Time to Murder and Create

by Lawrence Block

Page 4

 

  "Im representing the Michael Litvak project. "

  If that registered, Prager wasnt letting on. She conveyed his continued puzzlement. "The Hit-and-Run Cooperative," I said. "The Michael Litvak project. Its a confidential matter, Im sure hell want to see me. "

  I was sure he wouldnt want to see me at all, actually, but she repeated my words and he couldnt really avoid it. "Hell see you now," she said, and nodded her curly little head at a door marked PRIVATE.

  His office was spacious, the far wall all glass with a rather impressive view of a city that looks better the higher up you go. The decor was traditional, in sharp contrast to the harsh modern furnishings of the reception room. The walls were paneled in dark wood-individual boards, not the plywood stuff. The carpet was the color of tawny port wine. There were a lot of pictures on the walls, all of them seascapes, all unmistakably the work of Mrs. Henry Prager.

  I had seen his picture in the papers Id scanned in the microfilm room at the library. Just head-and-shoulder shots, but they had prepared me for a larger man than the one who now stood up behind the broad leather-topped desk. And the face in the Bachrach photo had beamed with calm assurance. Now it was lined with apprehension pinned in place by caution. I approached the desk, and we stood looking each other over. He seemed to be considering whether or not to offer his hand. He decided against it.

  He said, "Your name is Scudder?"

  "Thats right. "

  "Im not sure what you want. "

  Neither was I. There was a red leather chair with wooden arms near the desk. I pulled it up and sat in it while he was still on his feet. He hesitated a moment, then seated himself. I waited for a few seconds on the off chance that he might have something to say. But he was pretty good at waiting.

  I said, "I mentioned a name before. Michael Litvak. "

  "I dont know the name. "

  "Then Ill mention another. Jacob Jablon. "

  "I dont know that name, either. "

  "Dont you? Mr. Jablon was an associate of mine. We did some business together. "

  "What kind of business would that be?"

  "Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Nothing as successful as your line of work, Im afraid. Youre an architectural consultant?"

  "Thats correct. "

  "Large-scale projects. Housing developments, office buildings, that sort of thing. "

  "Thats hardly classified information, Mr. Scudder. "

  "It must pay well. "

  He looked at me.

  "Actually, the phrase you just used. Classified information. Thats what I really wanted to talk to you about. "

  "Oh?"

  "My associate Mr. Jablon had to leave town abruptly. "

  "I dont see how-"

  "He retired," I said. "He was a man who worked hard all his life, Mr. Prager, and he came into a sum of money, you see, and he retired. "

  "Perhaps you could come to the point. "

  I took a silver dollar out of my pocket and gave it a spin, but, unlike Spinner, I kept my eyes on Pragers face instead of on the coin. He could have taken that face to any poker game in town and done just fine with it. Assuming he played his cards right.

  "You dont see many of these," I said. "I went into a bank a couple of hours ago and tried to buy one. They just stared at me and then told me to go see a coin dealer. I thought a dollar was a dollar, you know? Thats the way it used to be. It seems the silver content alone in these things is worth two or three bucks, and the collector value is even higher. I had to pay seven dollars for this thing, believe it or not. "

  "Why did you want it?"

  "Just for luck. Mr. Jablon has a coin just like this one. Or at least it looked the same to me. Im not a numismatist. Thats a coin expert. "

  "I know what a numismatist is. "

  "Well, I only found that out today, while I was finding out that a dollars not a dollar any more. Mr. Jablon could have saved me seven bucks if hed left his dollar with me when he went out of town. But he left me something else thats probably worth a little more than seven dollars. See, he gave me this envelope full of papers and things. Some of them have your name on them. And your daughters name, and some other names I mentioned. Michael Litvak, for example, but thats not a name you recognize, is it?"

  The dollar had stopped spinning. Spinner had always snatched it up when it started to wobble, but I just let it drop. It landed heads.

  "I thought since those papers had your name on them, along with those other names, I thought you might like to own them. "

  He didnt say anything, and I couldnt think of anything else to say. I picked up the silver dollar and gave it another spin. This time we both watched it. It stayed spinning for quite a while on the leather desk top. Then it glanced off a photograph in a silver frame, wobbled uncertainly, and landed heads again.

  Prager picked up his desk phone and pushed a buzzer. He said, "Thats all for today, Shari. Just put the machine on and go ahead home. " Then, after a pause: "No, they can wait, Ill sign them tomorrow. You can head along home now. Fine. "

  Neither of us spoke until the door of the outer office opened and closed. Then Prager leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his shirt front. He was a rather plump man, but there was no spare flesh on his hands. They were slender, with long fingers.

  He said, "I gather you want to take up where-what was his name?"

