Where Fools Dare to Tread

by David William Pearce

  “They attacked you again?” Her head rose to look at me.

  “Yeah, but this time I saw them first. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t. Fortunately, I didn’t get the shit kicked out of me this time.”

  “So your night was as good as mine.” Agnes slumped back into her chair.

  I put away the cups and the plates and looked through the kitchen window, peering out onto her little backyard. There was a set of outdoor furniture and a kettle BBQ. A large tree from the neighbor shaded the yard. It was a nice quiet place, much like the persimmon grove I had back in Virginia. I sat back down. Agnes looked at me with a mixture of hope and fear. What a mess. How did I turn into this woman’s savior? I could barely save myself. I reached for her hand and she pulled me towards her. I caught her and I held her as she cried herself out. It was becoming clear to me how badly broken she had become after Simon left her. A deep terrible sorrow poured out of her. What else to do but let it out? I held her as best I could, something I often struggled to do all those years ago with Astral and Rebekah, funny how time changes you. After a while it slowed, then stopped. I brushed the hair out of her face.

  “Better?”

  “A little.”

  “That’s something. Why don’t we get you cleaned up and I’ll treat you to lunch.”

  A soft yes came out of her, but she held on tight for a while longer before letting go and heading for the bathroom. I called Johnny D to tell him she was all right and that I’d bring her over after lunch. That was good he said.

  He also wanted to talk.

  Lunch was a somber affair. Agnes did her best to put on a brave face given everything that had happened. I did my best to be sympathetic. Besides, whatever had happened last night, and she seemed reticent to talk about it, I couldn’t cast stones. I’d had my share of blowups and public scenes as well as embarrassing family moments. Everyone has an occasional emotional meltdown, and it’s always after the pressure’s spent that you have to figure out how to unscrew what you’ve screwed up.

  We stopped at a sandwich shop not far from where she worked. I hadn’t eaten much in last twenty-four hours and was hungry, ordering a large club. Agnes was not and picked at her salad, her eyes hidden behind a pair of large sunglasses, and her head down. The silence was unbearable. I was trying to not feel responsible, but that wasn’t working. We sat there wallowing in uncertainty. Maybe this was it. Agnes was sad and unhappy, and I had no idea how to make it better.

  “What do you want to do, Agnes?”

  “I don’t know, I feel so stupid. I’ve made a complete ass of myself in front of everyone I know.”

  “It can’t be that bad…”

  “Really? I yelled at my daughter, lied to you, drank too much, stupidly thought I’d get back at you with some guy I met at the bar only to freak-out in his car, and finished off the night acting so crazy Rey had to take me home.”

  “When did you yell at your daughter?”

  “After I got her text.” Agnes slumped in her chair.

  “Alright, so you had your moments yesterday. We all have them; it’s not the end of the world. Besides, it’s not as bad as you think. Johnny’s more concerned than upset, I understand why you said what you said, and I don’t care what happened with the guy at the bar. You can call your daughter and explain. You never know. Tell her you love her, you’re sorry, and that you’d still like to see her even if she only has a little bit of time. Then I’ll take you to hippy-land to meet my freaky extended family and that should make you feel better.”

  “You still want to go?” She seemed surprised.

  “Might as well, the car’s ready and we could use the break.”

  “I’m a fuck-up, Monk!”

  “Aren’t we all? Look, I’m not expecting you to be the perfect woman, ok? If I’m honest, I like being around you because you make me feel good and you seem to like me. What else is there, really? We all have bad days; that’s life. As for the trip, why not go? We might have a good time. What do you say?” I sensed a lift in her spirits. She did her best to smile. “It’s unlikely to be as bad as last night was for you or for me. It’ll be good to get away for a few days. The weather should be nice and I can be reasonable company most of the time.”

  “Fine. If you’ve got your heart set on my ruining your weekend, who am I to say no.”

  “That’s what I like to hear, beautiful.”

  Now she was smiling.

  “I like it when you call me that. It’s nicer than Agnes.”

  “You don’t like Agnes?”

  “No.”

  “Ok, I’ll call you beautiful from now on, unless you piss me off. How’s that?”

  I got a laugh and she was eating.

  “I can live with that,” she admitted.

  The remainder of our lunch felt lighter and our trip more promising. Johnny D was in the office when we got there. He assured Agnes that he understood. They talked a bit about business, the things he needed before we took off. He then waved me over and I promised to be right back. We headed through the bar towards his back office. I said hello to Rey who was prepping the bar. Rey nodded and went back to work. Johnny sat down and motioned for me to do the same.

  “I want to thank you for taking care of Agnes, Monk.”

  “No problem. I think we got everything worked out.”

  “That’s good, that’s good.” I didn’t quite know what to make of Johnny D. You can’t be a softy in his line of work, and from what I’d heard, he wasn’t. But this thing with Agnes… I didn’t get it. “How goes the search for Desiree Marshan?”

  “It goes. I’m certain she’s shacked up with Martin Delashay. His wife believes they’re hiding somewhere along the coast.”

  “Judith Delashay, the woman Agnes thinks you’re fooling around with?”

