Thirty-Two

I said, “Who’s Mr. Graxton?”

Oscar looked around at the Starbucks. He pulled up a chair, sat down. He had a soft squeaky voice, more pebble than boulder. “Why are you fucking with me? Mr. Graxton says your name is Tucker. He says you’re Sal’s cousin, and he says he wants to talk to you. He didn’t tell me that you were going to play fucking games with me.”

I’m a big believer in the scientific method. I was going to get to use it now. I had a theory that Graxton wouldn’t hurt me in public. This would be the experimental test. I predicted that I’d remain uninjured. If Oscar beat the crap out of me, my theory would be disproved. I said, “Okay.”

I gathered up my laptop and coffee and followed Oscar to Hugh Graxton’s table. He looked up at me with a smile that I took to be friendly. He closed his computer and gestured to the chair across from him. “Tucker, have a seat. Want a refill on your coffee?”

I said, “No. I’m good.”

Graxton leaned closer and looked at my head. He said, “Jesus, you got the crap kicked out of you. Good stitches, though.”

I thought back to the picture I had just downloaded. “Of course, you didn’t have anything to do with my beating.”

A little smile tweaked the corner of Graxton’s mouth. He said, “You’re Sal’s cousin, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I see no family resemblance whatsoever.”

I said nothing.

“You should take that as a compliment.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Sal?”

“Nothing. It’s just that you seem like a happy guy. Your cousin Sal, on the other hand, is a Grumpy Gus.”

“A Grumpy Gus?”

“The grumpiest.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

Graxton drank his coffee and said, “Still, he’s a loyal bastard, old-school.”

“Also true. Are you old-school?”

Graxton gestured to his MacBook Air and asked, “What do you think?” A big college ring with a red stone graced Graxton’s right hand, flashing as he moved.

I asked, “Where did you go to school?”

“UMass Amherst.”

“Zoo Mass?”

Graxton’s smile tightened. “C’mon, Tucker, you’re better than that. You went to MIT. You going to use that education to repeat tired cliches?”

“How did you know I went to MIT?”

“People talk.”

“Which people?”

“I thought you MIT guys were supposed to be wicked smaht.” Graxton did a poor imitation of a Boston accent.

“We are.”

“So use your MIT brain and figure it out. Who do you know that I know?”

“Walt Adams.”

“Walt Adams? What does Walt have to do with it? Sure, we’ve done a little business, but I have to admit that you never came up.”

“How much does Walt owe you?” I asked.

“That’s between me and Walt. There are privacy laws in this country.”

“There are also laws against having someone beaten up.”

“I had nothing to do with you getting beaten up.”

“So who do you think did?”

“How should I know? Maybe you’re an asshole. C’mon, MIT, think. You got any enemies? Anyone threaten you?”

“One guy.”

“Who?”

“This little guy named Talevi.”

Graxton scratched his ear and said, “Never heard of him.”

Oh, Hugh, you big fat liar.

I said, “Sal told me that Talevi was a mean little bastard.”

Graxton leaned back forward and said quietly, “So this mean little bastard, what’s-his-name—”

“Talevi.”

“Talevi comes up to you and threatens you. Probably tells you to stop poking around in this business.”

“Yeah.”

“So then you don’t stop poking around and you get the crap beat out of you.”

“Right.”

“And so your big MIT brain says, ‘Let’s go visit Hugh out in Chestnut Hill.’ Jesus, Tucker, that’s right out of A Beautiful Mind. Have you been hearing voices or seeing patterns in numbers?”

“No.”

“Because it might be schizophrenia.”

“I’m not crazy.”

“Well, you’re not stupid, so I’m at a loss as to why you came out—”

Graxton stopped talking and looked over my shoulder. Jael was standing in the doorway. He smiled and said, “Ms. Navas! You are looking beautiful, as always. I assume you’re here with Tucker.”

Jael walked into the Starbucks and stopped behind my chair. She said, “Hello, Mr. Graxton.”

Graxton said, “Tucker, did you hire Jael to help you with this? That’s the first smart thing you did.”

I stood next to Jael and said, “We’re friends.”

“Friends with benefits?”

Simultaneously, I said “No” as Jael said, “Yes.”

Graxton grinned, and I whispered into Jael’s ear, explaining the phrase “friends with benefits.” Then Jael said, “No.”

Graxton said, “Jael, your friend Tucker here said that he was threatened by a guy named Talevi.”

“Yes.”

“So why did he come see me?”

Jael said, “He insisted.”

“He’s not as smart as he thinks he is,” said Graxton.

Jael said, “I know.”

I looked from one to the other. “Hello. I’m standing right here.”

Graxton’s iPhone played “I’m Shipping Up to Boston.”

Graxton said, “I’ve got to take this.” He answered the phone and said, “Tony! Guess who I’m talking to? No. It’s your old friend Jael Navas … Tony? Tony? Look, don’t piss yourself, you don’t have to ever go near her again.”

Jael tugged at my arm, and we left.