Caper (10 page)

“This isn't horse trading.”

“Sure it is. No judge involved. No actual laws in play. Just a simple discussion of how best to resolve the situation.”

“Richard. I've seen you in action before. You don't trade horses. You cut the other cowboy in little pieces and take his horse as a trophy. Why are you letting this woman walk all over you?”

Richard sighed. “Oh, Stanley. You have a lot to learn.”

The door opened and the ADA I had a lot to learn about came back, ushering in Congressman Blake.

He leveled a finger at me, said, “Is that him? Is that the son of a bitch?”

Richard, delighted to have someone to bop around rather than the comely ADA, stepped in front of me and said, “If you would like to characterize this man in terms that are actionable, feel free, but I would like to point out unless you can
prove
he's a son of a bitch, it would be my pleasure to demonstrate for you how much cash it's worth.”

The congressman was not one to back down. “Oh, yeah? Who the hell are you?”

“I'm Mr. Hastings's attorney. I don't want to tell you your business, but if you were hoping for a campaign contribution, I'd moderate your tone.”

“Jokes? You're making jokes? You client kidnapped a girl, and everyone's blaming me.”

“Funny about that,” I said.

Richard shot me a warning look.

The attractive ADA stepped in. “Please. I'd like to clear this up, which doesn't appear to be that easy under the circumstances. It would be nice if we can get through this without recriminations.”

“I'd like that,” Richard said. “But I'm not offering an oral stipulation that people aren't bound by what they say.”

“Wonderful,” the congressman said. “After your client's already shot his mouth off.”

“And that's just the type of remark we'd like to avoid,” ADA Fairfield said. “Let's see if I can speed this along. Without anyone accusing anyone of anything, let's suppose Mr. Hastings here thought you'd abducted a girl.”

“Ridiculous,” the congressman said.

“Do you deny you took Sharon to Philadelphia?” I said.

“Stanley,” Richard cautioned.

“Go on. Ask him if he denies it.”

“
I'll
ask him,” ADA Fairfield said. “Mr. Blake, did you take Sharon Weldon to Philadelphia?”

“Yes, I did.”

I exhaled in exasperation, spread my hands. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”

“And while you were there, did you smoke dope with her and buy her alcoholic beverages?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Did you take her backstage at the Show Palace where they were smoking dope?”

“I'm a congressman, not a cop. It's not my job to police drug use at music events.”

“It is when you take a minor.”

“Stanley! Do I have to tie and gag you?”

“I can assure you she didn't smoke dope.”

“He bought her margaritas,” I persisted.

Richard sighed, shook his head. “My client is an idiot. I think we can all agree on that. But he's not a liar. If he says he saw Congressman Blake buy her margaritas, I would trust his word.”

“Did you buy her margaritas?” ADA Fairfield asked.

He smiled. “
Virgin
margaritas. No alcohol. They look just the same. Even have salt on the rim.”

“Well, you had that one ready,” I said.

This time is was ADA Fairfield who gave me the disparaging look.

“Why are you quibbling over details?” I said. “The fact is, the guy took her to Philadelphia.”

“And why'd you do that, Mr. Blake?”

“To see my son, Adam. Sharon's a friend of his. She's never seen him perform. Adam's a singer. In a boy band. They're the opening act this week.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“Her parents knew she was going. That's why they were so upset I lost her. I don't blame them. If someone abducted Adam, I'd go crazy.”

My head spun as layers and layers of misconceptions peeled off of me. The fact that they were steeped in perfidy didn't help. It was somewhat overwhelming. “Adam is one of those god-awful singers?” I said incredulously.

“What my client means to say,” Richard put in hastily, “is that he is surprised to discover that one of the talented young men gracing the stage at last night's entertainment was your son, and he is certainly sorry if he inconvenienced you in any way.” He raised an eyebrow at the attractive ADA. “Sharon's parents will confirm this story?”

“They already have.”

“Really?” Richard cocked his head, side-spied at her narrowly. “So. You
knew
all this. But you didn't let on. You brought the congressman in here and made my client jump through hoops anyway.”

She stuck out her chin. “So?”

Richard smiled. “I
like
that.”

20

A
LICE WAS SUPPORTIVE.
I
N HER FASHION.
H
ER FASHION IS
irony and gentle ridicule. I've gotten used to it over the years. Even so.

“You were duped?” Alice said. “By a woman?”

“Yes.”

“An attractive woman?”

“That's neither here nor there.”

“
She's
neither here nor there. Isn't that right? She's totally disappeared?”

“Yes, she has.”

“Of course, she didn't really exist. That makes it easier, doesn't it? To vanish, I mean. She has no obligations to fulfill. If she were someone, you could say, well, she's gotta get her car registered, her teeth fixed, her hair done, and check those places out. But that's not the case. She's elusive as air. No strings. No ties. No name. No face.”

“I saw her face.”

“But you don't have her picture. And with your knack for description, she might as well have been wearing a paper bag. I remember what you did with a sketch artist once.”

“There's no reason to snipe.”

“I wasn't sniping. Just pointing out the facts.”

Which was true. Alice is very good at finding facts that snipe.

“So,” Alice said, “we have a mystery woman, and all we know is that she duped you.”

“She had blonde hair.”

“Which could be a wig. It probably was, if she was assuming a false identity. Did she have nice tits?”

“Didn't notice.”

“I'll take that as a yes. It would have to be, or you wouldn't have been duped.”

“That's silly.”

“I know, but you're like that. If she didn't have nice tits you'd have been skeptical. Found reason to doubt her story.”

“That's stupid.”

“I know, but I married you anyway.”

“Come on, Alice. This wasn't my fault. I was told a plausible lie to arouse my sympathy.”

