Swan Dive

avoid going past Natty Bumppo’s front sights.

”Jeez, John, Felicia Arnold is nipping at my balls over this.”
    Trying not to picture the metaphor, I put my feet up on the landlord’s coffee table and cradled the phone receiver against my shoulder. ”Chris—”
    ”You saw the kinda guy he is this morning. What the hell were you thinking of?”
    ”Chris, the kinda guy he is we call a sadist, get me? He tortured his little daughter’s pet. Besides, I didn’t do anything to him.”
    ”Felicia says he was covered with cuts.”
    ”Chris, as far as Felicia is concerned, I was never there.”
    ”What?”
    ”I said as far as Felicia, or anybody else, is concerned, I was never at Marsh’s house. I’ll level with you, but deny it to anybody else.”
    ”John, you broke in!”
    ”No, I didn’t. The door to the deck was open, and I walked in.”
    ”She says there was blood everywhere.”
    ”The blood came from him slamming the glass shower door on my foot, Chris. I pushed him once, that’s all, and no damage from that.”
    Chris stopped for a minute, then said, ”How come this is just between you and me?”
    ”Because I don’t like the idea of Marsh doing the cat and then being able to get away with denying it. He’s somebody who doesn’t believe things you just tell him. If I pay him a visit, then deny what I did too, maybe he’ll get the idea that it’s a two-way street, that if he can go into Hanna’s place anytime he wants, I can do the same to him at his house. Active deterrence, you know?”
    ”Yeah, well, I just hope you haven’t made matters worse.”
    ”Speaking of making matters worse, what are we going to do about that second appraisal?”
    ”Just what I need right now.”
    ”I saw it, Chris. The house, I mean. Have you?”
    ”No. Well, the photos from the appraisal there and [ all.”
    ”It’s a palace. The Vanderbilt mansion done up in 1 hardwood.”
    ”So?”
    ”So it’s worth a fortune.”
    ”Yeah, well, is it worth getting a nutcake like Marsh : going again?”
    ”Also the insurance, Chris.”
    ”The insurance?”
    ”Yeah, on the guy’s life. If I were you, I’d check on that policy with the company that issued it.”
    ”John, how the hell am I supposed to do that? Those kinda records are confidential, at least without going to court.”
    ”Felicia Arnold can have the home office of the insurer itself send you Marsh’s coverage.”
    Chris exhaled noisily. ”Okay, okay, I’ll think about it. You got any other marching orders for me?”
    I hung up with Chris still a friend, then dialed the Boston police headquarters on Berkeley Street . ”Homicide, Detective Cross.”
    ”This is John Cuddy. The lieutenant in?”
    She said, ”You haven’t caused enough problems for a while?”
    ”The courthouse thing?”
    ”It’s what comes to mind.”
    ”Look, that wasn’t my fault.”
    ”Save it for him.”
    A gruff, gravelly voice, a mixture of Dorchester tough and street black, came on. Not his usual telephone manner. ”Somebody post bail for you?”
    ”Not funny, Lieutenant.”
    We went around on that a bit, then at a convenient break point I said, ”Could you check somebody out for me?”
    ”I guess so. Name?”
    ”Roy Marsh. Insurance agent, lives in Swampscott.”
    ”You got anything in particular in mind?”
    ”I’m thinking he might be partial to the nose candy.”
    ”You talk to the Swampscott PD about him?”
    ”No.”
    ”How come?”
    ”Because I don’t know anybody there.”
    Murphy grunted. ”That all you want on him?”
    ”The guy’s a bad actor.” I briefly described what we found at Hanna’s house. Murphy and his wife had always wanted but never had kids of their own.
    ”Cuddy, I’ll ask around Narcotics, but you come up with anything, I don’t want to see or hear about any vigilante stuff. Dig?”
    ”I’m just investigating a divorce here, Lieutenant.”
    He gave me his home number again and told me to call him tomorrow or Sunday.
    I put the phone down and did my best to forget Chris’s remark about my maybe having made things worse for Hanna. Just to be sure, I tried her number in Peabody . She was all right: no Roy , no incidents, not even harassment by telephone. I told her that was good news, probably meaning Roy had gotten the anger out of his system. She said she hoped so and thanked me again for helping at the conference. I didn’t mention my trip to Swampscott, and we hung up.
    I settled deep into the burlappy couch