by Don Passman
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No, it’s not. How’d you like to run a theater and wonder if your headliner is going to the slammer?”
I shifted the phone to my other ear. “It’s not like I’d just disappear overnight. Even if I got jail time, which is highly unlikely, he’d have plenty of notice.” I think.
“Yeah, well, that’s nice. Unfortunately, there’s a shitload of magicians who aren’t involved with the criminal justice system. Harvey, the Vegas gig is dead until this thing is settled.”
I sat down so fast that Lisa dug her claws into my shoulder. “Marty, I need the money.”
“And I could use the ten percent. Sorry. I tried. I really did.”
I slammed down the phone.
I felt my heartbeat in my ears.
All right. Think.
I rubbed my eyes.
How do I beat this thing?
Shit.
Even I’m starting to wonder if maybe I sleepwalked and killed her.…
I stopped rubbing my eyes and saw flashing pinpoints. I blinked them away and looked around my messy apartment. Man. They even dumped out my overdue bills. Next to that pile was the crumpled eviction notice.
The Vegas gig is on hold. The school system obviously has me on their Ten Most Un-Wanted list. I can’t take any more money from Mom. It’ll take me years to pay back the hundred grand.
I blew out a ruffled breath through my lips. Only one way to raise the money.
I stepped carefully through the crap on my living room floor, got down on my knees, and dug out my address book. I stood up and opened it to the G’s. Stared at the page. Can I do this?
I punched in the first six digits of the phone number.
Put my finger on the last one.
Started to push it.
Hung up.
I looked at Lisa and said, “You got any ideas?” She cocked her head.
I dialed the number.
One ring.
Should I hang up?
Second ring.
Maybe he won’t answer.
Herb Gold picked up. “Yeah?”
“Herb, it’s Harvey. Tell Copperfield I’ll sell my crystal trunk.”
I heard a band saw in the background. “Sorry, kid. I know that’s tough.”
“Tell him I want a hundred grand for it.”
Herb laughed. “Just a hundred? Why don’t you go for half a mil?”
I sat on the arm of my couch. “I’m serious.”
“Sorry, this is Herb Gold. Did you mean to call the nut ward at L.A. County Hospital?”
I stood up. “I need a hundred grand.”
“And I could use a nine-inch dick.”
I scrunched the phone between my shoulder and my ear. “Herb, I’m not just selling the trick. I’m selling my shot at the big leagues.”
“Kid, he offered twenty-five. That was a stretch.”
“You said thirty.”
“I said I’d try for thirty. He offered twenty-five.”
“Well, the price is a hundred.”
“So in other words, you don’t really want to sell.”
“Tell him that’s the offer.”
I hung up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Throughout the evening, I tried Carly every couple of hours.
Next morning, I called her as soon as I woke up. No answer.
Maybe she’s out of town. I’m sure she’ll call as soon as she gets the messages.
Wouldn’t she have her cell with her?
Maybe she left her cell at home. Maybe it’s got a dead battery.
* * *
When I got to Hannah’s office the next morning, she was typing on her computer. I started filing.
We didn’t talk during the day.
Late in the afternoon, she left the office for a meeting with a potential client. I took the liberty of leaving a little early and drove toward Carly’s apartment. She’s obviously avoiding me, so I’ll just show up and have a little discussion. Since we met for coffee at five thirty, and that was pretty close to her apartment, she should be home around that time.
I got to her building just before six and buzzed the intercom. She answered right away. “Yes?”
I said, “Carly, it’s Harvey. I need to talk to you.”
I listened to the static of the intercom.
She said, “This is really awkward.”
“Give me five minutes. Then I’ll never bother you again.”
More static.
She said, “I don’t…”
“Four minutes.”
“Harvey…”
“Three minutes. Final offer.”
The static went silent.
The door buzzed.
I pulled it open and ran quickly to her unit. Before I could knock, she opened her door about twelve inches. Her hand gripped the door edge so tightly that her fingers blanched.
I said, “Can I come in?”
“I think it’s better if we talk here.”
“Okay. Start the stopwatch. So, I’m guessing you didn’t return my calls because most of your dates don’t end with the man getting arrested. Am I warm?”
Her face stayed somber.
I said, “Well, we have something in common. It’s never happened to me before, either.”
Carly closed the door slightly. “I don’t think there’s anything funny about this.”
I lowered my head. “Sorry. Look, I understand you barely know me. I can’t blame you for being cautious.”
“Cautious?” Her voice rose. “Harvey, you know I have a deep moral conviction about the sanctity of life. Your lawyer told me you were arrested for murder.”
Thanks, Hannah.
I leaned my hand against the doorjamb. Carly backed up half a step.
She said, “On top of that, I got blindsided by this whole thing. You might have at least had the decency to tell me yourself.”
“Well, it’s not exactly the kind of thing you rush to tell someone you’ve just met. Besides, it’s all a mistake. I thought it would go away.”
“When we first met, you lied about why you were at the lab.”
“I told you the truth. I said I was dropping off evidence for a criminal lawyer. I just didn’t mention—”
“It’s not like you got a speeding ticket. Even if you put aside my views on human life, how would you feel if someone you dated was accused of murder?”
