Murder by Candlelight (33 page)

"On the other hand,
while
Bayliss
doesn't exactly like you, he doesn't hate you, either; is at
least neutral on the subject of Bob Zapolska.

"And, by the way, Bayliss don't like this
Tabor any more than me. All of which is background for what I'm
about to tell you on the hush-hush. Remember, you didn't get this
from me."

"Right."

"Bayliss was by my office this morning. Kind
of a strange thing, right there. And he happened to mention --
trusting to my powers of deduction as a detective -- that he saw
Captain Scherer talking, quiet-like, to Tabor.

"Just catching a word here and there, they
were talking about you, the captain saying how much of a shit you
were, and Tabor, like the dick-licker he is, agreeing all the way.
In spite of the fact that Tabor is new and don't know his ass from
a hole in the wall."

Ted meant hole in the ground.

"Bayliss got the impression that something
was up. That is, that the captain was putting Tabor up to making
trouble for you.

"Not in so many words. The captain don't
ever put his ass on the line by saying anything direct. But if you
got a brown-noser like Tabor, who is itchin' to do the captain a
favor any way he can, then a hint is all it takes to set loose the
dogs.

"When Bayliss said that to me this morning,
I didn't think nothing of it. But, like I said, my detective
instincts coming to the fore, this evening it came to me that
Bayliss, knowing me and you have been friends forever, was putting
a bug in my ear. That's why I've been calling, trying to get you,
you being out until now.

"The whole sum of the message is to watch
your back, because something may be up."

"Thanks, Ted."

"That's one you owe me, buddy."

"Yeah."

"I got to go. I'm on
assignment. Nothin' special, though." Ted was
never
sent out on anything special.
"Would you believe, a streaker at the shopping center? About an
hour ago -- someone just calling it in. A drunk college kid, if you
ask me. Or some kind of fraternity prank -- what you call hazing,
the captain said. Long gone by this time. But I got to show up. Ask
questions like we was shocked and goin' to do something about
it."

"Thanks again."

After hanging up, Z felt worse in one way
... better in another. Worse, because this was confirmation that
Captain Scherer still had the red ass about Z's denouncement on the
radio. Better, because it cleared up a mystery.

If Ted's "detective skills" had worked a
little faster, his tip might even have done some good -- other than
help to explain, after the fact, what was going on. Still, a
mystery cleared up was one more puzzle Z didn't have to take the
time to work over, like a cow chews its cud.

Figuring in Ted's warning, it had gone down
like this. Captain Scherer, knowing full well that Tabor is busting
his breeches to please, hints to Tabor that the captain doesn't
like Bob Zapolska and wishes something bad to happen to this
smart-mouthed private dick. A hint being all it takes with an
ass-licker, Tabor, who's the department's drug specialist, puts the
arm on a small-time pusher, the dealer supposed to plant drugs in
Z's house, to be found later by the cops. Presto! Z is holding, and
takes the rap, a plot that gets Z paid back for spilling the beans
about Captain Scherer's character.

All of the aforementioned, equaling the
little man breaking into Z's apartment this evening to plant
drugs.

Did that mean Z's house
would soon be subject to a police search? ... Not if Tabor was the
careful type. Since Z had gotten wise to the scheme, Tabor would
tell the captain exactly
nothing
about what Tabor had done. A situation, like what
often happened in politics with the president of the United States.
According to what Z had been able to figure out, a president would
say he "wished" something illegal to be done. Then the president's
men would go out and
do
it -- without telling the president what they
were about. If the illegal action got results, the president
"magically" gets what he wished for. Feeling good, he rewards the
men who have had the "initiative" to "get things done." But if
somebody gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar, then the man
gets his hand chopped off and the president gets to say he doesn't
know anything about any illegal actions that his men might have
performed. Moreover, is
shocked
someone working for him would commit criminal
acts like that.

That's the way the game was played up and
down the line.

Getting back to Tabor. If all had gone well,
after checking with his pusher to find out when and where the drugs
had been planted, Tabor would have found some excuse to get a
search warrant to toss Z's place.

Low and behold, being an excellent judge of
where to look, Tabor would find the drugs, and Z's ass would be in
a sling.

Except that this wouldn't happen because
Tabor would check with his druggie and get a very different story,
indeed, of what had gone down.

The whole thing botched, Tabor would shut up
about the attempt to incriminate Z, and everything would go on as
before. Until the captain and his lap dog could think up some other
way to fix Z's wagon.

Having figured out the play, Z felt even
worse about what he'd done to the little man who'd broken in.

The man was in a bind to do what he'd done.
He didn't have anything against Z, personally. Was just another
tool of "law enforcement."

All told, the things Z had to feel bad about
were piling up around him, meaning that Z dreaded to go to sleep
more than ever, wondering how this latest event would come back to
haunt him!

Z's phone rang.

A busy night, Z confident that, this time,
it was Susan on the line. Instantly reasoned (Z's "detective
skills" as sharp as Ted's,) that because few people had Z's
unlisted number: Susan, Ted, and Johnny Dosso. Ted had already
called. Johnny -- his problem solved -- wasn't likely to. Leaving
Susan.

Tired as he was, in as bad a mental shape as
he was, Z was smiling as he reached over again to pick up the
phone.

"Z."

"Harry Grimes."

How did
Harry
get Z's unlisted
number ...!? A foolish question, Harry considerably more skilled in
the detective business than Z would ever be.

"Everyone under the sun has been telling me
you've been pestering them about my whereabouts." Said with a dry
chuckle. Over the phone, you would never guess Harry was old enough
to have "retired."

