Read Cold Service for Free Online Page B
Authors: Robert B. Parker
a week off. He'll be back next week."
"When he get back," Hawk said, "I want to see him. Have him call my faithful ofay."
I took a business card out and put it on Husak's desk.
"He call me and we all have a civilized discussion. He don't call me, you go out the window, and so does he."
"Yeah. He'll call. Honest to God he'll call, I know he will."
Hawk went around the desk and closed the window. Husak's face pinched and unpinched.
"Don't tell anyone it was me that talked," Husak said.
Hawk nodded as though his mind was elsewhere.
"You have no idea what these people are like. They aren't like other people. They find out I talked to you, they'll chop me up into pieces."
"Who'll do the chopping," Hawk said.
"Some Ukrainian," Husak said. "They're like from the fucking Stone Age, you know? I wish I never seen any of them."
"I find out you're lying to me," Hawk said, "I'll make sure they know you was talking."
"Everything I told you is the truth, so help me God."
"The whole truth?" Hawk said.
"So help me God," Husak said.
Hawk looked at me.
"Got a nice legal sound, don't it," Hawk said.
15
WE WALKED ALONG Boylston Street toward the new parking garage in Millennium Place. Traffic had become so desperate in Boston during the Big Dig that even the good hydrants were taken.
"Would you have dropped him?" I said.
"Don't have to decide now," Hawk said. "Who's Boots Podolak?"
"The mayor of Marshport," I said.
"Didn't know they had a mayor," Hawk said.
"City of eighty thousand," I said.
"Knew it was big enough," Hawk said. "Didn't know it was civilized."
"Boots isn't much of a civilizing influence," I said. "Mayor is just the official title. Actually, he's the owner."
"Eighty thousand," Hawk said.
"Yep."
"How many white?"
"Boots and his management team," I said. "And a small immigrant Ukrainian population."
"Rest of the plantation?"
"African and Hispanic," I said.
"How Boots pull that off?" Hawk said.
"Marshport used to be mostly middle European. Boots is a holdover."
"What kind of name is that?" Hawk said. "Marshport?"
He flattened the a and dropped the r 's in parody of the local accent.
I said, "Named after some prominent family, I think."
"Why you suppose Boots hiring lawyers for Ukrainians?" Hawk said.
"Podolak might be Ukrainian," I said.
"Or Polish," Hawk said.
"Didn't parts of Ukraine used to be Polish?" I said. "Or vice versa?"
"You asking me?" Hawk said. "You the one sleeping with a Harvard grad."
"And Cecile?" I said.
"The med school," Hawk said. "They just know 'bout corpuscles and shit. Susan got a damn Ph.D."
"You seen Cecile lately?" I said.
"Yes," Hawk said.
We were waiting now for the elevator down to our parking level. There were things you pressed Hawk on, and things you didn't. They didn't belong to categories. One had to sense subtleties of tone and posture to know which was which. Cecile was a no press.
"Maybe Boots is in on it with the Ukrainians," I said. "Moving in on Tony."
"Expand the plantation?" Hawk said.
I shrugged.
"Think it be more like the other way around, wouldn't you," Hawk said.
"Tony moving in on a black city?"
"Un-huh."
"You would think that," I said.
" 'Cept far as we can tell it ain't so."
"Far as we can tell," I said.
"You know Boots?" Hawk said when we were in his car.
"Yes."
"He remember you?"
"He would," I said.
"Fondly?" Hawk said.
"No," I said.
"You know where we can find him?" Hawk said.
"Yep."
"Then let's go see him."
"Okay," I said.
Hawk pulled onto the last block of Boylston Street.
"Think we can get there from here?"
"Just barely," I said.
16
MARSHPORT CITY HALLwas one of those handsome, ornate civic buildings that people built in the nineteenth century out of brownstone and brick. It had the affluent, satisfied look of the upper middle class it was built for and was probably the best-looking thing in the city… except for me and Hawk, and we were only temporary. Inside was a lot of curving staircase, and dark wood, and
"When he get back," Hawk said, "I want to see him. Have him call my faithful ofay."
