“Okay, man. Take it easy, it’s no big deal. I spoke to him today; we speak once in a while. I still keep my eyes open for the lads when they ask. That’s how I got all this, after all.” He swept his arm around him, generally indicating the bar.
I was getting tired of waiting, and beginning to wonder if he’d gotten through before I came in. Also, if there’s one thing I hate, it’s being told to ‘take it easy’. I decided to push a little. I took a half step closer to him.
“Now we’re down to three more seconds, Bob.”
“Whoa, there buddy. He said, and I quote, ‘If you see Jeffry Claxton, call me and let me know’, unquote. Then he showed me a picture, said it was recent. I told him I knew who you were, and I didn’t need a photograph to jog my memory.”
“Did you ask why he wanted to know?”
“Did I want to get threatened? End up in the alley behind my own bar? No.”
“What was the picture like that he showed you?”
“It was you, and some business broad, from the cut of her suit. You were getting on a train down at the Bahnhof.”
“Just the two of us?”
“Yeah, that’s what it looked like.”
“What colour was her hair?”
Bob looked at me kind of funny, like he didn’t get it. “Uh, blonde, I think. You can see for yourself.”
He pulled a perfectly clear 35mm colour photo shot in 3x5 inch format out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. It was Godsen and I, getting on the train this morning. Ahead of us in the line were Evie, seen from the side, and Therese, with her face turned away from the camera, mounting the steps of the train. If Mark was willing to let me be monitored, and was willing to let me use his ultra-top-secret-decoder-ring-required hideaway—no. It didn’t wash. I was thinking I’d like to see Terry Kincaid. It had been a long time. I hadn’t liked him then, and I didn’t like him now. He had to be going behind Mark’s back.
“Did you get through just now, yes or no?”
“Well, I was holding while they paged him, but I had to identify myself before I could get the reception to forward my call.”
“Has Terry been compensating you for these occasional favours?” The look of instant fight-or-flight came and went almost before I saw it, but I did. “He’s not, is he? He’s got something on you and that’s the stick, and you’re telling me he doesn’t even offer a carrot. Is what he has on you enough to get you put behind bars here in Zurich?”
“No, but it would be the end of my Pub. It’s the same thing to me.”
“Do you deserve being let off the hook?”
The look on his face told it all. He believed that his license was in Terry Kincaid’s hands, and he didn’t think it was justified.
“Yeah, man. I do.”
“Fine.” I slowly reached up and took back the money he’d slipped into his shirt pocket. He stood as still as a statue. “I’m going to do you a favour Bob. A big one. When Terry calls back, and he will, probably within the next five minutes, tell him you’ve got me in here, with the blonde. We’re both drinking G&T’s, on the house, naturally, and sitting in the back booth that faces the pool table. He won’t be able to tell if we’re sitting there unless he comes right into the back.
When I’m done with him, you won’t have anything to worry about from Terry Kincaid anymore. Do you understand what I’ve just said to you? Yes or no.”
“Yes, Jeffry, I surely do.” He seemed to be perking up substantially, more like the Big Bob we all used to know and love. Back then he’d run this place as the manager, and the joint was owned by the Brits, but we all came here. Neutral territory. Bob passed on what he picked up to everyone who would pay. Sometimes it was info that he knew was needed, and he’d tell us first, then if there was something in it for him, all the better.
Deep down though, I think he had a heart. And a conscience. Finally, he got enough cash together, and had garnered enough favour with the Brits, that they let him buy the place out. At a pretty good price too, as I recall from the grapevine of the day.
“I’ll be here for you, don’t worry. Clear out the back booth for me while I make a call of my own. In a few minutes when Terry calls back, let him know that we’ve already been hitting the night spots, and our mood is definitely looking romantic as well as slightly sozzled.”
“Got it.” He hesitated for a second, then added, “Jeffry, thanks for trusting me about what Terry has on me. It was something he made me do. It wasn’t my thing, and I’ve had a lot of anguish and sleepless nights over it since then.”
I put out my hand to stop him from hurrying away to do my bidding.
“Tell me what it was, and how long ago it took place.”
“Alright. I’ve never told anyone before, and I feel a sense of shame about it. You may change your mind when you hear it.” It was like he was warning me that it was bad. “Terry comes in one day and says to me, ‘This man is on my list, I want to know the next time he shows up here. I have information that he comes to the Niederdorf on occasional weekends.’ Then he pulls out a picture like the one he gave me today. I recognized the guy right away. Every weekend was more like it. He was a suit. You know, three piece, pocket watch, the whole number. He liked to meet foreign girls, like, not Swiss, right? But young. Too young for him, catch my drift?
Anyway, he always managed to score at some point over the weekend. There must have been some truth to the lines he used for the girls. He’d show up here at about noon on Friday’s, book one of the few rooms I still keep for special guests, and then he’d check out on Monday mornings, at about 7:00 AM. If he hadn’t been such a good customer, the first time he woke me up at seven I would have barred him for life.” Bob shook his head just thinking about it.
Now, I could take Bob in my sleep—if I was handcuffed, even—but I wouldn’t like to try it at that moment when he switched from sleep to wakening. He tended to be a bit grumpy when he woke up. Sort of like a big bear that just had his nose stung by a honey bee.