Whoa. How would I feel?
What if I’d just met her, and the cops thought she’d murdered her last boyfriend?
I said, “Carly, I really like you. It would have been nice to have your support right now, but I can’t blame you. We hardly know each other.”
She blinked a few times.
I stepped back from her door and said, “I guess we’ll both have to see how we feel when this is over.”
I turned and walked slowly down the hall.
I didn’t hear the door closing behind me.
I didn’t look back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Next morning, when I got to Hannah’s office, I saw her father sitting at her desk. Hannah was standing beside him.
Her father looked at me with that intense stare. “Morning, Harvey.”
“Mr. Fisher.”
“Please. Call me Bruce.”
Well, aren’t we all touchy-feely. “Morning, Bruce. You look like you’re feeling a lot better.”
“Yes.” He turned back to Hannah, as if I had just ceased to exist. Bruce said, “I think you’re going to lose the motion to suppress evidence in the Desmond case.”
Hannah shifted her weight. “I’m not so sure.”
“You already got the bounce from the publicity. Sure, you’ll get some more if you win, but that’ll be down the road. And most likely you’ll lose. The jury will hate your client and love the celebrity father of the victim. Take the plea bargain and move on.”
She put her hands on her hips. “If I take a long shot and bring it home, then I’ll have re
ally done something.”
Bruce slowly shook his head. He tightened his lip on one side, as if to say, How can I possibly explain this to someone so naïve? “Well, if you’re not going to take my advice, that’s your prerogative.”
Hannah spoke louder. “Something about this case stinks. I’m going to find it.”
Bruce turned up his palms. “Then go right ahead. Experience holds a dear school.”
“The rest of that expression is, ‘And fools can learn no other way.’” Hannah reddened. “Are you calling me a fool?”
He smiled, as if to say, If the shoe fits …
Hannah sputtered, “You don’t respect my judgment, do you?”
“You’re a very bright young woman. On the other hand, I’ve got thirty-plus years of experience, which gives me an excellent gut instinct.”
“Well, I have a gut instinct that I can win this case, so I’m going to follow it.”
Bruce held up his hands, still grinning. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”
She jerked her thumb toward the door. “Well, be helpful by letting me have my desk.”
He looked startled. Bruce quickly recovered, then stared at her. He didn’t get out of the chair.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Dad?”
He put his hands on the desk and used it to hoist himself out of the chair. Bruce grimaced as he straightened up. Is he really in pain?
Her father cleared his throat, then strode out of her office, leaving the door open.
Hannah started to run after him, then stopped short. She slammed the door.
When she turned around toward me, I said, “Bravo. You stood up to the old man.”
Hannah’s stoic expression dissolved into pain. Her eyes got wet. “He was only trying to help me.”
Actually, he was trying to control you, but I see absolutely no upside in getting between you and your father.
She turned toward the closed door, her back to me. Her head stooped forward. A quick shiver went through her body.
I took a step toward Hannah.
Should I touch her? I reached out, then stopped my hand in midair, a couple of inches above her shoulder.
I said, “Hannah?”
Keeping her back to me, she shook her head. Hannah took a few steps forward, grabbed the door, flung it open, and ran out of the office.
* * *
She got back about a half hour later. Her posture was ramrod-straight, her face serious. In other words, full-blast attorney mode.
Hannah walked past me to her desk, with an expression that said, You are not to mention my father. As she dove into her computer, I could feel the force field walling her off.
* * *
Hannah left the office for her mysterious meeting a little before one. While she was out, and mostly because I thought her father was an arrogant asshole, I pulled out the Desmond file and started looking through it. Maybe I can find something she missed and she’ll give me a gold sticky star. Right after she gives me a lecture about slacking off my filing.
Desmond’s police report said that LAPD officer Beeks saw Desmond driving a late-model red Mercedes sports coupe on Wilshire Boulevard near Bundy, at one A.M. on March 18. Two hours after Jason Hedges was shot in the parking lot of Silver Shadows, a nightclub in Echo Park. Because Desmond’s vehicle headlights weren’t turned on, the officer made a routine stop and noticed blood on Desmond’s clothes. He then searched the car and found a handgun in the glove compartment.
I flipped the page and read that a ballistic test confirmed the gun was used to shoot Hedges.
Holy Shit.
How the hell is Hannah going to get around this one?
Why would she put a nasty punk like this back on the streets?
As I turned to the next page, I heard the office door start to open. I quickly dropped the file, grabbed some papers, and acted like I was sorting them. Hannah walked in, looking at me suspiciously.
* * *
Late in the afternoon, Hannah’s fax machine screeched to life, then spit out a piece of paper. She picked it up, read it, then looked at me, narrowing her eyes.
Why do I suddenly feel like a kid whose mother just got his report card?
Still holding the fax, Hannah sat down in her desk chair.
She said, “Harvey?”
“Yeah…”
“Pull up a chair.”
I cleared my throat. “What’s up?”
“Have a seat.” She gestured at the chair.
