“You Spenser?” asked the girl in the pink Red Sox cap.
“The one and only.”
“People say you’re tough,” she said.
“Did they mention handsome and witty?”
“That you aren’t afraid to use a gun.”
“Only when my feelings get hurt.”
“He appeared to be patting you on the hip,” I said.
“That’s why you came over.” Susan smiled and shook her head. “Were you prepared to defend my virtue?”
“I’m in pursuit of it myself, and I don’t like poachers.”
“Oh, yes, the threats. Well, yes. That’s it essentially. We want you to protect her.”
“Two hundred dollars a day,” I said.
“Yeah, you know. Sometimes I run out of ammunition and have to buy more. Expenses.”
“I understand,” she said. She took another whack of her Scotch. “Well, let’s get to work. How are we going to do this?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I know how we’re not. We’re not going to ask the feds to help us. The people I’ve talked to would have trouble finding Rin Tin Tin at a cat show.”
[Weinberg] jabbed a thumb at me and said, “What’s a nice Jewish shrink doing with a goy with a twenty-inch neck?”
“Actually, it’s only nineteen and a half,” I said.
“Would you believe he recites poetry?” Susan said. “He even appreciates art without prodding.”
“No kidding,” Weinberg said. “Seriously. What about real art? You like Picasso?”
“I prefer my guitars without noses.”
Sources: Northwestern Mutual, FINRA
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