"Isn't it a lot?" she said.

"We can help," I said.

"We can't solve nothing," Hawk said, "but we good eaters.".

Susan speared a clam, dipped the end of it in cocktail sauce, bit off the sauced corner, and chewed it thoughtfully.

"What I can't figure out," she said after she'd swallowed, "is how you start out looking for Bibi Anaheim and end up in a shootout with some Russian gangsters."

"We can't figure that out either," I said.

"Steak's good. You want a bite?"

Susan shook her head.

"Do you think they'll try again?"

"Got no way to know," I said.

"Except that whoever wanted you dead didn't get what they wanted," Susan said.

"Except that," I said.

"Aren't you worried about it?"

I shrugged.

"What kind of gun are you carrying tonight?" Susan said.

"Browning," I said.

"The one that's heavier and more uncomfortable to carry, but it will shoot a lot of bullets before you have to reload."

"Thirteen in the clip, one in the chamber."

Susan nodded slowly while she looked at me.

"What do you think?" she said to Hawk.

"Think I'll stick around," Hawk said.

"That would make me feel better," Susan said.

"Make anyone feel better," Hawk said.

Susan smiled and ate the rest of her clam.

"I can't eat all of this," she said.

"Maybe the baby would like some."

"You going to give it to the dog?" Hawk said.

"She's a good eater too," Susan said.

CHAPTER 44

Hawk had on a dark blue serge suit and a collarless white linen shirt. His shaved head gleamed. His black ankle boots gleamed at the other end. He had one of my office chairs tipped back against the wall to my left, and he was sitting in it reading a book called Remembering Denny, by Calvin Trillin. I was at my desk trying to learn how to say "you'll never get me, you dirty rat," in Russian.

"You got a plan yet?" Hawk said without looking up from his book.

"We could hide in here with the door locked, sleep in shifts." – "I thought of that," Hawk said.

The phone rang.

"Be nice if we could figure out which anthill we stepped in," I said.

"Yeah, be great, we could call them names while we sleeping in shifts."

"We know who they are, we might know what to do."

The phone rang again.

"Be a nice change," Hawk said.

I nodded and picked up the phone.

"Da?" I said.

"I want to speak to Spenser," a voice said.

"Speaking," I said.

"You was working out in Vegas in September," the voice said.

"Yeah."

"With a big black guy, bald head?"

"Actually he's not bald, he shaves his head."

"Same difference," he said.

"My name is Bernard J. Fortunate, you remember me?"

I slid my desk drawer open and looked at the business card I had put there more than a month ago. It said Bernard J. Fortunato.

Investigator, Professional and Discreet.

"Yeah," I said.

"Little guy with a Panama hat and a short Colt."

"I'm compact," he said.

"Sure," I said.

"That's what I meant to say, compact guy with a Panama hat and a compact Colt."

"You still interested in a broad named Bibi Anaheim?" he said.

"What makes you think I'm interested?" I said.

"I don't think. I know," Fortunate said.

"Okay, how do you know it?"

"Because I pay fucking attention," Fortunato said.

"I look, I ask questions. You still interested in her or not."

"Yeah, I am."

"She's back in Vegas," Fortunate said.

"Now?"

"Right now," he said.

"Where?"

"She's staying at the Debbie Reynolds Hotel and Casino."

"You've seen her?"

"Yeah."

"And you recognized her?"

"I told you. I pay attention. It's my business."

"You tell her husband?" I said.

"No."

"I thought you worked for him."

"I did. He hired me to keep an eye out in Vegas for a guy named Anthony Meeker. Said if I spotted you, you might lead me to him.

Told me where to pick you up."

"Which you did."

"Right."

"And we did."

"Right," Fortunate said.

"Then I kept an eye on him until Anaheim showed up in person."

"And you rented him a hotel room in your name."

"Yeah, and he stiffed me on it, and he stiffed me on the job," Fortunate said.

"And after he popped you one on the kisser, I figure you and him ain't pals so I'm telling you what I seen."

"To get even?"

"You interested or no?"

"Interested," I said.

"You want to work for me?"

"I'm in business."

"Good, keep an eye on Bibi Anaheim until I get there. If she leaves follow her."

"Expenses?"

"Guaranteed," I said.

"Even if she goes to like, Paris?"

"Even then," I said.

"You want to know what I charge?"

"No."

"I ain't getting burned again. I give you the numbers you wire money to my account today. I don't get it today, I drop the broad like a bad habit."

"Spenser's the name, cash is the game, where you want it sent?"

He told me the amount and how to send it. Lucky I was bucks up.

CHAPTER 45

Joe Broz still kept an office in the financial district with an executive-level view of the harbor. There were still a couple of hard cases lounging around in the outer office, working on their relaxed tough guy look. And Joe himself still had a little left of the old theatricality. But this time when I went into his white office he was an old man. The changes weren't so much physical as attitudinal.

As if he had decided to be old. He had arranged himself in front of the big picture window behind his desk, his back to the door, a dark form without detail against the bright morning light that came through the eastward-looking window. When I came in he didn't move while I closed the door behind me and walked to a chair and sat down in front of his desk. I waited for a while. Finally, Joe turned slowly from the window to look at me. He had on a dark blue suit, a dark blue shirt, and a powder blue tie. He should have been nipping a silver dollar.

He said, "How long I known you, Spenser?"

"Long time," I said.

"You got a smart mouth. You think you're God's gift to the fucking universe. And you been a pain in my ass since I knew you."

"Nice of you to remember, Joe."

"I shoulda put you in the ground a long time ago."

"But you didn't," I said.

"Half the people I know are dead and most of the others are gone, and you keep showing up."

"Good to be able to count on something, isn't it?"

Broz walked stiffly from the window and lowered himself gingerly into the chair behind his desk. He put the palms of his hands carefully together and rested his chin lightly against his fingertips.

He took in some air and let it out slowly through his nose.