Chapter 13
Everything seemed to happen on Thursday. I came within a whisker of killing Max Roth. Mary found out about Jerry Bry. I discovered who had been sending those anonymous letters. Mary and I—let me start from the beginning.
* * * * *
When I woke up Thursday, my head felt as if it was going to split in two. For a few moments I didn’t know who or where I was. But for the first time in days, even with the headache, I felt at peace. Slowly, memories started seeping in, though. Before long, I remembered all of it.
I knew I couldn’t continue the way I was going. I couldn’t go on the radio under the weight of all that worry. I called Mary and told her I had good news. We arranged to meet at my office in an hour.
When I got there, Mary was already waiting. She jumped up and fired a dozen questions at me.
I held out my hands. “Whoa. Take a seat and I’ll tell you everything.” We sat down. Or at least I did. Mary’s rear barely touched her chair. “I’m so nervous,” she said. “I want to know everything.”
“I know, Mary.” I smiled, or at least tried to. My head felt like an overripe melon, and a pain shot through it, jerking the smile right off my face.
“You really found my parents?”
I nodded. “Your mother died two months after you were born. That’s what made it so hard to find your records. You weren’t adopted as a newborn baby. Your daddy’s alive, though. Living right here in Denver.”
For a moment I thought she was going to break down, but she got a stiff upper lip and choked back the tears. “I always thought my mother was alive,” she said. “It’s hard to believe she isn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
She swallowed back whatever emotion was fighting its way loose and asked me to tell her about her father.
I told her about Jerry Bry. I told her he had a wife now who didn’t know about this. “He knows you want to contact him, but he’s afraid his wife will divorce him if she finds out about you.” I handed her one of his business cards. “He’d like you to call him at his office.”
She bit her lip. “How did you find him?”
“Well—” I said, and spun her quite a yarn. By the time I finished, I believed it myself. She sat there quietly, soaking it all in. All of a sudden, she reached over and kissed me on the cheek.
She looked at me for a few seconds, frowning slightly. “Johnny, you look terrible. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ve been working hard on this the last few days. Haven’t slept much.”
“Oh.” Concern was deepening her frown. She kissed me again. “Can I see you after I talk with my father?”
“Sure. Anytime.”
As she was leaving, she stopped at the door. “Are you going to be alright?”
“Don’t worry about me, honey. A little sleep and I’ll be as good as new.”
“Well, then—” She ran over to me and gave me a third kiss. This one on the mouth. “’Bye Johnny. Thank you for everything.”
I sat back, feeling better about things, although I still had to worry about Bry lousing things up. I swore to myself I’d break his neck if he did.
* * * * *
Later that morning Debra Singer called. She wanted to let me know that things were getting better with her. She was eating properly, and even claimed she was getting a little chubby. She was having trouble sleeping but thanks to the money I gave her she was seeing a therapist. She hadn’t seen her father and was debating whether or not to file charges against him. I got the idea her mother was making things difficult for her. I told her when my schedule wasn’t so crazy I’d take her to lunch.
I spent the rest of the morning making phone calls and updating some of the outstanding case reports lying on my desk. By the time I headed out for lunch, I was feeling pretty good, and hungry enough to make up for the last few days. I went full out: steak, baked potato, half a basket of garlic bread, a couple of beers, and two pieces of peach cobbler. The despair and distress I’d been feeling had become nothing more than a bad memory. After Mary met with Bry, it would all be over.
At two thirty I left for the radio station. The station was only a ten-minute walk from my office, and on the way a few people stopped me to ask for my autograph. By the time I got to the station the last few days weren’t even a bad memory.
I’d worked with the talk show host, Alan Glick, the last time I’d done a radio show. When he saw me, he waved and signaled for me to wait for the next commercial.
“Johnny Lane,” he exclaimed after taking his headset off. “I’ve got to get you up here more often. A year’s just too long. After this commercial I’ll introduce you. I figure we’ll have you tell stories for the first half hour and then open up the line for calls. Sound good to you?”
“Sure, sounds fine.”
“Great. Commercial’s almost over. Put that headset on and get ready.”
He slipped his own headset back on. “Welcome back to KDCK, Denver’s own talk radio. I have a special treat for you this afternoon. Denver’s own tough guy, private eye Johnny Lane, is here in the studio with me. Glad to have you, Johnny.”
“Glad to be here,” I said. And I meant it. It’s funny how relaxed I always feel when I’m making a radio or television appearance. Never bothers me at all. I guess I was born for the spotlight.
Most of it went as well as I could have hoped for. I told stories I thought I’d forgotten over the years. When we got to taking phone calls, folks were more interested in telling me how much they enjoyed my stories than in asking questions. Near the end, someone asked something so quietly I couldn’t hear.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I don’t think I caught that.”
In a voice that wasn’t much louder but that echoed right through me, a woman asked, “Why don’t you tell us how you blackmail your clients?”
