All the Dead Yale Men by Craig Nova Read Free Book Online

Jimmy Blaine. He comes in and sees it.”
    â€œYou should have locked the door,” I said.
    â€œYou’re telling me,” he said.
    â€œSo,” I said. “Why don’t we go over to a bar I know? You can see it from here. See. Over there.”
    â€œListen,” said Cal. “Blaine wants my job. You know that.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “But he went to Essex and hasn’t got a chance.”
    â€œThat’s not the way it’s playing out. I said, ‘Please, Jimmy, Please, this is just between us. Right? You don’t have to do anything? You can just be quiet. I even have a little money tucked away . . .’ Of course, Frank, I was thinking of borrowing more from you.”
    â€œI’ll give it to you,” I said. “How much does that asshole want? Ten thousand? Twenty? I can get it. This afternoon.”
    â€œIt’s not that way.”
    â€œWe’ll buy him off. He’s got to have a price, right?”
    â€œBlaine looks at me, like he’s adding things up, and then he goes down the hall to Martha Bingham and tells her and she gets the IT guy involved and the next thing you know everyone knows, and Martha calls Mary Coffin, you know, the PR type, and she says we should be proactive . . . ”
    â€œProactive?” I said.
    â€œYeah, cut the DA’s office losses.”
    â€œAnd what does that mean? Calling The Boston Globe ?” I said.
    â€œBingo,” said Cal. “And some other papers. And Martha Bingham wants them to know that she is running a clean ship and that a prosecutor was looking at porn but she is going to take care of it.”
    The constant pressure of the wind had a whiff of oil from the smokestack of a ship, the scent romantic and suggesting Bangkok, Singapore, Saigon. A bird flew over the bridge and the cop cars. Jimmy Blaine emerged from the line of parked cruisers and started walking, his tie blowing, too, in our direction. He came along as if he were just out for a stroll, calm and cool. Above him the helicopters hovered with that beating, whacking noise, as though they stayed aloft by a variety of cruelty.
    â€œHe’s coming,” Cal said.
    â€œYeah,” I said.
    â€œCan you beat that?” he said. “Maybe I can grab him and take him along.”
    I made a sign, with both hands. Back up. Stop. Stop. Blaine waves. Smiles. Keeps walking.
    Cal looked down. The birds streamed by as though they were coming out of a hose, all going to the same place, all in a tight formation, one behind the other.
    â€œIs he still coming?” said Cal.
    â€œYeah,” I said.
    I waved to Tim Marshall, who stared at me and then at Blaine. I pointed at Blaine and then made a quick movement under my chin, as though I was cutting my throat.
    â€œIf I went over there and hit Blaine in the mouth, would it be all right? Can I leave you?”
    â€œSure, Frank,” said Cal.
    I slid my hand closer to Cal’s hand with its golden hair and the thin wedding band that probably won’t come off, since he’d gained some weight. Tim Marshall walked out of that line of flashing red and blue lights. Blaine kept coming.
    So, I was left with the choice. Should I stay there in the pigeon shit and paper, or should I stand up and leave Cal alone? To stop Blaine from coming any closer.
    â€œYou know why he’s here?” said Cal.
    â€œBlaine?” I said. “I don’t know. Who cares? You want to hear a joke about some women who are taking steroids?”
    â€œHe wants to seem sympathetic, see?” said Cal. “Then Blaine can have it both ways. He fucks me and then shows what a sweetheart he is by coming here to stop me from . . . ” He gestured with his chin to the empty space below.
    The birds hovered on the wind, wings out, static: maybe it was their lack of movement, which suggested the serene, but I stood up.
    â€œI never meant anything like this,” said Blaine.
    â€œGet