I was drinking beer from the bottle, and Susan had a plastic glass of pinot grigio. We were sitting on the deck of the Institute of Contemporary Art in South Boston. Generally I found the art at the Institute somewhat too contemporary for me. I was more a Hudson River School guy. But the view of the Boston waterfront along the curve of the harbor was peerless. And in nice weather, we both liked to sit there and look at it.
“Wouldn’t it be wiser for the Lopatas to wait?” Susan said. “I should think it would make their case stronger if he were convicted in criminal court.”
“One would think,” I said.
A big glassy excursion boat full of people drunk in the mid-afternoon cruised past us, heading for a tour of the harbor and islands.
“And maybe they wouldn’t need to sue,” Susan said.
“If they were after revenge,” I said.
Susan sipped a small amount of white wine.
“Yes,” Susan said. “If the criminal trial seemed to be a miscarriage of justice, then you could bring civil suit, try for some justice.”
“Seems so,” I said.
“But if you wanted money...” Susan said.
“Then maybe you’d get right to it,” I said. “Greed being what it is.”
“It seems to argue that justice is not the motivation,” Susan said.
“Does,” I said. “Of course, human motivation is generally more than one thing.”
“How do you know that?”
“Close observation of the human condition,” I said.
“Uh-huh?”
“And you told me,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
Some gulls sat alertly on the pilings, watching people eat. Occasionally, for no apparent reason, one would suddenly unfold his wings and sweep into the air. Then he would fly off, and return. Of course, since gulls look very much alike, I couldn’t say for sure if it was the same gull.
“Do you think they can win?” Susan said.
“Not with Corky Corrigan running their suit,” I said.
“Not even if Morris Hardy steps in?” Susan said.
“Morris Hardy will step in to take his third of the fee, if Corky manages to win,” I said.
“Maybe Jumbo’s people will settle.”
“Probably,” I said. “Which is what probably attracted Morris Hardy and his law offices in the first place.”
“Because,” Susan said, “he knows that Jumbo’s people want all this to go away before the world finds out what Jumbo really is.”
“Not calculus,” I said.
“Can you do calculus?” Susan said.
“No.”
“Do you actually know what calculus is?” Susan said.
“No.”
“Me either,” she said.
“And you a Harvard girl,” I said.
“It’s distasteful, isn’t it?” Susan said.
“Calculus?” I said.
“That, too,” she said. “But I meant the lawsuit.”
“Distasteful,” I said.
“Yes,” Susan said. “I mean, I know it does the dead daughter no harm, and they might need the money, but... would you do it?”
“No.”
“I’d do it to try and get even,” Susan said. “For revenge. But for the money? No.”
“Maybe they’re doing it for revenge,” I said. “Maybe they’re trying to goose the criminal justice system.”
“Or maybe it’s the money,” Susan said.
“Maybe.”
We were quiet for a time, looking at the gulls and the boat traffic, and the cityscape across the water.
Susan said, “Something I keep meaning to ask you. It doesn’t seem important, which is why I probably keep forgetting, but it’s bothered me since you started talking about the case.”
“Maybe you keep forgetting because you are lost in adoration of me,” I said. “And it preoccupies you.”
Susan nodded.
“That is often a problem,” she said. “But in those moments when I can focus elsewhere... As you recall, I used to live in Smithfield.”
“I believe it’s where we met.”
“Yes,” she said. “Anyway, I always have wondered how she got from Smithfield to Boston.”
“Dawn Lopata,” I said.
“Yes.”
I was silent for a moment.
Then I said, “Why do you ask?”
“Well, there’s no public transportation in Smithfield. She’d have to drive. And if she drove, where’s her car?”
“Maybe she went with friends,” I said.
“The day she met Jumbo,” Susan said, “wasn’t she with college friends who live in Boston?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“Maybe they picked her up,” I said.
“Maybe,” Susan said. “Either of them own a car?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Another thing,” Susan said, “that makes me wonder, is what I know about girls.”
“You’ve had some experience at being one,” I said.
“And treating many,” Susan said. “I think if she were going to visit a movie star in his hotel room, she would go home first and shower and put on clean clothes as appropriate.”
“You think?” I said.
“If nothing else,” Susan said, “she’d want to shave her legs.”
“Maybe she did all that in the morning, before she went to see the shoot,” I said.
“On the off chance that one of the movie stars would invite her to his room for sex?” Susan said.
I shrugged.
“Ever hopeful?” I said.
“That could certainly be described as optimistic,” Susan said.
“It could,” I said.
“Probably nothing,” Susan said. “But I’m curious. And I wanted to mention it.”
“I’m curious, too,” I said.
“Good,” Susan said.
I had finished my beer.
“Shall I get us another drink?” I said.
“No,” Susan said. “I think I need you to take me home, now.”
“How come?” I said.
She smiled at me the way Eve must have smiled at Adam when she handed him the apple.
“I want to shave my legs,” she said.