Glick flipped a switch and cut the caller off. “Come on boys and girls,” he admonished, “it’s a little too early in the afternoon to be hitting the hard stuff. They’re out there, Johnny. Let’s hear a word from the big guy paying our bills and then we’ll be right back with more of Johnny Lane.”
He cut off his mike and shook me. “If that vein in your neck pushes out any further, you’re going to have a stroke.”
I mumbled something.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, man,” he said. “It’s just a crank call. This is radio, you know. You okay to take another call?”
When I could, I nodded.
He waited for the commercial to end. “We have time for one more phone call. And this time, please, no nuts. Yes ma’am, you’re on the air.”
“Since you wouldn’t answer my last question,” the same voice quietly ripped into me, “would you mind telling us how you killed Walter Murphy?”
“That’s it,” Glick interrupted. “Sorry about that Johnny, but they’re out there, alright. We’ll be back after the news with more talk, but if you’re a nut please save your dime.”
He cut his mike off again and gave me a tap on the shoulder. “Great show, Johnny. And it’s great to see you got your sense of humor back. You can’t let those nuts out there upset you.”
I was smiling, but he misunderstood the reason behind it. During the second call I recognized the woman’s voice. And there wasn’t a chance in hell I could’ve kept that smile off my face.
Chapter 14
I waited until dark before looking for Max Roth. From what I’d heard Max had gotten into the habit of spending his nights drinking his money away. I started out searching the bars on Denver’s south end and after two hours I found Max’s car parked alongside a little hole in the wall bar. I walked around the outside, checking out the layout. The parking lot was behind the building and away from traffic. For the hell of it, I measured the distance from the side door to the front of the building.
I was disappointed there was a full moon, but it would probably still be dark enough for what I was planning. I went through it forwards and backwards. I even play-acted it ou
t and couldn’t see any problems. Apart from the full moon, the setup was as good as I could have hoped for.
I headed back to the bar’s entrance and stopped in the shadows of its doorway. I looked in and saw Max hunched over the bar with his back to me. I made my way to a table in the rear, making sure he didn’t see me. By now the booze and self-pity would be working on him, dulling his senses and leaving him with nothing but contempt.
I asked the gal working the tables to bring me a beer. I didn’t have to worry about Max spotting me. He wasn’t about to notice anything except the booze and all the crap he’d convinced himself life was dumping on him. He wasn’t going to see me until I wanted him to and by then it would be too late.
He kept me waiting quite a bit, taking extra care to treat each drink with kindness. Being gentler with the alcohol than he ever was with his own wife or kids. Almost two hours later, Max had his wallet out and was looking at it with dejected bewilderment. That meant it was empty and he couldn’t face up to the fact that the booze was going to be cut off.
He tried kidding the barkeep for one last drink but the barkeep turned a deaf ear. Max stood there, uncomprehending, before resigning himself to the cruelty of the situation, and, shoulders slouched, turned towards the door.
I headed for the men’s room. On the way I made a sharp turn out the side door. I took a deep breath and waited, holding myself close to the outside of the building. As Max walked past me, I moved out and pushed my foot hard against the back of his leg, hitting the area just below the knee. He sort of crumpled backwards, and I dug my forearm into his neck and threw myself forward, letting gravity do the rest. We ended up falling into a heap, me crisscrossed on top of him and his head wedged between the dirt ground and my elbow.
Spitting out dirt, he mumbled, “You picked the wrong guy. I’m flat broke.”
I forced one of his eyes open with my thumb and waited until it focused. “It’s me, Max,” I said. “I’ve been wanting to have a talk with you.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, a little too dazed to realize what was happening. When he finally recognized me he demanded to know what the hell I was doing. Then he ordered me to get off him.
“Not until I kick your teeth in.”
“What for? What did I ever do to you?”
“Why don’t you talk to your wife about it? I was on the radio this afternoon and she tried to make trouble for me. Talked a whole lot of garbage about me blackmailing my clients.”
“Well, it’s true!”
I put more pressure to his head with my forearm and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I have to disagree with you on that. I think she should keep her ugly mouth shut.”
“Why are you telling me? Talk to her yourself. For all the good it’ll do you. She’s pissed at the way you’ve been treating me.”
“Get it through your thick skull that ff she hurts me she’s going to hurt you just as bad. Or worse. You’ll be the first one to get cut off.”
“You’ve already done that. I spoke to Tommy and Jim. I know what’s going on.”
I started laughing. It was all I could do looking down at his big ugly face, all puckered up on the verge of bawling. Filled with self-righteousness and goddamned hopelessness.
He demanded to know what I was laughing at.
“You,” I said. “And that big cement block you call a head. Look, why don’t we have us a talk? Let me buy you a drink.”
I helped him up and brushed him off. For a second he looked as if he was going to take a swing at me. I gave him my handkerchief to clean up his face.
We turned back into the bar. The barkeep raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. Hell, Max did look a mess, blood and dirt smudged across his face. I bought a round of drinks and we drank them silently.
