Rough Weather: A Spenser Novel

invited me,” Susan said. “I was nearly speechless.”
    “Understandable,” I said. “The central event is the marriage of Heidi Bradshaw’s daughter, Adelaide, to a guy named Maurice Lessard, whose family owns a pharmaceutical company.”
    “Adelaide?” Susan said.
    “Ever-loving Adelaide,” I said.
    “How old?” Susan said.
    “Twenty-two, I think.”
    “Puts Heidi in her forties, then,” Susan said.
    “I’d guess,” I said.
    Heidi Bradshaw came across the lawn at full stride.
    “I’m so, so sorry,” she said, “not to have been here to greet you when you arrived.”
    “Busy time,” I said, and introduced Susan.
    “I’m thrilled, Miss Silverman,” Heidi said. “I’ve heard the big boy here speak very well of you.”
    “My pleasure,” Susan said.
    Susan was perfectly pleasant, but I could hear the chill.
    “Actually,” I said. “It’s Dr. Silverman.”
    “Really?” Heidi said to Susan. “A medical doctor.”
    “I’m a psychotherapist,” Susan said. “But please, call me Susan.”
    “Therapist? How fascinating. Is it fun?”
    “Not always,” Susan said.
    “Well, I bet it’s useful for managing the stud, here,” Heidi said, and shared an intimate smile with me.
    “Sadly, I’m not trained in adolescent psychology,” Susan said.
    “Oh, you’re so funny,” Heidi said. “Omigod, there’s Leopold.”
    She turned from us and rushed into the arms of a darkly tanned gentleman with white hair, who might have been a famous conductor, as he was stepping from the carriage.
    “Did we find her annoying?” I said to Susan.
    “We did.”
    “Was it the ‘Miss Silverman’ that did it?” I said.
    “You seemed quick to correct her,” Susan said.
    “I felt your pain,” I said.
    “It was a put-down.”
    “To call you ‘Miss’?”
    “Trust me,” Susan said. “And she was so intimately proprietary with you.”
    “Intimately?” I said.
    Susan said, “Yes … stud boy.”
    “I don’t know how it looks for us in the long term, though,” I said. “She dropped me for that orchestra leader in a millisecond.”
    “I don’t like her,” Susan said.
    I was looking at her. She was looking at the people climbing out of the second carriage. Her face stiffened.
    “Oh my good God,” she said.
    I looked. Stepping out of the carriage, dressed as usual, and carrying a small suitcase, was the Gray Man. He glanced over at us. I looked back. He gave no sign.
    “Friend of the bride?” I said to Susan. “Or friend of the groom?”

 
    “Maybe he doesn’t see us,”
Susan said.
    “He sees us.”
    “How can you be sure?”
    “Rugar doesn’t not see things,” I said.
    “Is that really his name, do you think?”
    “It’s the one he used last time,” I said.
    “In Marshport?”
    “Yeah,” I said, “two, three years ago.”
    “When he helped you?”
    “Yep.”
    “How about when he almost killed you?”
    “Yeah, he was Rugar then, too,” I said. “Almost ten years.”
    Carrying his small suitcase, Rugar walked across the lawn toward us.
    “Dr. Silverman,” he said to Susan. “A pleasure to see you again.”
    Susan nodded without saying anything. Rugar was wearing a gray blazer, gray slacks, a gray shirt with a Windsor collar and sapphire cuff links, a charcoal tie with a sapphire tie clasp, and black shoes with pointy toes.
    “Spenser,” Rugar said.
    “Rugar,” I said.
    He smiled.
    “Our paths seem to keep crossing,” Rugar said.
    “Kismet,” I said.
    “I hope we are not here on conflicting missions,” Rugar said.
    “Tell me what you’re here for,” I said, “and I can tell you if there’s conflict.”
    Rugar smiled again. It was more of an automatic facial gesture than an expression of anything.
    “You could,” Rugar said. “But you wouldn’t.”
    “How do you know?” I said.
    “Because I wouldn’t,” Rugar said.
    “I’m not sure we’re as much alike as you think we are,” I said.
    “We seemed rather alike in Marshport,” Rugar said.
    “The first time we met, you almost killed me,” I said.
    “But I didn’t,” Rugar said. “You almost put me in jail.”
    “But I didn’t,” I said.
    “So I guess we are starting even here,” Rugar said.
    “You wish,” I said.
    Again, the meaningless smile.
    “You have never lacked for confidence,” he said.
    “Never had reason to,” I said.
    “And perhaps you are more playful than I,” Rugar said.
    “There are viruses more playful than you are,” I said.
    Rugar nodded.
    “But