"I'll just tell them you did forty-two reps with two hundred fifty and they'll surrender without a struggle."
"Or I could shoot them," Hawk said.
"That would be effective," I said.
On our way to the steam room we passed Henry who was working with a new client.
"No ma'am," he was saying. "Most women don't bulk up from exercise."
chapter twelve
"Just what did you do to these women?" I said to Brad Sterling, "that caused them to bring suit against you?"
We were at an outdoor cafe on Newbury Street. I was drinking beer. Sterling had a glass of Chartreuse. It was sixty degrees with no wind. Almost April. Spring. Yippee.
"Nothing," Sterling said. "That's the damned shame of it. I didn't do anything. The case is ridiculous."
"You are being charged with sexual harassment by the wife of the most prominent trial lawyer in the country," I said. "Whether you did anything or not, the case is not ridiculous."
"Oh hell," he said. "I may have kidded them a little. They liked it. You see a lovely girl, what can be the harm, letting her know she's lovely?"
"Do you have a lawyer yet?" I said.
"No. I told you the case is ridiculous. Give it a little time, and it'll toddle off to memory land."
"The hell it will," I said. "I've talked to Ronan. He's in earnest."
"Well, I'm not hiring some legal eagle to fiddle and diddle until he turns this into a case that he can retire on."
"I can put you in touch with a really good lawyer," I said, "who will neither fiddle nor diddle."
"I don't need him."
"Her. Rita Fiore. Used to be a prosecutor."
"She a looker?" Sterling said and smiled and wiggled his eyebrows like Groucho Marx and flicked the ash from an imaginary cigar.
"Oh good," I said. "'That'll knock 'em dead in court."
Sterling laughed.
"We'll never get to court," he said. "You can bet your biscuits."
He drank some Chartreuse. Then he lowered his voice and said, "Don't look right now, but there's a man across the street watching us."
"Black man?" I said. "Big, shaved head, shades."
"Yes."
"He's on our side," I said.
"Well, what the hell is he doing over there?"
"Couple of guys came by my office the other day, threatened me if I didn't drop your case."
"Threatened you?"
"Offered me a bribe first."
"And you wouldn't take the bribe."
"Yeah."
"Well, that's damned white of you, Spenser, I must say. Noble, sort of."
"You should probably try to avoid using the word `white' as an accolade," I said.
"What? Oh hell, Spenser, it's just a damned phrase. So is the Negro a body guard?"
"Not exactly," I said. "I thought it might be useful while I was with you to see if anybody was watching us. Apparently not."
"How can you tell."
"Because if there were someone, you wouldn't see Hawk."
"That's his name?"
"Uh huh. So give me an example of how you kidded these women."
"Boy, you don't give up, do you. Suzy Q got herself a good one."
"Suzy Q?"
Sterling shrugged and laughed and made his little dismissive hand motion.
"I'm glad she got a good one," he said. "She deserves it."
"You touch any of these woman?" I said.
"Hell no."
"They work for you?"
"Haven't we already gone over this ground?" Sterling said.
"I was hoping to find out something this time over," I said.
Sterling grinned at me and sipped his Chartreuse and tipped his head back in pleasure at the taste.
"They work for you?" I said.
"As I mentioned," Sterling said and took any sting out of it by grinning broadly, "these are volunteers. I directed them, in the sense that I was in charge of the whole bubble bath, but none of them was"-he made air quote marks with his fingertips-"working for me."
"So you didn't touch them. You made no sexual innuendoes at them. You didn't use your position of power to create a sexually hostile environment?" Sterling laughed happily.
"Whoa," he said. "A `sexually hostile environment'? Holy moley."
"So why did four women suddenly get it into their heads to bring charges against you?" I said.
He got a leather cigar case out of his inside jacket pocket and opened it and offered me one. I shook my head. He took out a long dark cigar and put the case away. With a small pocket knife he trimmed the cigar, put it in his mouth, and lit it carefully, turning it slowly to get the ignition even. When it was going right, he took a big inhale, let the smoke out slowly.
"Maybe it was that time of month," Sterling said, "and they were cranky."
Again the big infectious grin to take any sting out of his words.
"Do you suppose they threatened you because they know they've got no case?"
"You figure it was the four women who sent the sluggers?" I said.
"Or her husband," Sterling said, looking at the end of his cigar, admiring the glow. "He used to be a criminal lawyer, I heard. He'd probably know somebody."
" `Her,' meaning Jeanette Ronan," I said.
"Sure."
"Why her rather than, say, Olivia Hanson, or Marcia Albright, or Penny Putnam?"
"By golly, Miss Molly," Sterling said, "you are a detective, aren't you?"
I thought about getting up and going home. I could almost see myself standing and walking off down Newbury Street. I knew if I really could have seen myself walking away I would have looked happy. But I wasn't walking away. I was sitting here trying not to inhale the smoke that spiraled my way from his large cigar.