  "Jablon. "

  "Where Jablon took off. "

  "Something like that. "

  "Im not a rich man, Mr. Scudder. "

  "Youre not starving. "

  "No," he agreed. "I am not starving. " He looked past me for a moment, probably at a seascape. He said, "My daughter Stacy went through a difficult period in her life. In the course of it, she had a very unfortunate accident. "

  "A little boy died. "

  "A little boy died. At the risk of sounding callous, Ill point out that that sort of thing happens all the time. Human beings-children, adults, what does it matter-people are killed accidentally every day. "

  I thought of Estrellita Rivera with a bullet in her eye. I dont know if anything showed in my face.

  "Stacys situation-her culpability, if you want to call if that-stemmed not from the accident but from her response after the fact. She didnt stop. If she had stopped, it would not have helped the boy at all. He was killed instantly. "

  "Did she know that?"

  He closed his eyes for a moment. "I dont know," he said. "Is that pertinent?"

  "Probably not. "

  "The accident… if she had stopped as she should have done, Im sure she would have been exonerated. The boy rode his tricycle right off the curb in front of her. "

  "I understand she was on drugs at the time. "

  "If you want to call marijuana a drug. "

  "It doesnt matter what we call it, does it? Maybe she could have avoided the accident if she hadnt been stoned. Or maybe she would have had the judgment to stop once she hit the kid. Not that it matters any more. She was high, and she did hit the boy, and she didnt stop the car, and you managed to buy her off. "

  "Was I wrong to do that, Scudder?"

  "How do I know?"

  "Do you have children?" I hesitated, then nodded. "What would you have done?"

  I thought about my sons. They werent old enough to drive yet. Were they old enough to smoke marijuana? It was possible. And what would I do in Henry Pragers place?

  "Whatever I had to do," I said. "To get them off. "

  "Of course. Any father would. "

  "It must have cost you a lot of money. "

  "More than I could afford. But I couldnt have afforded not to, you see. "

  I picked up my silver dollar and looked at it. The date was 1878. It was a good deal older than I was, and had held up a lot better.

  "I thought it was over," he said. "It was a nightmare, but I managed to straighten everything out. The people I dealt with, they realized that Stacy was not a criminal. She was a good girl from
a good family who went through a difficult period in life. Thats not uncommon, you know. They recognized that there was no reason to ruin a second life because a horrible accident had taken one life. And the experience-its awful to say this, but it helped Stacy. She grew as a result of it. She matured. She stopped using drugs, of course. And her life took on more purpose. "

  "Whats she doing now?"

  "Shes in graduate school at Columbia. Psychology. She plans to work with mentally retarded children. "

  "Shes what, twenty-one?"

  "Twenty-two last month. She was nineteen at the time of the accident. "

  "I suppose she has an apartment here in town?"

  "Thats correct. Why?"

  "No reason. She turned out all right, then. "

  "All my children turned out well, Scudder. Stacy had a difficult year or two, thats all. " His eyes sharpened their focus suddenly. "And how long do I have to pay for that one mistake? Thats what Id like to know. "

  "Im sure you would. "

  "Well?"

  "How deep did Jablon have the hook in you?"

  "I dont understand. "

  "What were you paying him?"

  "I thought he was your associate. "

  "It was a loose association. How much?"

  He hesitated, then shrugged. "The first time he came I gave him five thousand dollars. He gave the impression that one payment would be the end of it. "

  "It never is. "

  "So I understand. Then he came back a while later. He told me he needed more money. We finally put things on a business basis. So much a month. "

  "How much?"

  "Two thousand dollars a month. "

  "You could afford that. "

  "Not all that easily. " He managed a small smile. "I was hoping I could find a way to deduct it, you know. Charge it to the business in some fashion. "

  "Did you find a way?"

  "No. Why are you asking all this? Trying to determine just how much you can squeeze out of me?"

  "No. "

  "This whole conversation," he said suddenly. "Theres something wrong with it. You dont seem like a blackmailer. "

  "How so?"

  "I dont know. That man was a weasel, he was calculating, slimy. Youre calculating, but in a different way. "

  "It takes all kinds. "

  He stood up. "I wont go on paying indefinitely," he said. "I cant live with a sword hanging over me. Damn it, I shouldnt have to. "

  "Well work something out. "

  "I dont want my daughters life ruined. But I wont be bled to death. "

  I picked up the silver dollar and put it in my pocket. I couldnt make myself believe he had killed the Spinner, but at the same time I couldnt positively rule him out, and I was getting sick of the role I was playing. I pushed my chair back and got to my feet.

  "Well?"

  "Ill be in touch," I said.

  "How much is it going to cost me?"

  "I dont know. "

  "Ill pay you what I paid him. I wont pay any more than that. "