Catching Water in a Net

by J. L. Abramo

  “Santa Rosa?” I asked, recalling Boyle’s mention of the D Street Deli.

  “Seventy-five D Street. Sonny’s parked at your office with the motor running.”

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Sonny sped up 101 North. Joey sat at his side, I sat in back; no one said much along the way. For thirty minutes I had been playing with Boyle’s business card, turning it in my fingers, looking down occasionally at his cellular number printed at the bottom. We passed the Petaluma exit and I finally put the card back into my pocket.

  Twenty minutes later we took the exit at Bennett Valley Road. Sonny turned left on Santa Rosa Avenue and right on Sonoma. He turned left on to D Street. Number 75 was on the right; across the street was the D Street Deli. I asked Sonny to continue to the next intersection.

  I glanced at the pay phone outside of the deli as we drove past. There was a small coffee shop at the corner of Second and D.

  “The Santa Rosa police may be watching the deli,” I said, “give me half an hour. I’ll meet you back here at the coffee shop.”

  I climbed out of the car and Sonny pulled away. I walked back to the house.

  The woman who opened the door would be sixty years old if she were in college with Jimmy Pigeon and Lincoln French. Her eyes belied her age. I saw immediately where Grace had inherited her looks.

  “Can I help you?” she said.

  “My name is Jake Diamond,” I said, “Jimmy Pigeon was a good friend of mine.”

  “Is he no longer a friend, Mr. Diamond?”

  “Jimmy is dead, Ms. Sims,” I said. It was the best I could do.

  “Come in, Mr. Diamond,” she said.

  I followed her into the kitchen where she invited me to take a seat. She poured two cups of coffee and joined me at the kitchen table.

  “I hadn’t seen Jimmy for years,” she said. “Was it was an accident?”

  “Yes,” I said. I decided that she could do without the harsher details.

  “I know who you are, Mr. Diamond. When I moved up here from Santa Monica, Jimmy gave me your name and told me that if I ever needed help I should call on you.”

  “Thankfully, you never needed to use it,” I said.

  “I did pass it on to my daughter however, when she was having some trouble with her husband. That would have been three years ago. Her name is Grace, Grace Shipley. Did she ever contact you?”

  “Not that I can recall, Ms. Sims.” I said.

  “Please, call me Hannah.”

  “Did Jimmy know that you had a daughter, Hannah?”

  “No. I don’t know why, but I never mentioned it. I only saw him a few times while I was in Santa Monica. I ran into him quite accidentally, in a supermarket of all places. I saw him once or twice afterwards, once just before I moved up here, to say good-bye. I was always fond of Jimmy; he just wasn’t made for domestic life. I’m very sorry to hear about his passing.”

  “Did your daughter know Jimmy? Know who he was?”

  “No. I’d never told her that I was previously married. I saw no reason.”

  “Have you seen her recently?”

  “Mr. Diamond, is there something you’re not telling me? Something to do with Grace?”

  “I don’t want to alarm you, Hannah, but I really don’t know. Grace’s name came up in a case I’m working on. In the course of the investigation I discovered that she had a mother in Santa Rosa and thought you might know where she was. I just wanted to ask her a few questions. It could be nothing.”

  “Mr. Diamond, I was married to Jimmy, no matter for how short a time. If there was one thing that Jimmy always insisted on, it was that coincidence is seldom if ever the right answer. Are you trying to tell me that your investigation, which possibly involves my daughter in some way, brought you my door and has nothing to do with Jimmy’s death? Because if you are, it would cause me to doubt your sincerity.”

  I told Hannah Sims the whole story.

  “Grace was here yesterday, Mr. Diamond,” Hannah said after I had confided in her. “As far I as know she is back in San Francisco. I could call her now.”

  “I think it would be better if you didn’t, Hannah. It’s important that I see her.”

  “Do you think she’s in danger?”

  “I’m not sure. If she is I don’t want to scare her off before I get to her. If you can trust me, after my earlier insincerity, I’ll do all I can to see to it that Grace is safe.”

  Hannah Sims wrote down a name and address for an apartment on California and Seventh in the Richmond District.

  “Grace never mentioned the name Canty?” I asked, back at the front door.

  “No,” Hannah said.

  “Thank you, Hannah. I’ll call you.”

  “Jake.”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise me you won’t let anyone hurt her.”

  “I promise,” I said.

  I walked back toward Second Street and saw the car turning onto D Street. Sonny stopped in front of the coffee shop and Joey spotted me. I picked up my pace.

  “Let’s get out of here before Boyle trips over us,” I said, hopping into the car.

  Sonny drove. Joey listened.

  “So, the night you met Grace, the night she happened into Little Mike’s?” Joey asked, not much like a question.

  “She knew who I was, or at least that I was a PI. She must have followed me to Little Mike’s from my office.”

  “Why? Why not just tell you that she had come looking for your help. Why the deception?” asked Joey.

  “That’s just one of the questions I’m anxious to ask her. Considering the way she took off on me after the Feds paid her off, I’m thinking that it might just be her nature.”

  “Where to, Jake?” asked Sonny, pulling into the southbound traffic on 101.

