Bum Rap

by Paul Levine

With Victoria riding shotgun, we took I-95 to the end where it dumped us onto South Dixie Highway. Also called US 1. Or Useless 1, if you prefer. Turned left at LeJeune, rounded the circle where Granny did her fishing in the Gables Waterway, and continued south along Old Cutler Road under its canopy of Japanese banyans.

  The rain had stopped, and by the time we hung a left on Arvida Parkway, the sun was blazing, steam rising from the pavement. It’s an everyday occurrence in Miami and possibly in hell, if that’s not redundant.

  The rent-a-cop in the guardhouse waved us through. We took a left onto Leucadendra and found Benny Cohen’s place on 450 feet of waterfront. You could have docked a cruise ship behind the house.

  The place was your typical two-story Miami mansion. Orange barrel-tile roof. Towering royal palms framing a circular tile driveway that could handle parking for a hundred of your closest friends. Pillars out front to either hold up the second floor or just make the place look more stately than it was.

  Also out front were two large men in dark suits on this scorching-hot day. They stood in the shade of a portico, waiting for us to get out of the Eldo.

  “Let’s do this,” I said to Victoria.

  “What’s our game plan?”

  “Not sure I have one. Just play it by ear.”

  “I knew it!” She leveled me with that Victoria Lord glare. “I just knew it.”

  “Sorry I don’t have all my questions typed on color-coded cards.”

  “Men!” she said, opening the car door and stepping out.

  Apparently, Solomon and I had similar failings, I figured.

  Once we were on the portico, the two men frisked us for weapons, then used a magic wand to check for wires. One of them ushered us into a two-story foyer. Spiral staircases peeled off from either side to the second floor.

  “Mr. C is on the patio.” The Dark Suit led us through a room the size of a football field toward a set of French doors. The floor tiles were beige. The walls were a muted neutral color in the same family. The crystal chandeliers were large but without all the doodads you often see in these houses. Despite its size, the house tended toward the understated. You might even call it boring.

  The French doors had a splendid view of the infinity pool, a tanning ledge, and the wide expanse of waterway that led to the Bay. The Dark Suit politely held the door, and we exited the house onto a covered patio with ceiling fans and a long granite table.

  “I’m Benjamin Cohen.” The little man got up from the table, bowed toward Victoria, and extended a soft, pudgy hand for me to shake. “People call me Benny the Jeweler.”

  “Jake Lassiter,” I said. “And this is Victoria Lord.”

  He smiled as if we were old friends overdue for a visit. He wore a cream-colored silk guayabera with buttons that looked like gray pearls. His dressy slacks had a houndstooth pattern, black with that same cream color as his shirt. His shoes were loafers in a soft black leather with those silver buckles that resemble a horse’s bit. I’d guess Ferragamo or Gucci. If he stood on his tippy-toes, he might be about five feet five.

  He looked to be somewhere between fifty and eighty. It was impossible to tell. Smooth, tight skin. Not a wrinkle on the forehead and the eyes with just a bit more slant than you might expect. He’d had some work done. Lots of work.

  “May I offer you anything?” A lot of New York in his voice. “Lemonade. Something stronger? A little bite to nosh on?”

  We both declined.

  “So. How do you like my house?”

  “To tell you the truth, the colors are a little bland,” I said.

  “Jake! That’s impolite,” Victoria admonished me.

  “Better resale value,” Benny explained.

  “Me, I like to live in the present,” I said.

  “Understandable. Who knows when tragedy will befall any of us?”

  Maybe it was a threat. Maybe just chitchat.

  “Do you know how I got into my business, Mr. Lassiter?”

  I shook my head.

  “Started as a diamond polisher in New York. For old man Slutsk. An orthodox Jew, of course. Do you know why the Jews got into the diamond business?”

  I said I did not.

  “Let’s say you were a Jew in Lisbon in the fifteenth century. You could be in the cattle business or the diamond business. But if there came a time when Portugal decided to expel the Jews, as they did in 1497, it’s a helluva lot easier to travel with diamonds than with cows.”

  “Makes sense,” I agreed.

