by J. L. Abramo
Add it all up and it still totaled zero.
I tried my best to remain positive and optimistic.
Maybe Lincoln French could offer some insights on the sell-out versus IPO debate. Maybe Dick Spencer would send Tina’s check up right away. Maybe someone would come forward and confess to the murder of Jimmy Pigeon. Maybe Vinnie Strings would shut the fuck up already about his five thousand dollars.
“Vinnie would you shut the fuck up already about the money. You’ll get it when you get it.”
Even I could be a brilliant analyst at times.
“I still can’t believe that he left more to Tina than to you or me.”
“I’m guessing she contributed more to his quality of life than we did, Vinnie.”
It was almost midnight when I dropped Vinnie in front of his apartment house on Haight Street.
I drove over to return the Impala to Joey Russo’s garage. I climbed into the Toyota and headed over to my apartment in the Fillmore.
My two rooms looking out on Alamo Square were a far cry from the house that Sally and I had shared near the Presidio, but it felt good to be getting home.
At least that’s what I thought until I got there.
The door to my apartment had been busted in; leaving a good part of the doorframe attached to the door itself.
Tina Bella Pazzo was nowhere to be found.
Thirteen
The apartment looked as if a cyclone had run through it. Then again that was pretty much the way I’d left it, so all it really told me was that Tina didn’t have the time or inclination to straighten the place up while she was here.
I was almost too tired to be concerned about Tina. I didn’t know if she had been here or not when the door was trashed. If it was one of Crazy Al’s goons who had made firewood of the doorframe, Tina could be on her way to somewhere she didn’t want to be.
But I didn’t think that her life was in danger.
The more pressing issue was the door itself. Since the landlord lived in Seattle, and the super was usually too drunk to locate his own door let alone mine, it would be a while before the thing was fixed unless I took care of it myself. Fortunately I had some cash, a retainer from Pazzo, so I pushed a table against the door to hold it closed and planned to see to it in the morning.
What I needed more than anything was some shut-eye.
I had promised Darlene that I would call when I got in, and even though it was pretty late I thought I’d better do it or I’d hear about it later. She picked up after the first ring, so either she grabbed it in the middle of deep sleep or was sitting on the call.
“I made it back, Darlene. Sorry if I woke you.”
“Jake, Tina just called. She’s out in the street and doesn’t know what to do. I would have told her to come here but I knew it would piss you off.”
“You’re right. What happened?”
“She said she went out for a pack of cigarettes and got back just in time to see your door get demolished, so she beat it.”
“Terrific. Where is she?”
“She’s in a bar on the corner of Haight and Ashbury. Why don’t you pick her up and you can both come over here?”
“Thanks, but I think we’ll stay away from your place, I wouldn’t want your boyfriend to get the wrong idea.”
Darlene’s boyfriend was a defensive lineman for the 49ers.
“He’s out of town.”
“That’s okay; I’ll bring her over to Vinnie’s.”
“Bet you’re looking forward to seeing Vinnie again after eight hours in the car with him.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Do you think they’ll come back Jake?”
“I don’t know Darlene. I’m too tired to think straight. I’ll drop Tina off with Vinnie and get a hotel room. In the morning I’ll get my door fixed. Stay away from the office, I’ll call you at home in the A.M.”
“Don’t call too early Jake. It’s Sunday around here.”
“Great. It ought to be fun trying to find someone to fix the door on a Sunday morning.”
“Joey Russo should be able to send someone over.”
“Good idea. How’d you get to be so smart?”
“I’m only this smart when I’m half asleep. Can I hang up now?”
“Go right ahead,” I said. And she did.
I emptied the dirty clothes from my travel bag and threw in some less dirty ones.
I collected Tina’s things while I was at it. I stepped into the hall and used one of my stained neckties to pull the table up against the inside of the door as close as I could manage, which left it slightly ajar.
A shattered jar.
I got into the Toyota and headed up Haight Street toward the bar. I found Tina sitting in a booth toward the back, nursing a Manhattan.
“Was it Al’s guys?” I asked, sitting down across from her.
“I don’t know. It was one guy, and he didn’t quite fit the bill. Too trim.”
“I have your things in the car. I’ll drop you over at Vinnie Strings’ place until we can figure something out.”
“I take it you don’t have my check.”
“Dick’s having a hard time holding a pen right now.”
“Vinnie’s not going to hit on me, is he?”
“I doubt it. He resents you too much for beating him out in the inheritance sweepstakes.”
“Are you staying at Vinnie’s too?”
“No, I’ll grab a hotel room.”
“Why don’t you take me with you?”
“Not a good idea, Tina. I don’t think Crazy Al would appreciate me shacking up with you in a hotel with money that he gave me to find you.”
“Al hired you to find me?”
“The sweetheart gave me four days.”
“So why would he send someone to your place?”
“Maybe he’s hedging his bets.”
“Maybe Al didn’t send him.”
“Come again.”