After a while we were both fidgeting in our chairs. I started things off. “I want to be fair to you,” I said. “But you have to be fair in return. I never wanted a partner. I like running my own operation.”
“You owe me,” Max said, talking more into his shot glass than to me.
“Well, let’s say I do, and I have to tell you I’m not entirely convinced of that. What do you suggest?”
His face convulsed as if he had swallowed something that needed to be spat out. “Just make me your goddamn partner,” he said.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. I was only playing for time. When we were out there in the dirt an idea had snuck up on me. I needed to give it a few minutes to gel. And it was forming nicely.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “There’s got to be something else we could do.”
“Why? You promised me.”
“Come on, that’s not getting us anywhere.”
“At least give me some of your clients. You owe me that much.”
“I don’t know if that would be such a good idea. People don’t like to be told where to go—but you know what we could do?
“How about this,” I continued, acting as if I had a genuine revelation. “We could work it so we were more like partners. I’ll give you a fifty-fifty split on all work you do for me.
“You know what else we could do?” I added, drawing it out. “I can have you deal directly with the clients. If they’re satisfied with your work, I’ll recommend they contact you for future jobs. And when you get enough clients on your own, we can call it quits.”
Max was rolling his shot glass around in his palms. He kept his eyes on the table but I swear tears were popping up around them. “I only wanted what’s fair. Thanks, Johnny. I’m sorry about everything that happened.”
He wiped his shirtsleeve across his face, and started apologizing and thanking me like there was no tomorrow. He was overreacting to the situation. Fifty percent of nothing is still nothing, and that was all I was going to give him. I’d throw him a few scraps here and there but nothing he could live on. Just enough to keep him guessing whether or not I was on the level. He’d probably suspect pretty soon what was really going on, but he wouldn’t know for sure. And that would be the hell of it, because if I was on the level then the scraps would keep him going until the steak came, but if I wasn’t, then I would just be slowly starving him. By the time he figured it out it would be too late. Him and Moira would be too tired and hungry to want to cause me any more trouble.
I would have liked to have given Max another chance. Deep down I believed that. But him and his wife were too much of a nuisance to keep around. I couldn’t afford to give Moira another opportunity to get pissed at me. For all I knew, next time she’d end up taking out a full-page ad to air her grievances.
I bought another round. “Max,” I said. “One thing. Could you talk to Moira? Straighten her out as to how things stand?”
“It’s as good as done, Johnny.”
From the look he gave me I could tell he was planning on doing more than just talking to her. If I was lucky, in the drunken state he was in, he’d end up breaking her neck.
I gave him a slap on the back, said, “I have had a hell of a day and I’m going to call it quits. Stop by the office at nine tomorrow and I’ll set you up with an assignment.”
Max nodded and told me I wouldn’t be disappointed in him. I didn’t think there was a chance of that either.
Chapter 15
I saw what I thought was a large dog lying on my front doorstep. My night vision’s pretty poor, always has been, and as I got closer I realized it was a person. A few yards from my door I realized it was Mary.
Her eyes were red and swollen but no more so than the rest of her face.
“Mary,” I said, feeling a sickness start up in my stomach, “what’s wrong?”
She looked beyond miserable. “Oh, Johnny—” she cried, as she got up and buried her face into my chest.
I took her inside and cleaned her face up. The crying eventually subsided. I made her some coffee, pouring a good shot of whiskey into it, and made her take a few sips.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.
She nodded, and bit hard on her lip. “I went to see him tonight, and h-he—” she gasped. Then she got her control back and, with her eyes dulling a bit, said, “He tried to rape me.”
I looked at her incredulously. I knew it was a stupid question—it just kind of slipped from me, but I asked her what she meant.
She shook her head, confirming what she told me. “I called him this afternoon,” she said, “and we made plans to meet at his home tonight. His wife had gone to see friends so we were alone. He started hugging me, and then he asked how much I loved him. And then—”
“You don’t have to tell me any more.”
“No, I want to tell you.” She’d distanced herself from the event and was talking about it more matter-of-factly, as if it had happened to someone else.
“He put his hands on my breasts. When I pulled away from him he asked what was wrong with me, didn’t I want to show my father how much I loved him? He threw me to the floor and when he was trying to take my pants off I kneed him. Then I ran away and came here.”
“Oh, Mary.” I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted to break Bry apart. I wanted to turn him into the same queasy mush my stomach had become. I held my breath and let it out slowly. At least I could be thankful this whole business with Mary was coming to a close.
“All I wanted was to see who my real father was.”
“I know, honey.”
“I guess you were right.” She smiled sadly at me. “Finding my father didn’t do me any good. What next?”
“You’ll just have to forget it. You do have parents that love you.”
“I know, I know. Boy, look at me. Have you ever seen such a mess?” She let out a brittle laugh. “I was supposed to work tonight, but I don’t think I’m up to it.”
“Do you want me to take you home?”
“I don’t think I’m up to that either. Do you think I could stay here tonight?”
“Sure. I’ll make up the guest room for you.”
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