  “Those were the same Jews that Spain expelled in 1492,” Victoria added. “Just when they thought they had sanctuary, boom, it happened again in Portugal.”

  “Smart maidel you got there, Mr. Lassiter.”

  “Princeton and Yale,” I told him.

  “Anyway, from old man Slutsk I learned everything about diamonds and how to treat people.”

  “So he was a good boss,” I said.

  “Diamonds, he knew. But good boss, my tuches! He was the worst momzer in midtown. He read Talmud all morning and screamed at his workers the rest of the day. I learned to do everything the opposite. I treat my workers like family. Pay them well. Send doctors when their kids get sick, presents when they get married. I could never tolerate a person who mistreated his underlings.”

  “That’s a good trait,” Victoria said.

  “Take Nicolai Gorev, for example. Greedy and stupid. I told him not to charge so much, he’d get in trouble with the credit card companies. Plus he cheated the girls, withheld their wages, forced them to have sex. I shed no tears for him.” He turned toward me. “So, Mr. Lassiter, what is it you want?”

  “Top of my list. Evidence my client is innocent.”

  “No, no, no. That’s what Solomon wants. But you, boychik! In life, I mean.”

  “You want to chat about life?”

  “These days, I don’t get a lot of visitors. And the ones who come are either Russian goons or beautiful young women who cannot carry on a conversation.” He gave a sly little smile. “With the exception of one shayna maidel named Nadia, but we’ll talk about her in a moment.”

  I’d dated a couple of Jewish women, along with virtually every other ethnic group, including Seminole Indian, so I knew he’d just said “pretty girl” in Yiddish.

  “Okay,” I said. “I just want to be happy. Like everyone else.”

  “And what will make you happy? Money?”

  I shook my head. “Money’s never been the goal.”

  “Prestige then? Chamber of Commerce Man of the Year. Honors in the community.”

  “I don’t give a crap about that stuff.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. Since we’ve ruled out those things, what brings you happiness?”

  “Mr. Cohen . . .”

  “Benny.”

  “Benny, I don’t really think much about it. I just go about my life day to day. Stuff happens. Some good. Some bad. I don’t know what’s at the end of the rainbow, or even if there is a rainbow.”

  He smiled, but a bit sadly. “An honest self-appraisal from a decent man. Now, may I tell you what would bring you happiness?”

  “I’m not sure you can. You can speak for yourself, but you don’t know me.”

  “Feh! We’re just alike.”

  “You and me? Doubt it.”

  “You! Me! Ms. Lord! Mr. Solomon! Even Nadia Delova. All of us, good people. We want the same thing. Love!”

  He sang it then, with a nasal twang, not sounding a bit like the Beatles. “All you need is love, love. Love is all you need.”

  “Benny, I know you’re trying to tell me something, but subtlety sometimes eludes me. Why not just hit the nail on the head?”

  Victoria stepped in. “What he’s saying, Jake, is that he’s in love with Nadia.”

  “She’s got an ass like a ripe fig,” Cohen said.

  “How sweet.” Victoria turned to me. “Mr. Cohen is also saying he would never hurt Nadia.”

  “Bingo!” Benny said. “A yiddishe kop you�
��ve got, Ms. Lord. A Jewish brain.”

  “I’m Episcopalian,” she said. “So you would like Nadia to come back to you?”

  “Such a smart question. What you are really asking in a gentle way is whether I know Nadia has found a young man. Of course I know. And despite my feelings for her, I understand. Why would she want an alter kocker like me, anyway? I wish her the best. You see, Ms. Lord, that is true love. The same feeling that Mr. Lassiter has for you.”

  “We’re not lovers,” Victoria fired back, a bit quicker than necessary.

  Benny waved his hand. “Not yet! But I watched on the security monitor as you two sat in the car. I saw your body language, how close your heads were when you spoke to each other. Then I saw a little spat, as lovers do. I know about your nighttime travels. The Russian church. The beach. The meals you’ve shared. Your common purpose.”

  “Our common purpose is to keep Steve Solomon out of prison,” she said. “Steve is my lover.”

