First one of the day, she said and took a sip and smiled. Always the best one.
I sipped my scotch, and nodded.
Youre right, I said. Tell me about Marvin Conroy.
She didnt flinch. She sat perfectly still with her martini and met my look. She had great eyes, not as great as Susans, but just as well made up, and there are degrees of greatness.
What do you wish to know? she said.
That was good. No whos-martin-conroy? She had already understood that if I didnt know something I wouldnt be asking about him. Evasion would make it look worse. So she did the best she could in a difficult circumstance.
A pleasure to observe a good legal mind, I said. Youve remained noncommittal and your question puts it back on me. The more I say, the more youll know what I know.
She smiled to acknowledge the compliment and sipped her martini. Neither of us said anything for a moment.
My problem, I said finally, is that I dont know what I wish to know.
She nodded and was quiet.
So Ill tell you what I do know, I said.
I took another pull on my drink. Shed made it well. A lot of ice, the proper balance of scotch with soda. Be nice to drink several of them with her. I leaned back a little and put my feet up on the hassock.
Heres what I know. Marvin Conroy is an executive at Pequod Savings and Loan, which was Nathan Smiths bank and had been in the family since before Pocahontas. When I went to ask about Smiths death, I talked to a PR woman named Amy Peters, who is now dead. Conroy refused to talk about it. After I talked with him, some people tried, unsuccessfully I might add, to kill me.
Ann Kiley cocked her head a little as if she were glad to hear I hadnt died.
You represent Jack DeRosa, who says Mary Smith asked him to kill Nathan Smith. So both you and Conroy are connected to Nathan Smith in some way.
Six degrees of separation, Ann murmured.
Her drink was gone. So was mine. She got up, collected my glass, went to the bar, and mixed us each another drink.
Last night, I said, Marvin Conroy came here and spent the night.
Ann Kiley smiled again without meaning anything by it. I waited. She waited. I waited longer.
And your question? she said.
Was it good for you, too? I said.
Dont be offensive.
Part of my skill set, I said. What can you tell me that will help me with my work?
And your work is?
To find out who killed Nathan Smith.
Even if its his wife?
Even, I said.
I was under the impression you were hired to clear her, Ann said.
Whats the connection between you and Conroy and Smith and DeRosa?
The connection between me and Marvin Conroy must be obvious if you know he spent the night, Ann said.
Un-huh.
Jack DeRosa is my client.
Un-huh.
That they are both connected in some way to Nathan Smith is a coincidence.
Un-huh.
You dont believe in coincidence?
It doesnt get me anywhere, I said.
She nodded. I noticed her second drink was not going down
nearly as quick as her first.
And where are you trying to get? she said.
How come you represent Jack DeRosa? I said.
He needed a lawyer.
And you were hanging around the public defenders office smiling hopefully? I said.
Every lawyer has a responsibility to the law, she said.
So howd DeRosa happen to hire you? I said. You bill more per hour than DeRosas life is worth.
Arrangements with clients are confidential.
How about Conroy? What can you tell me about him?
She smiled. Relationships with friends are confidential.
If theres something, Ms. Kiley, Im going to find it.
You dont frighten me, Mr. Spenser.
Why not?
Mr. Spenser, she said, you are a little man in a big arena. You simply dont matter.
What about my nice personality? I said.
It doesnt interest me, Ann Kiley said. Neither do you. Go away.
That seemed to sort of cover it. I put my drink down carefully on its coaster, got my hat and coat from the front hall closet, and left. Ann Kiley didnt see me to the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Belson called me at home, early. It was still a half hour before sunrise and the morning was still gray outside my bedroom window.
Im at a crime scene in your neighborhood, Belson said. Wanna stop by?
Because youve missed me and you want to see me? I said.
Corner of Berkeley and Commonwealth, Belson said. Ill look for you.
I walked over. There were the usual too many cop cars, lights still flashing. Two technicians were loading a body bag into the coroners van. Belson in a light raincoat and a gray scally cap was leaning against his unmarked car, talking to one of the uniform guys. As I walked over, the uniform left.
Hit and run, Belson said as I stopped beside him. Vics name is Brinkman Tyler.
I know him, I said.
Yeah. He had your card in his wallet.
Just mine?
Hell no, he must have kept every card he ever got.
But you called me, I said.
Ive missed you, Belson said. And I wanted to see you.
What happened? I said.
Near as we can figure, Brinkman was out jogging on the mall toward Arlington Street. He started across Berkeley Street and the car nailed him.
Find the car?