  “She’s at an address on Seventh and California,” I said.

  “Jesus,” said Joey, “that’s less than three blocks from my house.”

  “Small world, isn’t it?” I said.

  Sonny pushed it up to seventy.

  I asked Joey for his phone, pulled out Boyle’s card, and punched in the number.

  “Where are you, Jake,” Ray asked, “I tried calling you.”

  “Never mind where I am, Ray; where are you?”

  “On my way up to Santa Rosa.”

  I involuntarily slid down in my seat, as if Boyle might spot me across the median racing in the opposite direction.

  “That deli you mentioned sits across from the house of Jimmy Pigeon’s ex-wife. She doesn’t know anything, there’s no need to bother or alarm her, but the call up there worries me. Keep an eye on the house.”

  “Sure. Anything else?”

  “Did you locate Madison?”

  “I have a call in; I was told he’ll get back to me.”

  Good luck, I thought.

  “Okay, Ray. Let me know if you get word on Canty,” I said, and rang off.

  Sonny made record time. Thirty minutes later we were coming up to Seventh and California. I got out of the car in front of the house.

  “I’ll be over at my place,” said Joey, “call if you need me. Otherwise why don’t you walk over when you’re done here and Angela will feed you.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  I walked up the front steps to the door. The name Hannah had given me was Carol Taylor. I found the doorbell marked TAYLOR and gave it a long push.

  Twenty Eight

  “How did you find me?” Grace asked when she opened the front door.

  “I saw your mother.”

  “Jesus, Jake, why did you have to bring her into this.”

  “I think that you’ll have to take credit for that, Grace. Can I come in?”

  I followed her down a corridor and into the first floor apartment.

  “Nice place,” I said. “How long have you been here?”

  “A few weeks, I’m house-sitting for a friend.”

  “Funny that you haven’t run into Joey Russo strolling Clement Street.”


  “I’m not here much. What do you want, Jake?”

  “I want to know about the ride you took with Jimmy, the day before he died.”

  “I told you that the last time I saw Jimmy was at the graduation.”

  “I know what you told me; now I want to know the truth.”

  “Truth can be subjective, Jake.”

  “Save the philosophy, Grace. Tell me about the ride.”

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I don’t really care,” I said.

  She put some up anyway.

  “Jimmy took me over to Richman International. We sat parked across the street from the building. Eventually a man walked out and Jimmy asked me if I recognized him. It was Frank Slater. It knocked the wind out of me. I told Jimmy that it was Frank. Jimmy asked me not to say a thing about it and to stay away from Slater. Jimmy said that he planned to make a deal with Tony Carlucci that would settle Harry’s problem with Al Pazzo.”

  “Jimmy took you over to ID Slater?”

  “Yes. Jimmy said that Frank worked for Richman. Jimmy spotted Slater when he went over to try to change Richman’s mind about Ex-Con dot com and thought he knew him. Jimmy took me over to verify that it was Frank.”

  “So Jimmy was going to sell Slater to Carlucci and he winds up dead the next day. What did you make of that?”

  “I really believed that it was Pazzo who hit Jimmy, for messing with Al’s wife.”

  “After Jimmy died, did you ever think of contacting Carlucci to make a deal? To help Harry out of his jam, maybe take a few bucks for yourself?”

  “No. You couldn’t pay me enough to get anywhere near Tony Carlucci. The guy is worse than his brother John; he scares me to death.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me all of this when I saw you at Evelyn’s?”

  “As I said, Jake, I didn’t think it had anything to do with Jimmy’s death. As far as Frank Slater is concerned, I couldn’t care less what he does or who he works for as long as he stays out of my life. The guy is protected by the FBI, for God’s sake.”

  “I doubt they’ll want to protect him much anymore, now that he’s killed Richman.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Walter Richman was killed. The police are hunting for Frank.”

  “Jesus, Jake. Where are they looking?”

  “He called a pay phone at the D Street Deli in Santa Rosa.”

  Grace’s reaction was easily recognizable as one of surprise. It was convincing.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “I’m not sure I do either. Don’t worry; Ray Boyle is up there keeping an eye on your mother’s house.”

  “I should go up there,” she said.

  “No, I’m more worried about you. You’re safer right here.”

  “Safe from what, Jake?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Slater spotted you with Jimmy. Maybe he’s looking for you. Until this is settled you should stay right here and not move. Joey Russo is three streets away; I’ll be over there for a while.”

  I gave her Joey’s number.

  “Are you sure that my mother will be alright?” she asked.

  “Yes. Don’t go out. Call me if you need me. I’ll let you know if they find Slater.”

  “Jake, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. About the night we met, and about leaving the way I did.”

  “Maybe we’ll talk about it another time,” I said.

  I turned and walked out of the apartment.

  Two hours later, Joey, his wife and I were finishing off one of Angela four-course meals when the phone rang.

  “It’s Boyle,” Joey said.

  “Jake.”

  “Ray, what’s up?”

  “I just got a call from LA. They just found a body in the trunk of a rental car in the garage at the Richman Building. Richman’s receptionist, Susan Fairbanks, identified the man as Jack Canty. He’s been dead since yesterday.”

  “Was it Frank Slater?”

