Роберт Паркер - All Our Yesterdays

Parnell Flaherty and Mary Alice Burke lay naked in the early evening on the big couch in Flaherty’s office at City Hall. The door was locked and the building was quiet around them.

“Me,” Flaherty said, “Gus Sheridan. You got a buzz for married men, Mary Alice?”

“Except the one I was married to,” Mary Alice said.

“You balling anybody else?”

“Me to know,” Mary Alice said. “You to find out.”

Flaherty eased off the couch and stood and began to dress. Mary Alice continued to lie naked on the couch, watching him.

“I may have to fire Chris Sheridan,” Flaherty said.

Mary Alice shook her head.

“Make you look even worse,” Mary Alice said. “Remember McGovern in 72, a thousand percent behind Tom Eagleton and then replaced him on the ticket?”

“The papers are kicking the shit out of me,” Flaherty said. He was wearing red silk shorts. He put his white shirt on and began to button it, “We got to do something.”

“What? Appoint somebody else? You know it won’t make any difference. Gus says it requires patience.”

“Gus isn’t running for the Senate,” Flaherty said. He put on his red tie with the tiny white dots, and stood in front of the dark window to knot it.

“Gus says nothing will happen until they catch somebody in the act, and turn him,” Mary Alice said, “make him testify, and that will cause other people to turn and then it’ll unravel.”

Flaherty finished his tie and sat down on the edge of the couch next to Mary Alice. He picked up his socks and put one on and paused and rubbed her thigh.

“You still fucking Gus?” Flaherty said.

“Yes,” Mary Alice said.

“So how come you decided to fuck me too?”

“You’re irresistible?”

“I been irresistible for a long time.”

Mary Alice shrugged and patted his hand on her thigh.

“Gus’s attention is beginning to flag.”

“So you decided to develop bench strength?” Flaherty said.

Mary Alice smiled. “I suppose you could say it that way.”

Flaherty laughed out loud. He bent over and put on his other sock and stood and got into his trousers. He was still laughing as he shrugged his shoulders into his bright suspenders.

“I’m in fucking reserve,” he said.

“In more ways than one,” Mary Alice said. “No offense.”

Still standing, Flaherty slid his feet into his shoes, and put one foot up on the coffee table to tie the laces.

“Hell, no,” Flaherty said. “I admire a practical person.” He shifted feet. “But why me?”

“You’re irresistible?”

“You don’t do things because you can’t resist,” Flaherty said as he straightened up.

“I like strong men,” she said.

“Ahh.”

Flaherty slipped into his suit jacket. It was dark blue, a good suit, all his clothes were good, and he was built to wear clothes well. He checked himself in the dark window. “They talk about star fuckers. You’re a power fucker. You fuck a cop, it’s the homicide commander. You fuck a politician, it’s the mayor. Your father a power guy?”

Mary Alice shrugged. “I don’t know my father,” she said.

“But you’re always looking,” Flaherty said.

“Sure, Daddy.”

Flaherty looked down at Mary Alice lying calm and naked on the couch.

“Well, you got the build for the work,” Flaherty said, “I’ll give you that.”

He went to the bar and made himself a drink.

“You want a little white wine or something, Mary Alice?”

“White wine would be nice,” Mary Alice said.

He poured her some and brought it to her.

“You probably ought to get dressed,” he said.

“Wham bam, thank you, ma’am?” Mary Alice said.

“Hell, no. Didn’t I give you wine? Aren’t we having a drink together afterwards? It’s just that this is the Goddamned mayor’s office of the City of Boston, and there’s no good reason for you to be lying around in it buck naked, if you follow my thinking.”

“I thought maybe you could have the City Council in, give those boys a treat.”

“Get dressed, Mary Alice,” Flaherty said. There was no banter in his voice. Mary Alice swung her legs off the couch and sat up, and began to sort her clothes out of the tangle on the floor.

“I’d hate to think macho man can’t get it up anymore,” Flaherty said. “Or is Gus just stepping out on you?” He rested his hips on the edge of his desk and sipped his Scotch on the rocks and watched her dress.

“Gus has never had a problem with up,” Mary Alice said.

“Another woman?”

Mary Alice shrugged.

“Well,” Flaherty said. “My gain.”

“This shouldn’t mean more than it means,” Mary Alice said.

“Long as it means we’ll do it again,” Flaherty said.

“It probably means that,” Mary Alice said.

“I wouldn’t want Gus to find this out,” Flaherty said.

“I don’t think he’d care. Gus doesn’t care about much.”

“Well, he’s trouble. I think sometimes that Gus is crazy.”

Mary Alice was silent. Flaherty looked at her, his arms folded, his drink in his right hand.

“You think he’s crazy?” Flaherty said.

“I don’t know,” Mary Alice said. “Gus doesn’t say much.”

“Even to you?”

Mary Alice shrugged. She was fully dressed now, and had begun to work on her face, holding her compact mirror carefully to catch the light.

“Hiring his kid was your idea,” Flaherty said.

“Um-hmm.”

“You’re an interesting woman, Mary Alice.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Your son said you needed to consult,” Dr. Kramer said. “I’m happy to do Chris a favor. But of course, as your son’s friend, I could not be your therapist.”

“I’m not looking for a therapist,” Gus said.

“If you were, or if in the future you are, I would be happy to refer you.”

“Sure,” Gus said.

Kramer smiled and sat back in his chair. He didn’t look like a shrink. He was a big man, nearly as big as Gus. He had sandy hair, and thick hands, and a sort of healthy outdoor look to him. Maybe that’s what shrinks looked like.

“You probably know I’m a cop,” Gus said.

Kramer nodded so slightly that Gus wasn’t sure if he nodded at all.

“I’m looking for information on serial homicide.”

Again the barely perceptible nod.

“Say, as a young man, a guy commits a murder, and then he doesn’t do it anymore for years, might he do it again? The same way?”

Kramer had his elbows on the arms of his swivel chair, his hands clasped resting on his chest, his chin lowered. Gus felt the completeness of Kramer’s attention.

“Couple of things,” Kramer said. “First we have a hell of a lot better track record in explaining why people did what they did, than in predicting what they will do.”

Gus nodded.

“Second, why ask me? Certainly you have forensic psychiatrists available to you.”

Gus nodded again.

“Cops don’t have a hell of a lot of luck predicting either,” Gus said. “But I want to talk with you because Chris admires you.”

Kramer said, “And?”

Gus smiled. “And I want this to be informal, unofficial, and private.”

“Confidentiality is not limitless, Captain Sheridan. It would depend on what you told me,” Kramer said.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Gus said.

“Yes,” Kramer said, and nodded for Gus to proceed.

“Mr. X has a thing for young girls,” Gus said. “Mr. X isn’t all that old himself, maybe eighteen, twenty. He’s rich, good family, nice looking, seems to get along okay in the world. But he has a series of, ah, incidents with little girls, ten, twelve years old. Family breaks them up, hushes it up; but he keeps at it, and one day he kills one.”