‘Why don’t we keep it formal?’
Aside from the issue of the truck, Parker knew enough about Bobby Ocean to want to hold him at one remove. Bobby Ocean’s businesses generally employed only white men and women, but were not above contracting the messiest and most unpleasant of their service tasks to companies known to exploit immigrant workers, thereby outsourcing vindictiveness and the humiliation of the vulnerable. People of color gave his restaurants a wide berth. Service at the bar would be slow and neglectful; unoccupied tables would be mysteriously unavailable to them, reserved for patrons who might never materialize; and a vague but undeniable aura of hostility would permeate their dining experience. But Bobby Ocean also contributed generously to select charities, and supported initiatives to beautify and improve the city of Portland. He found favor with many, as long as they were Caucasian, and comfortably off. People said he wasn’t a bad guy, and shouldn’t be judged on his failings alone. But to Parker, Bobby Ocean’s deficiencies could not be isolated from the totality of the man: they represented the core of his being, and tainted all that he did. He was poisoned meat.
‘You know, I didn’t take you for a churchgoing man,’ said Bobby Ocean.
‘Have you been following me, Mr Stonehurst?’
‘I saw you pull out earlier, when I first intended to speak with you, and we just happened to take the same road. I didn’t wish to disturb you on your way to worship. I figured you’d be back here soon enough.’ He sucked at some morsel caught between his teeth, and swallowed it upon its release. ‘Catholic, huh?’
‘That’s right.’
Bobby Ocean shrugged. He took in Parker, his vehicle, his home, and probably his Catholicism too, and managed not to look obviously disappointed by any of them, but it was a close-run thing.
‘You live alone out here?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a big place for one man.’
‘You offering to help with the payments?’
‘From what I hear, you’re not hurting for money or influence. You mind if we sit down?’
‘You know, I do.’
‘Have I given you cause for hostility toward me? If so, I don’t recall it.’
‘Mr Stonehurst, you have no reason to pay me a social visit, and if this relates to a business inquiry, my number is freely available. You can phone to make an appointment.’
‘You don’t keep an office. I find that unusual.’
‘If I kept an office, I’d have to sit in it. There are more productive ways to spend my time. I meet clients at their homes or places of employment. Where that isn’t possible, we find mutually agreeable venues. My house and the surrounding land, I like to consider private.’
‘Is that because someone once tried to kill you here?’
‘Two people tried to kill me here.’
‘If you’ll forgive me for saying so, I’m starting to see why.’
Parker looked past Bobby Ocean to the marshes glittering in the morning sunlight, at the returning birds and the sea beyond. What had started out as a good if contemplative day was rapidly taking a turn for the worse.
‘Actually, I may not be inclined to forgive you,’ said Parker. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Are you aware that I approached Mr Moxie Castin about an act of violence visited upon an item of my property?’
‘Mr Castin informed me. My understanding is that the property in question belonged to your son.’
‘My son’s name might have been on the papers, but that truck was paid for with my money. It was a gift to my boy. I choose to take personally what was done to it.’
‘If what I hear is true, your son elected to decorate that truck with symbols of the Confederacy. Last time I checked, the Mason-Dixon line was still about seven hundred miles south of here.’
‘And last time I looked, the First Amendment continued to guarantee freedom of expression.’
‘You might take the view that whoever blew up your son’s truck was exercising a similar right.’
‘Don’t be facetious, Mr Parker. It ill becomes an intelligent man. I approached Mr Castin about the incident because I believed the Portland PD was disinclined to give it the attention it deserved.’
‘And Mr Castin declined to involve himself in your affairs, just as I will, if that’s where this conversation is going.’
Bobby Ocean ground his heel in the dirt of Parker’s yard, like a bull preparing to charge. He even dropped his head, but when he looked up again, he was grinning. It was the response of a man who believes his opponent has made an error, one that he now fully intends to exploit.
‘I didn’t expect Mr Castin to oblige me. Mr Castin is a Semite. In my experience, they are primarily a self-interested people. Since that hardly makes them unique among the races, their cupidity arouses no particular animosity in me, nor does it occasion surprise. But I do believe it runs deeper in them than in others, and such differences in racial character should be acknowledged.’
‘Mr Stonehurst,’ said Parker, ‘I really would like you to remove yourself from my vicinity.’
But Bobby Ocean showed no signs of departing.
‘I think that first you ought to listen to what I have to say. I’ll be gone from your presence soon enough, and then, if the Lord smiles on both of us, we won’t have reason to talk again. I went to Mr Castin forearmed with suspicions about the identity of those responsible for this act of violence, and his attitude confirmed them. I’ve learned a lot about you, Mr Parker. I’m told you consort with Negroes, homosexuals, and similar individuals of low moral character. Your clients have included a homeless man. You got shot chasing after the killer of a whore. You believe yourself to be defending the meek against the powerful, but you’re misguided, or guilty of deliberate self-delusion. You’re a weak man, and therefore you resent men without similar weakness. You form allegiances with those most like you, and use them to fan the flames of your inadequacy. You fly flags of convenience to indulge your love of violence.’
Bobby Ocean spoke without spleen or viciousness. He might just as easily have been commenting on the weather.
‘You know, my grandfather fought in the Second World War,’ said Parker.
Bobby Ocean tilted his head in puzzlement.
‘Were he still alive,’ said Bobby Ocean, ‘I’d thank him for his service, but I believe he’s long gone from this world.’
‘He is. He’s buried just up the road, at Black Point Cemetery. I filled in his grave myself.’
‘That’s something to be proud of. I mean that in all sincerity.’
Parker ignored him. He was unconcerned by Bobby Ocean’s opinion of him, or what passed for sincerity in this man’s world. He had the measure of him now.
‘He never spoke much about what he saw over in Europe,’ Parker continued. ‘I do know that he served with the Ninety-ninth Infantry, and suffered a shrapnel injury to his left leg at the Battle of the Bulge. It was only after he died that I found out how hard the Ninety-ninth fought. They were outnumbered five to one, and for every casualty they suffered, they inflicted eighteen on the Germans. But my grandfather wasn’t the kind to boast about his use of a gun. What he did tell me was that he was one of the first men into Wereth, Belgium, in February 1945. Do you know what he found there?’
‘I do not.’
‘He found the bodies of eleven African-American GIs who’d been captured by the First SS Panzer Division. They were beaten and tortured before being killed. One of them was a medic who died while bandaging another man’s wounds. The Germans left them where they fell.’
‘I have to confess that the nature of your thought processes is confusing to me, Mr Parker. I’m struggling to see the relevance of this.’
‘The relevance,’ said Parker, ‘is that the men my grandfather fought spoke of the weak just the way you do. The relevance is that they, like you, displayed only contempt for those who did not share their nature, or their creed, or the color of their skin. The relevance is that I can tell where your son gets his ignorance.’