  “For now, yes. When he is in prison, what then?”

  “It’s my job to keep him out of prison,” I broke in.

  “Then you would have to be both a magician and a mensch. A magician to accomplish the task, a mensch for wanting to.”

  “Benny, I was hoping you could help us.”

  “I doubt it, but tell me what you know, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “The feds want you for smuggling stolen diamonds, but they need someone to draw them a road map. An eyewitness who can place the diamonds in your hands. They thought Nicolai Gorev was their guy. They’d charge him, and he’d flip on you. But now that he’s dead, maybe Nadia can do it, if she knows enough.”

  “That sweet child will never tell the government a thing.”

  His statement gobsmacked me. I had expected him to say that Nadia doesn’t know anything. But instead he said she wouldn’t talk, inadvertently conceding that she could nail him. But so far, she hadn’t. I remembered Deborah Scolino telling me that she didn’t trust Nadia’s denials when it came to Benny’s business:

  “Nadia said a lot of things about Nicolai Gorev that were surely true. But when it came to Benny the Jeweler, she was evasive.”

  Now I wondered just how deep was Benny’s professed love for the Russian Bar girl? Was he really comfortable with her on the loose? I needed to poke around a bit to find out.

  “I would be remiss if I didn’t ask you a question, Benny,” I said. “How do the diamonds get to Miami?”

  He coughed up a laugh, delighted that anyone could ask such a foolish question. “What is the expression I’m looking for?”

  “Maybe it’s ‘Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies,’ ” I ventured.

  “No, another one. From the movies. ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’ Yes, that’s it!” Another chuckle. “What else do you have for me?”

  “I know you gave Nadia the gun that killed Nicolai Gorev, and that could be a problem for you.”

  Benny thought a moment before replying. “If you know that, it means the federal stooges told you. Which also means they want something from you. Oh, Mr. Lassiter, I hope you don’t let your client do anything stupid. Or perjurious.”

  Benny the Jeweler was no fool. He’d figured out the government’s play.

  “I’m trying, Benny. But I need a reasonable chance to win his trial.”

  “The damned Glock.” He made a tsk-tsk-tsk-ing sound. “My mistake, entirely. Personally, I hate guns. I gave it to Nadia because she felt she needed it for protection.”

  “So you didn’t hire Nadia to kill Gorev?”

  “Of course not. He was a useful idiot. But I was foolish to give her the gun, which I suppose she gave to Solomon, who used it to kill Gorev. Or maybe she killed him. Who knows? I wasn’t there.”

  “Why would she do that? And why would Solomon?”

  “Nadia was in an impossible position. The federal government forced her to wear a wire to get immunity.”

  “She told you this?”

  “Until the shooting, she told me everything. Every time she walked into the US Attorney’s office, she would call me afterward. Loyalty. Add that to love, Mr. Lassiter. That’s what we all need. Love and loyalty.”

  “So she told you she was going to have a meeting with Gorev.”

  “I wish she had. If she’d told me about her passport, I’d have ordered Gorev to give it to her. Same for the back pay.”

  “She had to know you would do that for her,” I said. “Meaning she didn’t go for the passport at all. Or to get Gorev on tape for the feds. She went there to kill him.”

  “It’s possible,” he agreed. “She could have thought that with Gorev gone, I would no longer be at risk, and she wouldn’t have to testify. Run away, yes. But testify, no.”

  “So your theory is she did it for you,” I said.

  “I was kind to Nadia. Generous. She was not used to men treating her well. So, yes, boychik, I think she might have killed Gorev so he couldn’t incriminate me.”

  “You’ve been looking for Nadia,” Victoria said. “Why?”

  “Obviously not to harm her.”

  “It’s not obvious to me,” I said. “She could still come back and rat you out to save her own hide.”

  “I want to pay her, not kill her.”

  “Hush money?”

  “Going away money. For her and her young man.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you know where she is?”

  I said yes just as Victoria said no.

  Benny laughed, the sound of a small dog yipping. “Now you sound more like a married couple than ever.”

  “So who’s telling the truth, Benny?” I asked. “Victoria or me?”