“Maybe the guy was looking for you. Maybe it has something to do with you snooping into Jimmy’s death. But either way, what are you going to do about Al?”
“I’m going to pray that in four days I have no idea where you are.”
“You want a drink?” she asked.
“No. Why don’t you finish that one so we can get out of here.”
While she was doing that I called Vinnie and told him I was on my way to drop Tina off. I told him I would get her out of there as soon as possible and that he should lay off her in the meantime.
After I left Tina with Vinnie I headed over to North Beach and checked into a small hotel in Little Italy. I used cash and checked in as Jacob Falco. I wish I could have believed that it would have made my Grandfather proud. I asked the kid at the desk to give me a wakeup call at eight. It was already past two in the morning and after all it was Sunday.
I lay down in the bed but I couldn’t fall asleep. As physically worn out as I was, my mind was doing calisthenics. I still had what was left of the Dickel in my bag. I passed on the cellophane wrapped plastic cup and took a few pulls straight from the bottle, hoping it would help me get to sleep. I thought about Sally, how in spite of the jerk I could be she was still a good sport. I thought about what Tina had said, the suggestion that the door-breaker may have been after me. If anyone thought I had learned anything of value in LA, they were dreaming. And Grace came to mind. How long had she been in Los Angeles and where had she gone off to just before Jimmy was killed?
Finally the booze did the job, but not without a price.
I dreamed that I had watched a carriage pull up to the front entrance of a countryside inn, somewhere along the road between Versailles and Paris.
Lucy Manette stepped out of the coach and entered the hostel, the coachman carrying her bags behind her. She looked a lot like Grace Shipley.
The driver returned, climbed to his position at the reins and spurred the horses.
A passenger leaned forward in his seat to peer out of the coach window and he star
ed at the door of the inn as the horses pulled away.
I couldn’t make out the man’s face.
Saving Grace
The trouble with you Jacob
is that you never seem to know what
the trouble is.
—Grace Shipley
Fourteen
I met Grace Shipley on the evening of the second anniversary of my marriage to Sally French.
During those first two years, Sally’s desire to see me join the Bytemp team had moved from mild proposal to strong recommendation to relentless pressure. And Sally had a strong ally in her newly found mother, Mrs. Temple. They ganged up on me, and I was taking it personally.
To Sally’s credit she never exactly used the words, If you really loved me you would quit your ridiculous investigation business and help us run the company.
She did, however, reach the point of suggesting that it was time that I decided what I wanted to be when I grew up.
When the anniversary day arrived we had been honoring a truce for almost a week in preparation for the historic occasion. We had planned to dine at the small French restaurant where we had gone on our first date, the idea being to create, or at least manufacture, a semblance of romance. We almost got away with it. But just before I left the office to meet Sally, I called home to tell her I was on my way.
“I’m heading out the door,” I said, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Great,” Sally said, “it’ll give us time for a drink before dinner. I bought some champagne.”
“I can’t wait. I’m feeling good Sally, happy that we’re going out tonight. How about you?”
“Me too. Of course I could be really happy if you would change your mind about coming to work with us, Jake.”
“Well, I hate be the one to come between you and real happiness but it just isn’t going to happen,” I yelled.
And then I slammed down the telephone.
I don’t know why I reacted so violently, and two seconds later I was sorry I had. Sally shouldn’t have said it. That was one night she could have let it rest.
But I could have brushed it off.
I suppose I was in no mood to restate for the hundredth time that I liked what I did for a living and had absolutely no interest in the importing and exporting of third rate sporting equipment. It infuriated me that Sally couldn’t let the day go by without making me have to say it again. The PI business had been slow at the time; Sally was carrying us and reminding me of the fact a little too often. Maybe it hurt my pride.
In any event, I failed to hold my tongue and when I called back a few minutes later, Sally didn’t answer the telephone.
I needed a drink, so I naturally walked down to Little Mike’s, just a block from my office on Columbus Avenue.
I decided I would try Sally again from the restaurant.
Little Mike’s is where you went if you liked sitting at a bar, which I did. There you could watch Mike Crimi sauté your shrimp and garlic at the stove directly behind the bar, the flames jumping out of the frying pan as you sipped your bourbon.
Little Mike’s is also where you went if you didn’t want to be bothered, which I didn’t. Unless someone like Grace Shipley ducks into the joint.
Then, if you’re Jake Diamond and you had just hung up on your wife on your wedding anniversary, you find yourself being bothered a lot.
And not minding it all that much.
As I said, Grace ducked into Little Mike’s. She did all the classic moves. She came into the place backwards. Once inside she pressed herself up against the inside of the door, pushed it shut with her back and closed her eyes as if it would make her invisible. It didn’t work; every eye in Little Mike’s was on her.
She stood there, holding her breath, and we all waited to see who was going to follow her in. Then someone pushed in from the outside.