I interrupted his reverie.
“What kind of lines did he use, Bob?”
“Money lines. He was a big tipper, and it was always champagne, the best, you know? He said he was in international banking. This is Switzerland, right? So anyway, the lines worked. He had them stay over the weekend with him sometimes.”
He carried on with his story. “Anyway, I let Terry think I was on the lookout for him, but I remember clearly that when he asked me to let him know if the guy showed, one call would be worth five G’s. Dollars, with presidents on them, you know? That was hard to turn down. I thought that he was going to grill him on some banking thing, or tail him, or do some business with him, whatever.
So, comes Friday, my guy shows. Right on time. I drop a dime, and Terry knows he’s here. The last time I saw him, he was with a completely different kind of babe than usual. Older, right? Not like, old, but maybe thirty or so. But beautiful, right? Memorable, for sure.
The next day the guy doesn’t show. He didn’t come down to go out for breakfast. I figure, Okay, he’s having a swell time upstairs, and I don’t think anything of it, right? If I’d been him, I would have stayed in bed for a week with that woman. Then I don’t see him for lunch. He always had lunch right here, said he loved the pub food for lunch. So I start to wonder, where is he? I go upstairs and knock, you know? Just checking. Nothing. All of his weekend stuff was there, but no sign of him. The bed hadn’t been slept in, so I figure, Okay, she took him back to her place maybe. So I let it go and get on with my day.
Then the Herald-Tribune comes, right? You know, the International edition. I get it delivered at about noon, read it with my lunch.
Page two, there it is. ‘Prominent Banker’ shot and robbed while trying to do a good deed. He stops to help out a fellow motorist. Near Geneva. I knew that guy, and I can tell you that he might have called a tow truck for the guy, but he wouldn’t even have slowed down. More to the point, he should have been here, at least somewhere in Zurich. The babe he sn
agged that Friday night was more than a looker, she was… perfect. Like the best thing that could have happened to him, you know?” He sort of hung his head a bit, going for the sympathy vote.
“That’s when I realized what I’d done. I’d helped Terry set the guy up. I’ve never done that kind of work Jeffry, you know I haven’t. Then Terry shows up while I’m reading the article, and he takes the paper from me, and says, ‘The cash is already deposited in your account. You did a good job, so I doubled it to ten. Since that’s the last time I’ll have to pay you for anything, I don’t mind.’, then he smiles and leaves the bar. With the paper.” The look on Bob’s face told me the truth. He’d been had. But Terry was like that, and a bully to boot. I didn’t like Terry then, and I saw no reason to change my feelings now.
“Bob, do you still have the picture?”
“No. Terry took it back after he showed it to me.”
“Could you recognize the guy if I showed you a set of shots?”
“In my sleep.”
“When he registered for his room each weekend, did he use his real name?”
“Yeah, I think so. He had all the I.D. you’d want. I saw his driver’s license, like that.”
“Can you dig out the name for me when you get a minute?”
“Sure, Jeffry. Whatever you want.”
“What about the girl that night?”
He thought about that for a moment or two. He seemed to be debating himself internally on the point. Probably in Latin. Then he made up his mind.
“Yeah, I think I could recognize her. She was… I don’t know, man. If I could have met a woman like that I might have ended up married. She was remarkable, just… above the rest, you know?”
I knew all too well how that particular ploy worked.
“Good. We’ll deal with that later. Let’s move.” At that second, the phone rang. “Could be Terry. Got the story?”
“Right.”
Bob answered the phone before it could ring a second time.
“Bob here… yeah, Terry. Good thing I got you so quick man.” There was a short pause, then he said, “Yeah, exactly like you said.” Bob glanced at me sideways while I gave him a thumb up and then I left the kitchen and gave Big Bob some space to do his thing.
When I made my way back to the bar the girls weren’t still standing there. They’d probably gotten a seat at one of the tables or booths. That suited me fine. I made my way through the swiftly growing mob of pubsters to the front door, and stepped outside. The air was fresh and revitalizing after the smoky atmosphere of the bar. I pulled out my cell phone and called Godsen. She picked up on the first ring.
“Jeffry here. I think you should come over and join me here, we’ve got something going. Leave Evie at the club to cover Therese. The hounds are loose on the moors tonight, so tell her to keep a sharp eye out. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
I gave her directions to the bar and then asked her to get a doggie bag for my dinner, and bring it along. I had been looking forward to it, and I was damned if Terry Kincaid was going to keep me from my blackened ribs and ‘slaw. “When you get here, come to the booth in the back, by the pool table. You can’t miss it.” We rang off and I lit a Camel.
I was thinking about a man who had owned part of a bank in the Bahamas, but had unfortunately been gunned down while helping out a stranded motorist.
I looked up at the sky and saw all the stars shining down on me and a planet full of intrigue, from so far away and so long ago. All of that light had been born inside of coalescing clouds of interstellar gas, and dust and debris, forming ever tightening areas of matter larger than our whole solar system, until finally, the pressure of it all was drawn down into a ball so tight and heavy that the thermonuclear potential lit itself up. Then you had a star, and the light shone off into the universe, at eight hundred thousand plus miles per second. So I could look up at the night sky at times like this and be reminded of just how precious our little ball of sand, and rock, and water is. And how insignificant we are compared to all of that infinity. Tonight you’d think I was the one with the degree in philosophy, not Big Bob.
