“Why do you ask?” I am known for disliking questions about my past, who I am, where I’m from, stuff like that.
“Because you remind me of a man I knew years ago, a man named Moses Bohrman. He and a few of his fellow travelers had a commune up north, near Ukiah. Ever been there?”
“I’ve been there.”
“And Moses?”
“I know him.” It began to dawn on me that I knew Durant, if only vaguely. He was that passing face, somebody to see the old man or one of his fellow travelers, an outsider, a man from the machine, a conduit to another world.
“I thought so. Many years ago, just as I was starting in this business, I was sent up north to run a few errands, and I had some dealings with Moses, a bit of a character as I remember. You’re his son, correct? I remember you with the other kids working the animals, all that fun farm stuff.”
Damn.
“It was what it was. I haven’t seen the old man in some time, but I doubt he’s changed any.” I hadn’t anticipated talking about my past. I thought this would be about Desiree and the cops. A dull ache was creeping up the back of my neck. The word setup accompanied the ache. “Not that I don’t want to talk about the long-lost past, but what’s the connection here, Mr. Durant? I thought we’d be discussing something other than my unconventional childhood.” He had a pencil in his hand and was taping it on the edge of his big expensive desk.
“So did I, and we will get to the matter at hand, but there was something about our first meeting that stuck, and for whatever reason today, probably because of this sordid business, a light went off as to why, and it was that you reminded me of someone, and that someone was Moses. It’s just something that popped into my head. It’s not my intention to make you uncomfortable.” I could see that was untrue.
I had first met Durant in the middle of nowhere, north of the city, on the secondary roads that lead to the palaces of the rich overlooking the ocean. It was a beautiful day and I had no interest in working, so I went for a drive. He was to the side of the road standing by his car. The front passenger wheel had collapsed on itself and he flagged me down. It was a classic Mercedes convertible, silver with a white interior. It looked well cared for so I was a little surprised that the bearing had failed. Durant seemed more perturbed that his phone didn’t work than what had happened to his car. It turned out he had forgotten to charge it. He asked to use mine and was perplexed that I didn’t have a phone to call for help.
“Who doesn’t have a phone these days?”
“I might be it.” I gave him a lift and that led to talk of old cars, clothes, and my contract work at A and A. As they say, it’s who you know. I considered it happenstance, but now I wondered.
“How did your talk with the police go?”
“Oh, pretty much as I expected. They asked about my statement, what I saw, what about Desiree and Boyer, and what were you and your associates really up to and why was I covering for you; maybe I killed Boyer in a jealous rage. It was what I assume to be the usual.”
Durant smiled at that.
“They like to believe that Aeschylus and Associates is always up to something. You were circumspect in your responses concerning Ms. Marshan?”
“I played dumb, and in truth, other than what I saw, I really don’t know much. I have my suspicions, but nothing I could swear to.” He sat back, looking off towards the ocean. For a moment he seemed someplace else. I waited for him to come back. “Should I ask why I’m not telling them everything? I would think that if a low-level employee killed one of your up and coming young lawyers, that you’d be quick to turn her over, even if you were looking to do it as quietly as possible?”
He turned his attention back to me.
“Monk,” he put the pencil down and leaned forward, “ordinarily, you and I would not be discussing this, one of our, as you say, up and comers would be handling whatever work we were asking you to do. I’d hear of it if they thought it important enough. Obviously, we don’t expect our employees, whatever their position, to be killing one another. It doesn’t make for a harmonious work environment, nor does it speak well of those we choose to hire. Even in this case, normally, I would have had Ms. Lagenfelder, or another of our associates, interview you, communicate our wishes and so on. But this is, unfortunately, more problematic, and I’m concerned enough that I’ve decided to permit you to be more informed in this matter. Some of this has to do with my questions about your history. I don’t consider you to be the usual type of courier or messenger that we routinely employ. I assumed you gathered that given the kinds of messages we give you as well as the responses they sometimes elicit. Some things we like to keep quiet until we feel we have enough information or control over the situation. You don’t attract a lot of attention, Monk.” That was twice now that he used my first name. “I believe I can bring you into my confidence and that you will be discrete with what we discuss.”
He stood up and walked over to the window. I didn’t know whether I should say anything or not. “I’ll do what I can, Mr. Durant.”
He stood there and I felt an impulse to run for the door. Lately, my one goal in life has been to avoid as many entanglements as possible. Over the years I’d found that people will get themselves mixed and twisted up to the point where there’s no unraveling them. It’s like standing, mesmerized, on the precipice of a deep dark hole from which, if they took that step, they would never return. I was feeling that tug, that tangling, and I didn’t like it; too much like James and what killed him.
“I need to talk to Ms. Marshan. I need to know what she was doing with Mr. Boyer. Beyond their sexual encounters, which I believe were predatory, it appears they were engaged in a plan they meant to keep from the rest of the firm. It involves the individuals you met yesterday, John and Martin, and I believe it was meant to finance illegal activities. For now, the police think this was just a sexual tryst gone bad. I think it best they continue to approach it that way. They are unaware of the money Ms. Marshan took with her.” He turned to me and leaned against the glass. “Were you aware that she left with a satchel of money?”
