Widow’s Walk

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Hawk was in my office when I returned. He was sitting in my chair with his feet up on my desk, reading Simon Schama’s History of Britain.

“You interested in British history?” I said when I came in.

“Naw. Read this dude’s book on Rembrandt. I like him.”

“Lot of big words,” I said.

“Thought you could help me.”

“White man’s burden,” I said. “Gimme my chair.”

Hawk grinned and dog-eared his page and closed the book and got up and came around and plonked in a client chair. I sat at my desk.

“There,” I said. “You looking for a place to sleep?”

“Nope. Since I ain’t following anybody for you at the moment, and since somebody tried to shoot your ass the other night, I thought maybe I should hang around with you, case somebody try again.”

“Plus,” I said, “you could learn a lot.”

“Be a privilege,” Hawk said. “Whyn’t you bring me up to date on what you doing, so I’ll know who to shoot.”

I did. Hawk listened without expression, his face the pleasantly impenetrable blank it always was.

“You got more information than you can handle,” Hawk said when I got through.

“I do,” I said.

“‘Course it easy for you to have too much information.”

“How about yourself,” I said. “You make anything out of it?”

Hawk grinned at me. “I’m just a simple thug,” he said. “I ain’t supposed to make nothing out of it.”

“That may be true of me,” I said.

“Simple thug?”

“Yeah.”

“Thing is, all of the stuff you know doesn’t add up to who done what.”

“That is the thing,” I said.

“You tell Mary her husband was gay?”

“No.”

“Rita gonna find out about Smith’s finances for you?”

“Yes.”

“When she do you’ll have more information.”

“And I still won’t know anything.”

“Be used to that,” Hawk said. “You think Mary lying, or you think the Brinkster call himself?”

“If he did,” I said, “it would be sort of a stopgap. He had to know I’d ask her myself pretty soon.”

“Maybe he figure you ain’t around, pretty soon.”

“Because he knew somebody would hit me,” I said.

Hawk nodded. “Or maybe he did call her,” he said. “And she lying when she say he didn’t.”

“Which might mean the same thing,” I said. “Except she’s so goddamned dumb.”

“Dumb enough to think you wouldn’t check on her?”

“She gets by with dumb,” I said. “She uses it. She may even rely on it.”

“There got to be some money in here someplace,” Hawk said.

“See, that’s just the reason you’re a hooligan and I’m a detective,” I said. “You jump to conclusions. I search for clues.”

“Here’s a clue,” Hawk said. “A banker, a financial guy, a real estate developer, and a lawyer. All connected in some way to a homicide.”

“Gee, you think there’s money involved?”

“How I know. You the detective. I is just a hoo-li-gan.”

“At least we’re clear on that,” I said. “Maybe we should revisit Jack DeRosa.”

“The jailbird? Why him?”

“Can’t think of anybody else?” I said.

Hawk grinned.

“‘Least he fit on the list,” hawk said. “Right after lawyer.”