She let out a gasp and let the door move her with it. Since her eyes were still closed, she couldn’t see that it was only Georgio, Mike’s delivery boy. When Georgio apologized for shoving her she opened her eyes, looked at the kid, and fainted.
Mike ran around from behind the bar, I went over from my barstool, and together he and I lifted her from the floor and moved her into the small back office and placed her onto the sofa.
I thought about waking her but she looked so tranquil that I let her be. I sat at the desk and stared at her. Mike brought in my glass of bourbon and a pitcher of water. No one had come into the restaurant looking for her. I worked on the drink and in a few minutes she opened her eyes and gazed into mine with a look that melted the ice in my George Dickel.
“Where am I?”
“In Little Mike’s office, back of the place you ducked into,” I said, “so who are you trying to avoid?”
“Can I have some of that water?”
I poured a glass of the iced water and carried it over to her. She sat up in the couch, took the glass, and emptied it in one drink.
“Anyone follow me in?” she asked.
“Well, there was the delivery kid. You gave him quite a scare.”
“I mean anyone looking for me?”
“Like who for instance?”
“Like anyone.”
“No.”
“Do you have a name?” she asked.
“Jake. Jake Diamond. How about you?”
“Grace.”
It figured.
“Can I trust you, Jake Diamond?” she asked.
In retrospect I should have said no.
“It’s worth a try.”
“I need a place where I can hide out, maybe for a day or two, just until I figure out what to do.”
“Figure out what to do about what?” I asked.
“Could we forego the specifics for the moment?”
“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
It’s a little idiosyncrasy of mine.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she said.
“I’m listening.”
“You hide me out for a day or two and I’ll tell you whatever you think you need to know to satisfy your curiosity. And I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
“What makes you think that my services are for sale?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said, with a smile that negated any iota of common sense I may still have had a loose grip on.
So instead of taking offense, I took the bait.
I certainly couldn’t take her home with me to meet the wife.
I wasn’t feeling too at ease about going home myself, at least until I could reach Sally on the phone and try to patch things up somehow. I knew that trying to call Sally was precisely what I should have been doing that very moment, instead of getting myself into something that I knew nothing about.
But why let what I knew get in my way.
In those days I was short of connections in San Francisco, when I wasn’t in the office or out on a job Sally kept me on a pretty short leash. It was before Vinnie Strings started hanging around, and before I was at ease about calling on Joey Russo.
My two closest friends were Jimmy Pigeon and Sam Chambers, but Jimmy was in Santa Monica and Sam was doing time down in Obispo. Like it or not, I was going to have to involve Darlene. I called her at home from Mike’s office.
“Hi, Jake. Happy Anniversary.”
“Thanks. I need some help.”
“If you’re calling for advice, a dozen long-stemmed red roses, a bottle of really good Champagne and a couple of candles can’t fail.”
“I have a friend needs a place to lay low for a day or two. Can you put her up?”
“Jake, snap out of it, I’m almost out the door to the airport. I know you never listen to me, but I’m shocked that you forgot that I’m on vacation this week. Especially since you complained so much about having to make the coffee all by yourself.”
“Jesus, I wasn’t thinking.”
“Try not making a habit of it. There’s a spare set of keys in my desk at the office; she
can stay here at my place while I’m gone if that suits her, as long as her wild parties don’t include fraternity brothers. Who is she?”
“Just someone who dropped into Little Mike’s in a jam.”
“You took Sally to Little Mike’s for your anniversary? How romantic.”
“Romantic wasn’t in the cards tonight, it’s a long story. Yeah, sure, your place would be great.”
“Okay, take the keys. I don’t have time for long stories. I’ll be back in a week, try to stay out of trouble.”
“Fat chance. Thanks, Darlene, I appreciate it.”
“Time will tell,” she said, and hung up the phone.
I turned to Grace. She had been acting tough, but I could see that she was very scared of something.
It only served to make her less resistible.
I decided to take her over to my office to pick up Darlene’s house keys.
When we arrived at the door to my office, Grace read the printing on the opaque glass window.
“Diamond Investigation,” she said as we walked in, “how about that.”
I found Darlene’s keys in her desk and snatched them up. I asked Grace to excuse me and went to my room in back to call Sally. I dialed the house with every intention of apologizing to Sally and begging her to meet me at the restaurant to try rescuing the anniversary plans. There was no answer.
I grabbed the bottle of bourbon and the two small glasses I kept on hand in my desk and went back out front.
“You know something,” she said as I handed her a glass, “I could really use a Private Investigator.”
Before I could respond, Sally walked through the door.
“Working overtime Jake?” she said, taking Grace in from head to toe.
“Sally, I just tried calling you. I can explain this.”
“Save your breath,” she said, and walked out.
“Sorry,” said Grace. “I seem to have landed you in trouble.”
“Don’t worry; I think I can take full credit for this landing.”
“What now? Are you going home tonight?”
“That’s questionable. I’ll take you over to Darlene’s, and you can tell me what kind of work you had in mind for me if you’re still interested in using me.”