I took a business card out and put it on Husak's desk.
"He call me and we all have a civilized discussion. He don't call me, you go out the window, and so does he."
"Yeah. He'll call. Honest to God he'll call, I know he will."
Hawk went around the desk and closed the window. Husak's face pinched and unpinched.
"Don't tell anyone it was me that talked," Husak said.
Hawk nodded as though his mind was elsewhere.
"You have no idea what these people are like. They aren't like other people. They find out I talked to you, they'll chop me up into pieces."
"Who'll do the chopping," Hawk said.
"Some Ukrainian," Husak said. "They're like from the fucking Stone Age, you know? I wish I never seen any of them."
"I find out you're lying to me," Hawk said, "I'll make sure they know you was talking."
"Everything I told you is the truth, so help me God."
"The whole truth?" Hawk said.
"So help me God," Husak said.
Hawk looked at me.
"Got a nice legal sound, don't it," Hawk said.
15
WE WALKED ALONG Boylston Street toward the new parking garage in Millennium Place. Traffic had become so desperate in Boston during the Big Dig that even the good hydrants were taken.
"Would you have dropped him?" I said.
"Don't have to decide now," Hawk said. "Who's Boots Podolak?"
"The mayor of Marshport," I said.
"Didn't know they had a mayor," Hawk said.
"City of eighty thousand," I said.
"Knew it was big enough," Hawk said. "Didn't know it was civilized."
"Boots isn't much of a civilizing influence," I said. "Mayor is just the official title. Actually, he's the owner."
"Eighty thousand," Hawk said.
"Yep."
"How many white?"
"Boots and his management team," I said. "And a small immigrant Ukrainian population."
"Rest of the plantation?"
"African and Hispanic," I said.
"How Boots pull that off?" Hawk said.
"Marshport used to be mostly middle European. Boots is a holdover."
"What kind of name is that?" Hawk said. "Marshport?"
He flattened the a and dropped the r 's in parody of the local accent.
I said, "Named after some prominent family, I think."
"Why you suppose Boots hiring lawyers for Ukrainians?" Hawk said.
"Podolak might be Ukrainian," I said.
"Or Polish," Hawk said.
"Didn't parts of Ukraine used to be Polish?" I said. "Or vice versa?"
"You asking me?" Hawk said. "You the one sleeping with a Harvard grad."
"And Cecile?" I said.
"The med school," Hawk said. "They just know 'bout corpuscles and shit. Susan got a damn Ph.D."
"You seen Cecile lately?" I said.
"Yes," Hawk said.
We were waiting now for the elevator down to our parking level. There were things you pressed Hawk on, and things you didn't. They didn't belong to categories. One had to sense subtleties of tone and posture to know which was which. Cecile was a no press.
"Maybe Boots is in on it with the Ukrainians," I said. "Moving in on Tony."
"Expand the plantation?" Hawk said.
I shrugged.
"Think it be more like the other way around, wouldn't you," Hawk said.
"Tony moving in on a black city?"
"Un-huh."
"You would think that," I said.
" 'Cept far as we can tell it ain't so."
"Far as we can tell," I said.
"You know Boots?" Hawk said when we were in his car.
"Yes."
"He remember you?"
"He would," I said.
"Fondly?" Hawk said.
"No," I said.
"You know where we can find him?" Hawk said.
"Yep."
"Then let's go see him."
"Okay," I said.
Hawk pulled onto the last block of Boylston Street.
"Think we can get there from here?"
"Just barely," I said.
16
MARSHPORT CITY HALLwas one of those handsome, ornate civic buildings that people built in the nineteenth century out of brownstone and brick. It had the affluent, satisfied look of the upper middle class it was built for and was probably the best-looking thing in the city… except for me and Hawk, and we were only temporary. Inside was a lot of curving staircase, and dark wood, and