“Yes, she said she was taking the money. She wanted the documents too, but I refused. I asked her why she wanted them, but she wouldn’t say. At the time she was, understandably, freaked out. I don’t know that she meant to kill Boyer or if they were partners in anything. I think he went too far and she lost control.”
“That’s why we need to find her. And that’s where I want you to come in. As you noted, the police will be more attentive to the activities of this firm as concerns Mr. Boyer. They may or may not be watching you. I have some contacts in the police department that will advise me of their suspicions. We can use that to our advantage. The money was to go to John. I expect he’ll want answers, and he has people who are good at finding people. I want you to tag along.”
Tag along doing what?
“I’m not a detective, Mr. Durant.” I’m a nobody remember?
“I’m aware of that. I’ve had a chat with John, or as he’s better known, Mr. Dulcimer, or Johnny D, and made it clear that it benefits both of us to find and interview Ms. Marshan. He has a man who is experienced in finding people, and I explained that it’s important for you to be a part of this.”
“Can I ask what this is all about? Am I going to be involved in something violent or illegal, because if it’s that, then I’m out? They’re not going to find bits and pieces of me along the highway.”
That made him smile in a way that suggested he’d heard about James. He moved to the cabinet discreetly hiding the bar. “So you know that story? I thought you might. I’m probably more aware of your past than you’d like. You’ve gone to great lengths to distance yourself from it and I admire that. Many of your friends did not end up as they thought they would. Would you like a
drink, Monk?”
“Whiskey is fine.” He brought out two glasses from the bar and a bottle. After filling the glasses, he handed me one before sitting on the couch by the window.
“To answer your question, it appears Mr. Boyer was looking to transfer certain overseas funds back to the states. The question is why? Mr. Dulcimer is in the business of financing activities that can sometimes border the letter of the law. However, in my talk with Mr. Dulcimer yesterday, he was unaware that Mr. Boyer had plans to utilize his services. He was expecting the money Ms. Marshan took and was none too pleased that she had run off with it.”
“And Martin?”
“That I don’t know. I have certain suspicions, but until I have more information I don’t have an answer to that or that Martin Delashay is in any way involved.”
“Can I ask what Martin Delashay does?”
“You don’t know?” Durant took a drink, probably to hide the grin on his face. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I was not a connoisseur of people and what makes them well known. “Mr. Delashay is prominent in the computer software industry. Anyone with a computer or smartphone is aware of his company’s contribution to our modern marvels. But as the last man on earth, or in this country, without a phone, I guess your ignorance is understandable.” Apparently he was still amused by that.
“So how will I get in touch with John’s man?”
“He’ll be in touch with you, if not today, then soon.” He finished the whiskey in his glass and stood up. I took this to mean we were winding things down. “I expect that you’ll keep me informed concerning the search for Ms. Marshan. I would also advise that you keep your eyes and ears open just in case.”
“Just in case of what?”
“I believe you’ll know when it presents itself to you.” Let’s hope so. He went to his desk and made arrangements for my safe return home. The elevator delivered me to the parking garage, which delivered me to the cab. I spent the ride home contemplating my options.
I forgot to ask about compensation.
6
Mr. Jones was at the front of my door. He was at least six foot four and looked to be as solid as a rock. He was a dark-hued black man with a shaved head, thick sunglasses, and a black suit. He looked like everything white boys were scared of in a black man. A sheen of sweat covered the top of his head. It amazed me that anyone would wear a black suit this time of year. I approached him with some trepidation.
“Can I help you?”
“You Monk Buttman?”
“Yeah, you Dulcimer’s man?” His eyebrows rose at that.
“I’m my own man, Buttman. As I understand it, you and I have business to attend to.”
“Yeah, I heard that too.” We stood there eyeing one another for no particular reason. “Would you like to come in?” He said nothing but motioned towards the door. “Can I get you anything to drink, Mr…?”
“Jones, and I’m not here to socialize.”
“Not even water?”
“Not even water.” He stood and watched as I retrieved a bottle from the fridge. I felt oddly self-conscious drinking water in my own place.
“So what’s the plan, Mr. Jones? Or, more precisely, what can I do to assist you in finding Desiree Marshan?”
“I don’t think you can do a damn thing to help me, Buttman, but I need to find that woman and my money, and Dulcimer tells me you have to tag along. I don’t like that, but sometimes life makes you walk a crooked mile.”
“I see. Are we heading out now…later?”
“Don’t worry, you won’t miss your date with Agnes. Besides, I’m waiting to hear from a man I know about where this Desiree likes to run off to.” He faintly smiled at the mention of my date. “I’ll be here tomorrow, bright and early. If you’re not going to be here then you can call me at this number.” A small card materialized from the breast pocket of his suit. “What’s your number, Buttman, in case I need to call?” He handed me the card.