I picked up the guest chair, carried it over to her desk, spun it around backward, and sat with my legs astride the seat. I crossed my forearms over the back. “What?”
Hannah held the fax out for me. I took it and read the blurry print.
My arrest report from Virginia, back when I was in college.
I said, “This is the DUI. Where they took my DNA. I told you about it.”
“You didn’t mention that you got violent when they arrested you.”
I dropped the hand holding my paper to the side. “That’s because I have a fear of needles. I told you about that phobia, remember?”
“You’re saying, because you have a phobia, you…” She held out her hand for the paper. I gave it to her. Hannah read, “‘… attempted to flee, then attacked Officer Daniels, bruising Daniels’s face and neck.’”
I tightened my lips. “I had cancer when I was seven. I needed a bunch of painful injections. You know what chemotherapy is like? My hair came out in chunks. I puked up the insides of my lungs. My bones felt like they were under a blowtorch.”
Her eyes softened.
I said, “One time, the chemo nurse made a mistake with the needle. She had to stick me five or six times. I have this vivid memory that my arm was spurting blood. My mother says I imagined it. I was just bleeding badly. Whatever happened, my arm swelled up twice as big, and the skin turned purple-black. It hurt so much that I could barely touch it for weeks.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Anyway, before I could take any more chemo shots, they had to first give me a tranquilizer. By mouth.”
“But taking DNA is just a matter of a mouth swab.”
“Not in Virginia. Not back in those days.”
“Even then, they would have done swabs as well as using needles. At least in California, they’d only use a needle if someone was really an asshole.”
I grimaced. “Well, I mighta suggested something about the cop having carnal desires for his mother.”
She nodded. “That would probably do it.” Hannah let out a sigh. “Look, I certainly understand the childhood trauma. But you were an adult when this happened. Why would you hit a cop?”
“First of all, I was drunk, which, I’ve discovered, makes me paranoid. Second, phobias aren’t rational. How do you feel about slithering snakes?”
Hannah shifted in her seat. “Okay. Still, violence doesn’t look good in this context.”
I stood, straddling the seat, gripping the chair back. “I’m sure my doctor can testify this is a long-standing phobia.”
Hannah shrugged. “Well, it is what it is.” She dropped the paper on her desk.
“Is there something I should do about it?”
“There’s nothing we can do at this point.”
“When do we hear from the lab about the DNA sample?”
“Should be anytime now. If they’ll tell me without being paid.”
I felt my face flush.
Hannah said, “I need to meet with David Hu. To verify your alibi.”
“You haven’t met him yet?”
“I can’t pin him down. First he was traveling; now he says he’s tied up in meetings.”
I pulled the chair from between my legs and set it to the side. “I’ll fix that.”
I grabbed the phone and called David’s office. His assistant said he was in a meeting. I said, “Get him. It’s urgent.”
A few minutes later, David came on the line. “Your house better be on fire. I just left two CEOs, three inves
tment bankers, and four lawyers in a conference room.”
I said, “How come you’re not meeting with Hannah?”
“We’re merging two tech companies. I’ve been in nonstop meetings since I got back. Including the one you just pulled me out of.”
“This is, like, really important.”
“Okay, okay.”
“When?”
“I’m in the closing. Probably an all-nighter.”
“Tomorrow?”
“You’re busting my ass.”
“See how you feel when you’re facing jail time.”
He let out an Aaaargh. “All right. Tomorrow night. Soon as I can get off work. At the Magic Castle?”
“Done.”
He hung up.
* * *
That night, I called David’s home and left a message on his machine. “Just reminding you. We’re meeting Hannah tomorrow night. Also, remember we were together all night on February twenty-second.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The next night, I pulled up in front of the Magic Castle a little after seven. I walked up to Hannah, who was standing by the door. In my back pocket, I had the schedule of magicians performing on the night Sherry was killed. Just in case David’s memory needed a little refreshing.
We went inside to the front desk and I gave Tillie my membership card. She swiped it through the slot in the reader.
As Tillie gave back my card, Hannah said to her, “Does your computer keep a log of member sign-ins?”
“Yes. But just for the last couple of years, since we installed it.”
“Can you take a look at February twenty-second of this year?”
Good one, Hannah! I smiled.
Tillie said, “I think that’s confidential.”
I said, “It’s important. All we need to do is verify that I was here, and what time I signed in.”
“Well … Okay, Harvey.”
Tillie punched a few keys. “Yep. You got here at six forty.”
Oh yeah!
Hannah said, “What time did he leave?”
Tillie shook her head. “Sorry, honey, we don’t keep track of that.”
Oh shit.
I took Hannah to the bookshelf, where she said “Open Sesame” to let us inside. We walked past a full-size suit of armor as we entered the Victorian mansion. I watched her looking at the hand-carved wooden staircase, the red velvet furniture, and the gold-framed oil paintings of famous magicians. Is she impressed? In a corner, I saw my pal Lenny at a small table covered with green felt. He was surrounded by half a dozen people who were watching him do impromptu card tricks. As he fanned out the deck, Lenny gave me a wink. I waved back.