I gave myself a few more puffs before throwing it into the street. Probably a major crime in this town. In this whole country, come to think of it.
Bob probably had the booth cleared by now, and Godsen would show any minute, so I went back inside where I couldn’t see the stars anymore.
~
Chapter Twenty-Four
W
alking back into the pub, I saw Bob behind the bar, nodding his head in that little sideways movement that people do when they want you to come over, but don’t want anyone else to notice that you’ve just said ‘Hey, over here!’. Of course, anyone watching at the critical moment understands the message as well as the next person. The best way to be secretive is to be open and normal. Or meet in the bush somewhere.
I made my way over to where he was sitting. He always sat down at the end of the bar, near the cash register. If it was my place, I probably would too. The place had filled up considerably since my first arrival, and I took care not to bump into anybody the wrong way, being loaded down with weaponry and all. As I got there, Bob got up and went into the kitchen, and I followed. We stopped just inside the doors near the telephone again. One of the few spots where the current slowed to an eddy in the fast flow of night-time revelry.
“What’s up Bob?”
“When I spoke to Terry, he was on a car phone, you know? I could hear the static and dropouts. He sounded pretty pissed, man. I mean, mad like, you know? He said he’d be here in fifteen minutes, and that I’d better still have you here when he got here, or else.” Bob was actually looking nervous, sweating and glancing around as he talked. “You’re not going to leave me hanging on this are you Jeffry? Terry scares me, man. That guy gets more nuts every year.”
“Bob, Terry Kincaid is over fifty years old. You could toss him about twenty feet if you got a good spin going. What’s the deal here? Do you think he’d actually kill you if I had left when he got here, or what?”
“It’s not Terry so much that scares me Jeffry. Well, it is, but mostly it’s the guys he has working with him. Or the guys he works with, whichever. He knows he’s over fifty. But the guys who do the work for him aren’t. I don’t know if he’s coming alone, or if he’s bringing a couple of those pit bulls with him.”
“Are you saying he has people working for him that aren’t Mark’s people?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Do these ‘guys’ all dress in suits that look the same, have olive complexions, black hair, never say anything?”
“Yeah! You know about them?”
“I think I might have met a couple of them this morning.”
Bob got a puzzled look on his face, then it hit him. “This morning? Dietikon! That was you?” By now he was getting himself all worked up, and his whisper was louder than a casual conversational voice.
“Bob?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop talking. Take a deep breath, and exhale slowly. Calm down. Nice and easy. Everything is normal and right with your world, Okay? Just do what I told you to. Terry will not be a threat to you from tonight on. But,” I looked him in the eye. “if you don’t get it together, he’ll know something’s wrong. He may not be a very nice person, but he’s not stupid. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Uh, yeah. Right, Okay. Everything’s normal, right?”
“You’re not having any second thoughts about this are you Bob?”
“No! No, man. I just don’t want anything to go bad tonight. With me or you.”
“Okay, fine. Just point him in my direction when he gets here, and I’ll take care of the rest. Including Terry Kincaid. I promise you that. All right now?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m Okay. I’m good. Thanks man.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a white handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket. My grandfather used to do that on those hot summer day
s out on the farm, when the breeze had moved on to the next county, and the tree frogs were singing their little hearts out. The Heat Opera he used to call it. Then it would be so still you could hear a horsefly coming from twenty paces. Memories.
“Fine. Now I’m going to sit down in my booth, and you just have to point when he gets here. That’s it. Now let’s get out of the kitchen, I’m so hungry your pub food is starting to smell good. Send over… five glasses of tonic water on the rocks, one with a double gin in it, and four with just the tonic water.” I patted him on the arm to show that I was on his side, and then I left the kitchen for the relative comfort of the booth in the back.
The drinks were at the table almost before I was. I drank two of the tonics, and arranged the glasses so that there was one empty and one full on the opposite side of the table. On my side I had one empty and two full glasses. One I was drinking, and the one with the gin was sitting next to me on the left. On the right was the wall.
There were no windows in this end of the pub, just a pool table, juke box, a small dance floor, and a booth on either side. It was a concession to the American clientele. It looked ‘pubbish’, but was geared for Yanks. When it started getting late, Bob closed off this section first. There was one of those velvet rope affairs, with the sign on the main post that folded open. Which was sort of funny because when you opened up the sign, it read ‘CLOSED’.
About two minutes later Godsen arrived. With my dinner. I stood and made like a gentleman while she sat down. The doggie bag was big. It turned out she’d brought hers as well. We ate fast, but it was damn good nonetheless. When Terry showed up about twenty minutes later, Godsen was up to speed, and the remains of our meal had been taken away. He had to come all the way to the back of the bar to get to our booth, and as he turned the corner to see if I was there, I stood and gripped his hand in mine, like a handshake, but more of a ‘can’t get away now, pal’ hold.
The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel Page 52