about a member of the church community from Mr. Owens."
"That's true," I said. I sipped a little more ale. Bitter. Good title for my memoirs--Bitter Ale.
"Mr. Owens informed you that the young woman was quite well and had sought sanctuary with us. You were unsatisfied, and you were asked to leave."
Winston's voice was rich and pleasant. The smell of his pipe tobacco was rich and pleasant. The house was rich and pleasant. So was Winston.
"Also true," I said.
"So the deacons were asked to make you stop what was viewed as harassment. Strategically that was sound. Tactically it was an error. You were more vigorous in your own defense than we had counted on."
"For my age," I said.
Winston smiled. "And now you are here," he said.
"Persistence."
"Better than skill sometimes," I said.
"I believe that's so," Winston said. "But I am afraid that I must support Mr. Owens. The concept of sanctuary is a very old one, and no church can treat it lightly. I believe that your concern is Miss Spellman's well-being. And I realize that a man like you trusts visible evidence and little else. Would my personal assurance of her happiness and safety suffice?"
"No."
Winston took his pipe from his mouth and held it in his right hand and rubbed his chin with his thumb, the pipe stem pointing obliquely away from him. His ale grew headless on the coffee table.
"What would satisfy you?" "See her, talk with her, alone."
"And perhaps to take her by force and, as the phrase has it so elegantly, de-program her?"
"No," I said. "If she's where she wants to be, she can stay."
"Then I'm to trust you?"
"We'll trust each other. We'll work out a setup where I see her alone, but in view. If she wants to leave, I walk out with her and you can see that it's voluntary. If she wants to stay, you bring her back and I can see that it's voluntary."
Winston puffed on his pipe. He did it expertly and the smoke floated gently away on the cool silent air. He nodded his head and smiled gently.
"It has a nice symmetry," he said. "But why should I agree to it? It is not our normal stance to compromise."
"Because I'll drive you whacko if you don't. I will find her. If she wants out, I will take her out. I'm sort of at loose ends these days, I got nothing else to do, and I am in a state of advanced ill humor. You'll be my hobby, take my mind off my troubles. In short, I will be a dreadful pain in the ass, Reverend, until I have this straightened out."
Winston smoked his pipe some more. "Do you have a business card, Mr. Spenser?" He seemed able to keep the terror out of his voice. I didn't seem to scare people as much as I used to.
I gave my card to Winston.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said. "And discuss what we've decided." He stood up. Dismissed.
We walked to the door. He told me he was glad I'd stopped by. Then he opened the door and closed it behind me. On Commonwealth Avenue I looked back at the house. The porch and the marble steps and the three-story façade with its violet windowpanes were rich and pleasant too. I wasn't.
CHAPTER 14
The Bay Tower Room is not in a high crime neighborhood. It is thirty floors above the city and looks out through floor-to-ceiling glass past the Custom House Tower at Boston Harbor. There is a lot of polished brass and gleaming oak, and an orchestra with a swing era sound. Hawk and Laura were there already. My date was not. Probably still home primping, maybe getting advice from her mom on how far to go on the first date.
Hawk wore a white linen summer suit and a blue and white striped shirt and a white silk tie. A blue show handkerchief poked out of his breast pocket. Laura had creamy skin and red hair. She wore a green summer dress with small white figures in it.
Laura said, "Hello, Edmund." She always called me Edmund, just as she always called Hawk Othello. She probably had cats she called Damon and Pythias.
Hawk nodded at me. I sat down. Laura said, "Katie will be a little late."
I looked around at the room. "Elegant," I said. "Last blind date I had we took a six-pack to the drive-in."
"How are you feeling," Laura said.
"Fine," I said.
Laura put a hand on my arm. "Come on. It will not be good if you keep it all in."
Hawk grinned. "Laura been reading Dr. Brothers again," he said.
Laura ignored him. "How are you really, Edmund?"
I felt a little spurt of anger. "Suspended," I said. "As in suspended animation."
"I think you should talk about it. It will help you."
The waitress came and we ordered.
"I do talk about it," I said. "But not with everyone."
She looked a little startled.
"I talk with him about it." I gestured with my chin toward Hawk. Laura looked more startled. "And with a friend of mine named Paul Giacomin. What I could actually use is practice not talking about it."
"Othello talks?" she said.
"Hard to believe, isn't it?" I said.
"Oh," Laura said. "Here's Katie."
Hawk stood. So did I. Katie had skin the color of a gingersnap and black hair worn long and a big charming smile. She was wearing a rose-colored jumpsuit tight at the ankles. Laura introduced us.
Katie said she'd heard a lot about me. I said I hoped she didn't believe most of it. We ordered a round of drinks. Katie asked me what my sign was. Hawk made a funny noise, and put his hands over his mouth and coughed.
"Down the wrong tube," he said when he stopped coughing. His eyes were very bright.
"I don't really know my sign," I said.
"I'm a Virgo," she said.
I nodded.
The captain came and took our food orders. The band played "Moon River." Katie was a reporter for a UHF station in town. The food came. One of Spenser's laws of dining is that in high restaurants the food never lives up to the view. I tried my dinner. Right again.
"Have any of you been able to get a real handle on the punk rock phenomenon?" Katie said.
Hawk's face was as amiably expressionless as it always was. But his eyes seemed to gleam brighter and brighter. He had a bite of lamb. "Can't say's I have," he said.
Laura said, "Well, clearly it is a creature of the tension it creates between itself and the orthodox world."
I nodded.
The band played "Blue Velvet." We all danced.
"You are a big one, aren't you," Katie said.
"Yes."
We had dessert.
Laura said that she would love to interview Hawk and me together sometime. She had a theory about poetry and violence that she wanted to try out on us.
We had some brandy.
Hawk looked at his watch. "Time to go," he said. "I gotta bookie I gotta threaten early tomorrow."
We all smiled. And got up. And went.
CHAPTER 15
I met Sherry Spellman at the International Food Fair at the Liberty Tree Shopper's Mall in Danvers. Owens brought her and four deacons came with him. I didn't recognize any of the deacons. Fresh troops. The food fair was a semi-circle of fast-food shops around a seating area full of tables. Owens and the deacons sat at a table near the Philly Mignon shop and Sherry joined me near Paco's Tacos.