  “Yeah, she’s the one, and I’m not fooling around with her.”

  Johnny D. was having none of it. “She’s a beautiful woman, Mrs. Delashay, and no doubt interested in her husband’s arrangement with the Marshan woman. I’m not going to judge what happens between you and her, Monk, you’re your own man. Sometimes you have to make choices in what you do. Just don’t kid yourself as to the motive behind those choices.”

  “I have no illusions when it comes to Mrs. Delashay. Nor do I have any illusions about what’s motivating her. It’s not me, and it’s not whatever sexual thing Martin has for Desiree. It’s money, and a lot of it. The question is why so many others are interested in it, how they fit in. You, for instance, where does Johnny D fit in?”

  Johnny D leaned in, putting his hands on the desk. “My interest is in the money, I won’t deny that, but not in the way you believe. I have all the wealth I need, Monk. My interest, for now, is in those involved, their motives. Times are changing. Attitudes are changing. Opportunities are possible that were not possible just a few years ago. That’s what interests me. I like the action. I hear the whispers, the possibilities, that’s why I’m interested. Just as I’m interested in whether you can get this done.”

  “Would you put money on it?”

  He laughed. “Maybe, if I like the odds.”

  “I’d put them at even.”

  Johnny sat back. “Good enough. So, what’s next?”

  “Whatever Martin and Desiree are up to, they’re concerned enough to go after me twice and to push Agnes over it. They’re afraid of something. I believe I know what that is, but I’ll keep that close till I have some more proof. For now, I plan to lay low. Agnes wants to go see her daughter, and I should go see my old man. That may lead them to think I’m backing off. It’ll give my computer guy time to find what he can.”

 
“And Mr. Jones?”

  The lovable Orville Riley. “I don’t know. I think my getting jumped spooked his wife. He might not be as interested as before. I thought maybe he could check down at the hall of records for property in the name of Delashay, Sphere, Tophanovich, or Denesova. Or he could keep an eye on Dahlia Leonard.”

  I was out of ideas.

  “I see. Well, keep me informed, Monk.”

  “I will.” I stood up. “And while I know my relationship with Mrs. Delashay might be suspect, I want you to know that I care about Agnes and I would never knowingly hurt her.”

  Johnny D walked me to the door. “I believe you, but you can’t fool me, Monk. And I know Agnes. I know how she grows on you. Minus the foolish edges, she has a generous heart and she will take hold of yours. Are you prepared for that?”

  “There are worse things that being loved or cared for. I know; I’ve been there. Thanks for the talk.”

  “Anytime.”

  I still didn’t get Johnny’s angle on any of this.

  26

  I went over to the bar and asked Rey for a whiskey and water. Rey served it up with his usual faux smile. It tasted good. The bar was growing on me. Sure, it was quiet, gloomy, with only a small amount of natural light making its way past the fixed shutters, but I didn’t feel like a stranger here. Unlike so many other parts of this huge sprawling megalopolis, I didn’t feel invisible. It was a good place to think. Johnny’s words were ringing in my ears; she will take hold of you. I was trying to adjust to that thought, trying to decide if that was good or bad. Was today a harbinger of things to come or was it a temporary storm?

  I took a drink.

  Agnes came from the office and sat beside me.

  “Can I have a tonic with lime, Rey?” Rey nodded.

  “Back to normal?” Sometimes it’s important to ask.

  “I guess.” Rey set down the tonic and put his hand on hers and nodded again. “Thanks, Rey, for everything.”

  “Anytime, Agnes, you know that.” Rey winked and went back to the other side of the bar. I looked over at Agnes; she was stirring the tonic with her finger.

  “I’m sorry about this morning.” She was speaking so softly I could barely hear her.

  “Why?”

  “Cuz I don’t want you to think I’m some crazy out of control woman.”

  “I don’t think that.” Well, maybe a little.

  “It’s just that the day started out so well, and then it went from bad to worse to terrible. I haven’t seen Anna in months, and I miss her, and I’m trying really hard to be understanding about Simon and Eric, and then that guy called about you. It was just too much.”

  “It’s ok.” I put my arm around her.

  “Monk…”

  “What?” She looked me in the eye and ran her hand along the still bruised left side of my face.

  “It’s nothing. Would you like to do something together tonight? I thought if we’re leaving tomorrow, maybe it would be easier if you stayed with me, then we could take off from there.”

  I thought about it. It made sense, but oddly, I was having cold feet. I didn’t know if I really wanted to go up north.

  “I suppose we could, I…”

  The goddamned phone was ringing again. I let go of Agnes.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Buttman, this is Taylor Lagenfelder. Mr. Durant is asking to see you, this afternoon if possible.” Like I would blow off Marsyas Durant.

  “I can be there in an hour if that’s convenient?”

  “That would fine, Mr. Buttman. We’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

  Agnes had a quizzical look on her face. “Anyone I should worry about?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I was lying. “However, I have to go down to Aeschylus and Associates and talk to the boss.” She was holding my arm.

  “Will you be back?” The cold feet were warming.