“Oh, that's what she aroused.”

“That's feeble, Alice.”

“Sorry. Couldn't resist.”

“Actually, I set you up for it.”

“I know.”

We lay there in companionable silence. Or what I chose to consider companionable silence. Alice might have considered it something else. The silent treatment, for instance.

Alice broke it first. “So, the case is over?”

“Huh?”

“You've been paid, right?”

“Ah. Yeah.”

“You hesitate?”

“I had some expenses.”

“Oh, God.”

“It's not like that.”

“What's it like?”

“Well, two hundred dollars for chloral hydrate. Two fifty for Amtrak tickets. A hundred-dollar cover charge at the nightclub. Plus taxi cabs and bribes.”

“What does that come to?”

“About six hundred dollars.”

“So, you broke even.”

“Yeah.”

Alice nodded encouragingly. “You're getting better.”

21

M
AC
A
ULLIF WAS MORE STRAIGHTFORWARD.
“S
O, YOU
fucked up.”

“I had a reversal of fortune.”

He burst out laughing. “Well, that's one way to put it. But basically, you screwed the pooch.”

“I was set up and lied to.”

“Hard to believe anyone could do that.”

“
You
thought the woman was legit.”

“I never met the woman. I was going on what you told me.”

“You traced the license plate for me.”

“I see. It's my fault. If I hadn't given you the name of the congressman, this never would have happened. I'll remember to point that out the next time you ask for a favor.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“What do you do now? I don't know what you do now. I know what you
don't
do now. You don't hassle the congressman anymore. You don't hassle the girl, and you don't hassle her parents. You stay as far the fuck away from every last one of them as you possibly can. And for the next few weeks you have your wife open the front door, in case it might be a process server filing papers on behalf of someone who might want to sue you. And I imagine there might be a line.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what?”

“How do I find out what happened?”

MacAullif looked at me as if I'd just won Moron of the Month. “Who
gives
a shit what happened? You don't
have
to know what happened. No one's
paying
you to find
out
what happened. What happened is, someone went to a lot of trouble to make you look stupid. Which shows they're not very bright. It doesn't
take
much to make you look stupid. Why bother with all the window dressing?”

“That's what I'd like to find out.”

“But you're not
going
to. You're going to poke around where you got no business and get yourself in
more
trouble. When you do, don't expect me to get you out.”

“I have an attorney.”

“I know. He called me. Said if I heard from you, to pass along a message. ‘Nothing short of murder.' You know what that means?”

“I have an idea.”

“So, it might not be a good time for you to get arrested for something stupid. Like poking around the congressman, for instance.”

“I bet he's dirty.”

“That may well be. But I bet his story checks out.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you say that?”

“My wife Googled him.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be an asshole. She checked him out on the computer. His son is in a boy band performing in Philadelphia. Which should be a crime in itself.”

“So, you're going to leave him alone.”

I waggled my hand. “Well …”

“Oh, for Christ's sake.”

MacAullif took a cigar out of his desk drawer, always a bad sign. His doctor had made him give up cigars, but he played with them when I annoyed him. He played with them a lot. “Let me give you some advice. Take some time off. Go to the country. Go to the beach. Go to Mexico.”

“Mexico? Why Mexico?”

“It's not
here
. You need to lie low, recharge your batteries, give those around you a break.” MacAullif waggled the cigar. “Just a hint.”

“And I appreciate it. I just don't have time right now.”

He squinted at me suspiciously. “Why not? More to the point, why are you
here
?”

“I'm wondering what type of stuff the congressman might be into. The type of stuff
not
on Google.”

MacAullif stared at me openmouthed. “Are you an idiot?”

“MacAullif.”

“No, no, no. I talk, you listen, but nothing gets through. We have an entire conversation at the end of which you act like we didn't. Like nothing was said. You're like a kid listening to his parent. You nod yes and ignore everything.”

“You're missing the point.”

MacAullif gripped the cigar as if it were a baseball bat. If it had been, I think he would have bashed my head in. “
I'm
missing the point? You think
I'm
missing the point?”

“About the congressman,” I explained patiently. “I'll tell you why.”

“Not if I throw you out on your ear.”

“Not worth it,” I said. “It will make a big fuss, and all day people will be asking you why you did it. Or I can give you my spiel in two minutes and walk out.”

MacAullif took a huge breath. Calmed himself. Raised a finger. “
One
minute,” he said, and sat back down.

“Okay. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to make me look stupid. For no discernable reason. On the other hand, they made the congressman look stupid. Worse, to look like a child molester. Granted, it was totally unconvincing, and easily explained away. But the guy's in politics. Facts don't mean that much to politicians. They can smear each other with just a hint of a scandal. So, I have to ask myself, is the congressman involved in anything that anyone might want to influence, and/or throw a monkey wrench into by putting him in an embarrassing position?” I looked at my watch. “Done!”

MacAullif scowled, exhaled. Gnawed on his cigar. He didn't look at all happy.

But he didn't throw me out the door.

22

“Y
OU
'
VE GOT A LOT OF NERVE.”

“I made a mistake and I'm sorry.”

“You drugged my daughter.”

“I made a mistake.”

“Drugging a young girl isn't a mistake. It's a criminal act. My God!”

Sharon's mom looked good. Sharon's real mom, who was pissed at me, not Sharon's fake mom, who played me for a sucker. It occurred to me, I was not having much luck with Sharon's moms, real or imaginary. But Jennifer Weldon was looking rather hot in a sleeveless yellow pullover and tennis shorts. I don't know how I'd ever mistaken her for a cop. Not that women cops aren't good-looking. I'm sure some are. And not just the ones on TV, either. Did that sound condescending? It did, didn't it. Good God, why do I always get in trouble with women?