  “I don’t know. There’s no one to ID the body. I’m still waiting to hear from Agent Madison.”

  “What did Ted Alster have to say?”

  “They haven’t been able to locate him. Fairbanks said that Alster was in the office until late morning and then left.”

  “Ray, why is it that this doesn’t come as good news?”

  “I feel the same way; I’m headed back down to Los Angeles tonight.”

  “Is everything alright up in Santa Rosa?”

  “Yes. I’ll make sure that the house is covered twenty-four-seven until we figure out what’s going on.”

  “Ray.”

  “Yeah, Jake?”

  “Find Alster.”

  “I’ll let you know,” he said, and rang off.

  Fifteen minutes later Joey’s cell phone rang.

  “I’ll let you speak with Mr. Diamond,” I heard Joey say, then he handed the phone to me; “It’s Agent Madison.”

  “How can I help you, Mr. Diamond?”

  “Listen, Madison. Carefully. Your boy Frank Slater has killed three people and may be aiming for four. I don’t want to hear any bullshit about Witness Protection or cleaning up your own messes. Just give me the name.”

  “He’s been using the name Alster.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Slater tried to reach me this afternoon. I’ve been out of town. The call came from San Francisco. He left a message that he was in a jam and would call me back.”

  I shoved the phone into Joey’s hand and ran from the house. I made it over to Seventh and California in three minutes. I felt as if I needed an iron lung. I took the front steps four at a time and leaned on Carol Taylor’s doorbell. There was no answer. I rang another doorbell and was buzzed into the building. I ran up to the apartment door and began pounding on it. I was about to try a Vic Stritch on the door when I heard Joey’s voice behind me.

  “Try the door knob,” he said.

  The door was unlocked.

  Grace was gone.

  I sat in one of the kitchen chairs; Joey took another.

  “What else did you get from Madison?” I asked.

  “Madison never heard of Jimmy Pigeon. Madison never made an appointment for a meeting with Jimmy on the night Jimmy was killed,” Joey said, “Slater must have called Jimmy claiming to be Madison and set up the meet.”

  “I can’t believe that Jimmy let Slater walk right in and kill him,” I said.

  “There’s not much you can do right now,” Joey said. “Want a ride home?”

  “Sure.”

  We walked back to Joey’s house and climbed into his car. When we turned onto Fillmore Street I saw the black Cadillac sitting in front of my apartment building.

  “That’s Al Pazzo and his gorilla,” I said. “My four days to find Tina Pazzo expired a few days ago.”

  “You can stay at my place,” said Joey.

  “Take me over to Sally’s,” I said.

  “Nice outfit,” Sally said when she answered the door.

  “Thanks for leaving it out for me,” I said.

  “Come on in,” she said. “Sit. Get those shoes off. Care for coffee?”

  I dropped onto the living room sofa.

  “I could really use a drink.”

  I was exhausted. Sally came up with a glass with ice and an unopened fifth of George Dickel.

  I knew that she didn’t normally keep one around.

  “So,” she said, taking the opposite end of the couch, “how was your day?”

  I told her all about it.

  “Do you think that Grace Shipley may be in danger?” Sally asked.

  “I don’t know what to think; I don’t know if I can believe a word Grace told me. She’s lied from the first day I ever saw her.”

  “Jake, I don’t have to tell you the story of the boy who cried wolf, do I?”

  “What?”

  “If there’s even the slightest chance that Grace is in danger, you have to allow the benefit of t
he doubt. There’s less to lose if you’re wrong. I thought I asked you to take those shoes off.”

  I slipped off the shoes and leaned back into the sofa.

  I opened my eyes to find Sally shaking my shoulder.

  “It’s Joey on the phone,” she said.

  “What time is it?”

  “Around nine-thirty,” she said.

  I had slept for more than two hours.

  “Joey?”

  “Jake, meet me over at Carlucci’s Restaurant, now.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Just get over there,” Joey said, and he hung up.

  “I’ll give you a ride over,” Sally said.

  I pulled the shoes back on.

  Twenty Nine

  I walked into Carlucci’s, the bartender signaled me to go to the back office. I found Tony Carlucci at his desk. Joey hadn’t arrived.

  “Joey Russo asked me to meet him here,” I said.

  “I got a funny phone message when I was out, came in about an hour ago, I thought that maybe you could help me figure it out,” said Tony.

  “What makes you think that I can figure it out?” I asked.

  What would make anyone think that I could figure anything out?

  “It was a message from Grace Shipley,” Tony said.

  “What was the message?”

  “The message was that she had thought about my proposition and was ready to tell me where I could find Frank Slater.”

  “What proposition?”

  “That’s the funny part; I never made any proposition. I don’t know what the dame was talking about.”

  “That was it?”

  “The message said she would meet me at the Shrine at ten tonight, to make the deal. I’m not about to walk into some kind of trap; that place is real deserted at this time of night. So tell me what’s up, Diamond.”

  The clock above Carlucci’s desk read 9:48.

  “What Shrine?”

  “Saint Francis of Assisi, up the street on Vallejo.”

  “Tell Russo I’m headed there,” I yelled and ran out of the office and out onto Union Street.