  “Ms. Lord, of course. If you knew where Nadia was, you’d be there, not on my pool deck. Mr. Lassiter, you meshugenah shyster. You lied to extract more information; then you would have thrown me a bum steer. ‘She’s in San Diego.’ Or whatever popped into your head.”

  The old bastard was still sharp, I thought. Best to remember that.

  “If you find her, tell her I will give her half a million dollars,” Benny said. “No strings attached. She can go to Rio with her man or wherever they want. I don’t care. Just not back here where the feds could grab her. And for you two, a hundred thousand for your honeymoon.”

  Victoria started to say something. Undoubtedly, a strong denial of any nuptials. I stifled her with a wave of my hand. “Thank you, Benny. We’ll let you know.”

  “Tell her one more thing,” Benny said. “That I think of her every night as I fall asleep. With fondness in my heart.”

  -40-

  Whore’s Rules

  Victoria was troubled. There was something about Benny Cohen that raised the hair on the back of her neck. His faux gentlemanly pose. His philosophy of love and loyalty. His personal story with Nadia.

  “Are you buying all that lovey-dovey talk?” she asked Lassiter on the ride to his office.

  “Obviously you are not.”

  “I don’t take at face value the sweet words of old lechers who give diamonds to B-girls in return for sex, then claim to have fallen in love.”

  “So you’re prejudiced against old lechers?”

  “Plus the guy is a diamond smuggler.”

  “That seems more relevant to me on credibility, but call that a guy reaction.”

  Victoria stared out the windshield. The sky had turned gunmetal gray once more, but no new thunderstorms. Yet.

  Without warning or preamble, Lassiter said, “Why does everybody think we’re a couple?”

  Victoria kept her eyes straight ahead. “They don’t. They think you think we’re a couple.”

  “Not the way I’m hearing it.”

  “That was part of Benny’s act. To distract us. He’s a clever old fox.”

  “I don’t know, Victoria. Maybe he sensed something between us.”

  Not this again, she thought. “Do I have to call another Code Yellow?”

  “I’m not putt
ing the moves on you. I’m just asking. It may help in my future relationships.”

  “That’s different.” Victoria thought he sounded sincere and deserved a serious reply. “If you want relationship advice, I can help you. First, you might try dating an appropriate unattached woman.”

  “You mean no more fleeing felons?”

  “I’m being serious, Jake.”

  “As for dating, I thought guys and girls just hung out these days playing video games and getting tattoos.”

  “Not guys your age.”

  “Ouch! Message received.”

  “I’m glad. Some men, you swing a hammer at them, they think you’re into home improvement.”

  “But as for that Code Yellow, last time we talked, you’d hoisted the flag for Code Green.”

  “Damn it, Jake!” She couldn’t believe he’d gone there. They had both avoided any mention of that embarrassing night. “I gave you major points for being a true gentleman—”

  “A real mensch, you mean.”

  “But now when you bring it up—”

  “By ‘it,’ you mean your shameless come-on?”

  “You lose all your points along with your mensch-i-ness.”

  That shut him up for a while. They picked up I-95 and headed for the I-395 flyover to the MacArthur. If traffic was light on the Causeway, they’d be in Lassiter’s law office in fifteen minutes.

  “Back to your question about Benny’s bona fides . . .” Lassiter said.

  Victoria was thankful to talk about the case.

  “Suppose Benny really was in love with Nadia,” he continued. “Is it credible that he’s offering all that money and wishing her happy times with her true love?”

  “You’re a man. What do you think?”

  “ ‘All you need is love.’ Maybe that’s right for you and Solomon. Maybe even for me. But Benny’s not like us. He was full of crap about that. Lifetime criminals like Benny and the Gorev brothers are sociopaths. By definition, they don’t feel the give-and-take of human emotions.”

  When Victoria didn’t respond, Jake shot a look at her. She was looking in the passenger wing mirror.

  “What is it?” he said.

  “There’s a gray Range Rover that’s been behind us all the way since Old Cutler.”

  “Manuel Dominguez. Benny Cohen isn’t done with us yet.”