“I don’t carry a phone, Mr. Jones.”
“What?” A moment of silence fell between us. I could hear the birds chirping outside. “What kind of motherfucker doesn’t have a goddamned phone?”
“Motherfuckers like me.”
“Well, motherfucker,” he said with a smile that completely changed his demeanor from that of hard-determined man, “let me give you some advice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, get one.”
“I don’t like phones.”
“I don’t care about your personal bullshit, Buttman. Get a phone. We got work to do!” He opened the door letting in the light, “Bright and early, Buttman; bright and early.”
The birds continued singing as the large black man took his leave. I was curious how he knew I was to see Agnes tonight, but as he had to have seen Dulcimer, and Agnes worked there; it might have come up. The sunlight was streaming through the window above the shade. I had a few hours to kill before my rendezvous with what I hoped was at least a pleasant woman, and decided a nap would work out well. I locked the door and fell asleep on the couch.
The light, which had been so warm and inviting before, had thinned, waking me. If I was going to make it out to meet Agnes, it was time to go. I got off the couch and took stock of myself, I’d looked worse. Other than too many people on the road, the trip to the bar and Agnes was uneventful. There was plenty of parking in the deteriorating lot, and the joint was ambling along, filled with what I assumed were its regulars. Agnes, as she had said, was situated at the end of the bar. Rey tended to the others while keeping an eye on the ballgame illuminating the rather dank establishment. I raised my hand as she saw me and we met about halfway across the room.
“I’m glad you made good on your promise to have a drink with me.” Her hair was down, caressing her shoulders. The smile I remembered was there as she looked up at me. An incredible feeling of desire drew me in. Agnes’s visual charms were self-evident. It didn’t hurt that the blouse and slacks she was wearing accentuated her fine curves, or that one more button on her blouse was undone, allowing an even better appreciation of her wonderful breasts.
“I’d be a fool not to accept such an offer.”
“Yes, you would.” Her hand took hold of my arm. “What would you like to drink? Are you hungry? I could have Mel make you a little something if you’d like?”
“A drink would be nice, soda and whiskey, and since you mentioned it, I am a little hungry. What’s good here? ” I wanted to say besides you, but I knew better; one step at a time.
“The steak sandwich is good. Care to share one? Mel doesn’t scrimp when I order.”
“Sounds good.”
She led me to a circular booth off in the corner. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” The booth offered a strategic viewpoint from which to observe the comings and goings of the joint. I watched Agnes’ hips sway as she approached the bar to put in our order and retrieve our drinks. It was easy to imagine how delightful she might be, warm and naked, lying beside me. She was speaking to who I assumed was Mel. There were maybe twenty people in the bar. Dulcimer came out from the back with a tall slender man. Both were overdressed given the location. I was the only other man wearing a suit, tee shirts and jeans being the couture of the place. The man with Dulcimer looked familiar, but I couldn’t make out his face. Agnes returned with our drinks, sliding up next to me, her perfume filling my senses.
“Here you go.”
I took the drink from her hand.
“You look good with your hair down, it accentuates your smile.”
“Thanks. It’s always nice to hear a compliment.” She was wearing more makeup than she had the day before, highlighting her eyes and mo
uth. “You’d be surprised how little that happens anymore. You look good in that suit, it goes with your eyes.” Her hand was caressing the sleeve of my jacket. “I like a man who dresses for the occasion.”
I got the impression that if I leaned in for a kiss, I would not be rebuffed. Her breath carried the scent of gin. I could tell this wasn’t her first drink. That made me both apprehensive and excited. She must have noticed something in my eyes, or was adept at reading my mind, for the next thing I knew she was pulling me close and putting her lips to mine. It was a wet, sloppy kiss. Agnes used her whole mouth. I saw no reason not to reciprocate so ten minutes into our drink together we were necking in the corner booth. After a minute or two we sat back.
“I like a man who knows how to kiss a woman.” I was now wondering how many drinks she’d had. Maybe my eyes had nothing to do with it.
“I try not to disappoint.”
Rey approached with our meal. A large steak sandwich cut in two with a generous side of fries and a bottle of ketchup.
“Here’s your food, folks.” He put the plate between us. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Johnny would like a word with Mr. Buttman.” Agnes frowned at this. I looked over at the bar and could see Dulcimer leaning against the bar. He made a quick gesture to me.
“Sure.” Turning to Agnes, “I’ll be right back.” She took a fry and placed it in her mouth, none too thrilled. Rey and I went to the bar.
“I apologize for calling you over, Mr. Buttman; I can see that Agnes is unhappy with me. I just need a minute of your time.”
“Not a problem.”
“Good. You and Mr. Jones will be looking for Ms. Marshan, and that inquiry may bring you into my business concerns. I expect the same level of confidence you provide to Mr. Durant and his associates. Any information concerning me and my affairs I expect to be informed of. I’m a generous man to those who appreciate and contribute to my endeavors, but not so much to those who do not. Do we have an understanding, Mr. Buttman?”
Where Fools Dare to Tread Page 5