  “I’ll be back. This’ll give me a chance to go home and grab a few things today instead of tomorrow morning. When I get back we can hit the store, get some food and snacks for the trip. Do you have a cooler or picnic basket?”

  “No. Simon took them.”

  “Then I bring mine. You’ll like them, hip, old school. Sound good?”

  “Sounds good,” I gently pulled away.

  “I’ll see you in a few hours.” I gave her a long soft kiss.

  Leave ‘em smiling.

  Taylor Lagenfelder met me in the lobby. I tried to discern whether she had considered my earlier proposal or not. For a young woman, she was no fool, careful not to say too much or overplay her hand.

  “It’s good to see you, Mr. Buttman. Your appearance is improving.”

  “Small favors, Ms. Lagenfelder, small favors.” I waited until we were safely ensconced in the elevator to pop the question. “Have you thought about my request from the other day?”

  “I have. Unfortunately, I’ve been very busy and haven’t had the time to look into it. I won’t access any information on Martin Delashay unless I’m directed to by someone with the authority to do so. As for Mr. Boyer…” Ms. Lagenfelder hesitated. Hesitation is good, right? “...He did not have a sterling reputation among the staff.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that he made a number of the women working here uncomfortable by indulging in inappropriate comments and suggestions. I haven’t inquired into his relationship with Ms. Marshan, but I do know that several individuals heard rumors that it went beyond the bounds of our corporate policies regarding personal relationships. Anyway, Mr. Durant has discouraged the staff from talking about Mr. Boyer, Desiree Marshan, and the incident between them.”

  “I see.” We had reached Mr. Durant’s suite. I entered while Ms. Lagenfelder stayed in the elevator. Mr. Durant was at his desk.

  “Come in, Monk. Have a seat.”

  I took the seat across from the desk and waited as he worked through the papers on his desk. He spoke without looking up.

  “I was told you were attacked again last night.”

  “Yeah, same two guys, only this time I came out of it in better shape.”

  “Good for you. Do you know why they were targeting you?” He looked up.

  “Because of Desiree Marshan, but it could also be about Judith Delashay. Either way, they want me to stop looking for Martin and Desiree.”

  Mr. Durant sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands together as if they were dirty or cold. “What did Judith have to say?”

  I wonder how he knew I’d been seeing Judith. Was he behind the tail? Had she spoken to him? “She believes Martin has run off with Desiree, that they’re holed up somewhere along the coast.”

  “Did she say why she believes that?”

  “She says he’s run off before, but didn’t elaborate as to why she thought he was at a beach house. I assume she would have said something if they owned one. Do you know if he owns one that his wife might not know about?”

  “I couldn’t say. Not that I’m being diffuse, but I don’t know all the particulars of the many people we represent. Would you like us to look?”

  “I would.” Marsyas Durant had a quiet face. It didn’t shift or fuss, no ticks to alert those watching him to what was on his mind. His expressions were muted. I imagined it worked well for him.

  “What else have you uncovered, Monk?”

  “Mostly stories and possibilities, but no clear-cut reason for why this is what’s going on. It might involve a lot of money, maybe not. It might have to do with Sphere, Martin’s old company, or his partner, Jeremy Tophanovich,
then again maybe not. I found evidence that Martin knew of Desiree’s adult film work, that he had copies of her films. It’s possible he was part of a group that availed itself of her services. It may involve drug money, but then again, maybe not.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Ever heard of a man named Miguel Benitez?”

  Durant raised his eyebrows just a touch. “I do know Mr. Benitez. How do you know him?”

  “We grew up together. After I left, I heard he became an enforcer. He looked me up after this started. I don’t know how he knew I was involved, but he said he represented people who were interested in Desiree Marshan too.”

  “Interesting. Let me ask you this, how you see these possibilities coming together, Monk?”

  He was tapping the fingers of his hands together.

  “As an assumption, one might conclude that money from drug profits in the late Eighties and early Nineties were laundered through Sphere using a security program as a cover; that the people who originally moved the money were killed, so that the money remained quietly hidden in foreign accounts. It’s possible that because the Delashay’s were principle owners in Sphere, their participation would be required in order to repatriate the money. I don’t know how someone like Desiree Marshan would know about this, but maybe our wildcard did, and he started the ball rolling.”

  “Our wildcard being the deceased, Mr. Boyer…”

  “Yes.”

  Mr. Marsyas Durant smiled. He rose out of his chair and came to the front of his desk. It was a little intimidating.

  “That’s quite a convoluted tale. Do you believe it?”

  “Yes and no. Benitez inferred that it could be true; but that it could also be nothing more than something certain people choose to believe. I think it’s possible, but I wouldn’t put money on it.”

  “So what’s your next step?”

  I hesitated to say. Still. “I’m going to go north. Both as a feign to the people after me so they will think I’m backing off, and to see the old man…” I paused, collecting my thoughts. “Benitez said I should ask him about you and the early days. I don’t exactly know what he meant by that. Meanwhile I have a guy doing some computer research about Desiree’s fan club to see if we can find anything there.”