"Yeah."

"You received your five-hundred-dollar
retainer?"

"Yeah."

"And might I guess that's why you wished to
contact me?" Harry was a well-spoken man. A trait Z envied.

"Yeah."

"To inquire about what services you were to
provide?"

"Yeah."

"None."

"What?"

"When first contacting you, I believe I
informed you that I wished to gain information about a certain man,
located in your bailiwick North of the river."

"Right."

"I no longer need to have that information.
Or to be more precise, I've had occasion to gain what I sought, by
other means."

Translation. Harry no longer needed Z's
services.

"About the money ...," Z
started. Harry wanting his retainer back put Z in a bind. "...
it'll take a little time to return it." How long, Z didn't know.
He'd have to do some figuring. Could be, he'd spent some of the
five hundred and that it would take
quite
awhile to get it back to
Harry.

"No need."

"What?"

"A retainer is just that. It retains. That
is, the five hundred was what, in governmental circles, would be
called a 'heads up.' What it bought was your reserving a body of
time to work for me, should I have need of you. By reserving that
time, you have earned the retainer."

"Even though I didn't do anything?"

"Exactly."

Harry had always been more than fair. There
were a lot of things to be learned from a man like Harry
Grimes.

"Now, to other business," Harry continued,
the five hundred kissed off to Z's advantage. "As you know, I've
retired." Harry chuckled to acknowledge what they both understood,
that "retirement" had different meanings depending on how you used
the word. "On the other hand, Deerstalker is growing. More crime.
Overworked police force. Means more work for the private
investigator."

Where Harry was going, Z had no idea.

"Also, there's about to be
a shift in demographics in Kansas City. The city has grown mostly
south, as you know.
So
far south, it's increasingly difficult for the southern
suburban dweller to get to work downtown. No light rail transport,
like you'd have in New York or in cities on the West Coast. What's
projected is explosive grown North-of-the-River, the Northland, the
most neglected part of Kansas City."

"Sure." Z thought he
should say
something
from time to time. Just to let Harry know Z was
listening.

"Now and again, I've hired you to do work
for me. And I must say, you're a man who comes through. On the
other hand, to be frank about it, there have been only certain jobs
where I could use your talents.

"No criticism of your
abilities," Harry added smoothly. "It is just that
any
individual has
limitations.

"For instance, if a job calls for a certain
mingling with intellectuals, attending formal parties to solicit
information over cocktails, I would need someone who could speak on
practically any subject that might come up. Cocktail talk. Shallow,
perhaps, but broad. Requiring at least a surface knowledge of
history, society, art, philosophy, and the like. For that kind of
job, a liberal college education would be a prerequisite.

"For another sort of situation, a woman
operative would be preferable. If for no other reason, than a woman
has access to the ladies room -- where confidences are
exchanged."

"Sure."

"To get down to it, if Deerstalker is to
expand North-of-the-River, the team approach would be
preferable."

There was good reason for
the chill that
now
racked Z up. My God! If Harry put in a branch
North-of-the-River, Z's business -- poor at present -- would dry up
overnight!

"What I want you to think about, Mr.
Zapolska, is providing the northern team."

"You ... what?"

"It wouldn't have to be called Deerstalker
North. I have no ego invested in the name. As a matter of fact,
since you're established, there is no reason you couldn't call your
agency ... anything you like.

"What I need to know are two things. First,
are you interested? Second, can you put together the necessary
team?"

"I'm ... interested."
Z
had
to say
that, no matter what. Harry had used a bunch of fancy words, none
of them disguising the fact that Z had just been made an offer
he
couldn't
refuse
. If Harry was coming north, Z
either signed on or went out of business.

At the same time, Z didn't think Harry's
intent was to run Z out of town. Didn't think Harry saw his
expansion as a threat to Z's business.

Harry was quality. And being quality, would
see his proposition as helping rather than hurting. See it as a
good opportunity for Z.

"But I got to be frank with you, Harry. So
far, I have barely enough business to keep one man alive. I don't
know how ..."

"Of course," Harry interrupted to agree.
"What I'm talking is the future. I'm talking long range. Five
years. Ten years, even."

Z could breathe again. If Z's luck held, Z
would be dead by then.

"If I were you, what I'd do, if you're
interested, is look around and try to locate potential operatives.
I understand that you have certain contacts already. On police
forces here and there. And perhaps more ... unsavory ... but highly
useful, intermediaries elsewhere. Something all to the good. I'm
merely suggesting that you expand that kind of help."

"I ...."

"For instance, if I were
to throw a job your way that took the talents of someone I
mentioned earlier, could you find a qualified person to work the
job? I provide the money. You provide the personnel who, with your
help, could go forward. All that I'm asking, Mr. Zapolska, is that
you do what
I
have done."

"What ...?"

"If I need work done North-of-the-River
where I lack expertise, I hire a local -- named Bob Zapolska."

"I see that."

"Well. Think it over. No hurry. If you
decide to go this direction, give me a call. You might also let me
know who you've got, so I can throw a little business your way,
making use of the talents of your part-time operatives. And then,
we'll see."

"Might take awhile."

"No problem. This is not something that's
going to happen immediately, if it ever does. But over the next
year or two, if you come up with someone who allows you to
diversify, get in touch."

"Sure."

"That'll do it then. I hope to hear from
you, Mr. Zapolska."

"Thanks." ..........................

Z had signed off saying
"Thanks" to
Harry
. But was saying "
Sweet
Jesus
!" to
himself
! About all any
man
could
say
when being forced to flip a coin with "opportunity" on one side,
"ruination" on the other!