Cold Service

22

"WE'RE REALLY ON a roll," I said to Hawk. "Everybody we talk to is either dead or wants to kill us."

" 'Cept maybe Zippity Duda."

"What's your guess?" I said.

"Him, too," Hawk said.

Hawk drove as he did everything else, as if he were born to do it. And the Navigator moved through the snow-clogged traffic like a Porsche.

"Like to talk with them Ukrainians," Hawk said.

"They don't seem too welcoming," I said.

"Need a translator," Hawk said. "Like in Port City."

"I think Mei Ling, she was hot for you."

" 'Course she was," Hawk said.

"Also, she was Chinese," I said.

"I noticed that," Hawk said.

"So she probably wouldn't do well with Ukrainian."

"You honkies always thinking up reasons why us black folks can't do what we wants."

"Wants?" I said.

"Ah is working on my accent," Hawk said.

"No need," I said. "I know you're black."

"Maybe Susan know somebody at Harvard," Hawk said.

"Cops got a guy from Harvard," I said.

"How long he last," Hawk said.

"Twenty minutes," I said.

Hawk nodded silently. We were westbound on Mass. Ave now, approaching the Back Bay.

"Well, be nice to have a translator 'case we come across something to translate."

We crossed Columbus Ave, past the community center where the Hi Hat once stood. I remembered it as being upstairs. Symphony Sid had done his radio show from there. Illinois Jacquette had played there. Across Columbus, we went past the Savoy, where I'd listened to Wild Bill Davidson, and across Huntington Ave, and on past Symphony Hall.

"Ives," I said.

"Ives?" Hawk said.

"The spook," I said.

"What about him?"

We stopped for the light at Boylston Street. It was as law-abiding as Hawk ever got.

"He'll know somebody speaks Ukrainian," I said.

"And he going to help us out, why?" Hawk said.

"Because he thinks we're a couple of righteous guys?" "Sure he do," Hawk said.

The light changed. We crossed Boylston.

"I'll talk to him," I said.

At Beacon Street, Hawk turned left and after another block or so went up the ramp to Storrow Drive where we headed west past B.U. along the river.

"I gather we're not picking up Cecile," I said.

"She say she'll meet us at Susan's," Hawk said.

On our right, the river was mostly frozen over, with maybe a little open water here and there in the middle. The snow on the frozen parts was already beginning to grime, and the open water in the middle looked iron-cold.

"Be nice to find out a little about Tony's daughter," I said.

"Would," Hawk said.

"If he's got a daughter."

"If," Hawk said.

"Know anything about that?"

"No," Hawk said. "You?"

"How the hell would I know?" I said. "I'm the white guy."

"Oh, yes," Hawk said. "Thank you so much for reminding me."

The ugly elevation of the Mass. Pike was to our left, and beyond it what used to be Braves Field, now part of B.U., with high-rise dorms built around it. There used to be a ballpark right there.

"He got an ex-wife," Hawk said.

"She have a daughter?"

"Don't know," Hawk said. "She's a lesbian."

"Really?" I said. "She know that when she married Tony?"

"Don't think either of them did," Hawk said.

"You know where the ex-wife is?"

"I know people who know."

"Maybe you should ask them."

"By heavens," Hawk said. "I think I shall."

"Christ," I said. "One minute Stepinfetchit. The next Noлl Coward."

"Ah embraces diversity," Hawk said.

We went over the Anderson Bridge and skirted Harvard Square. In another five minutes we pulled into Susan's driveway, which someone had thoughtfully plowed.

"She ain't going to cook, is she?" Hawk said.

"I hope not," I said. "Can Cecile cook?"

"I don't know," Hawk said.

"Let's hope for order out," I said.