by J. L. Abramo
“You tell me.”
“I’m supposed to meet Frank at the airport in Grand Cayman. We go to the bank and withdraw the money, split it up, end of story.”
“You have two choices Grace. You help me get Frank or you don’t. Either way you are out ten million dollars, but if you help me it may keep you out of prison.”
“I don’t care anymore. I don’t care about the money, and I’m already in hell. I can’t see how prison could be any worse.”
I picked up the room telephone and dialed the front desk.
“There’s a Ms. Roman in the lobby reading a sports magazine; could you please send her up to Room 418.”
I lit a Camel and sat on the bed to wait for Darlene.
We went through the plan once and then once again. Darlene was losing patience fast; Grace sat two feet from her but was a million miles away.
There was a knock on the door.
“Sonny,” I said, “I didn’t know it would be you.”
“It was either me or Joey, and my mother-in-law won the debate.”
He came into the room and stood against the wall.
“Again, Darlene,” I said.
“We get off the plane, I find Slater, and I tell him the score.”
“Come on, Darlene. I want you to go through the whole thing one more time. Practice makes perfect and I want Sonny to hear this.”
“You’re making me mad, Jake. I might just run off with Frank.”
“Darlene.”
“I meet Slater at the airport in Grand Cayman. Mr. Slater, I say, I’m here on behalf of Grace Shipley. And Jake Diamond. Mr. Diamond would love to see you swinging from a tree, but he would love five million dollars just a tiny bit more. I have Grace’s part of the information needed to access the cash, and you can’t get at it without me,” Darlene paused a beat. “Keep quiet and let me finish, Frank.”
Sonny was trying to stifle a laugh.
“Go on.” I said.
“I’ll meet you at the bank when it opens tomorrow morning, I say, we’ll get the dough and you can kiss me goodbye. In the meanwhile, if Mr. Diamond doesn’t hear from me every hour on the hour you’ll never get anywhere near the bank,” Darlene let out a long sigh. “Then I turn and walk away.”
I turned to Sonny the Chin.
“And you follow Slater,” I said to him, “go on Darlene, you’re doing great.”
“Aw shucks Boss, thanks. I meet Slater at the bank; we get the money and make the split; I catch my flight to Buenos Aires.”
This time I had to laugh.
“Okay. I go back to my hotel room and give you a yell,” said Darlene.
“And I follow Slater,” said Sonny.
“I want Darlene to be safe at all times, Sonny.”
“Don’t worry, Jake.”
“Can we go now or do you want us to miss the flight,” said Darlene.
“Okay, get out of here. Be careful.”
Sonny and Darlene left for the airport.
I would have to stay in the hotel room for the next twenty-four hours worrying about them and keeping company with a zombie.
Thirty One
I called down to the front desk and ordered a pot of coffee and a carton of Camel cigarettes.
Darlene called from her hotel in Grand Cayman at eight in the evening. I had spent the last ten hours watching television, reading Dickens, drinking bad coffee and smoking up a storm. I managed to get Grace to eat something at lunchtime, but her dinner sat getting cold on the bedside table. She mostly stared into space, silently, once in a while lying down, though I don’t think she ever slept. It was torture.
“Slater will meet me at the bank at nine A.M.” said Darlene. “Sonny tailed him from the airport; he said he’ll call you later.”
“What’s it like down there?”
“Just groovy, Jake. Especially when you’re a gal who just loves to drink watered-down rum and artificially sweetened pineapple juice out of a coconut shell. I’m heading down to the poolside bar to grab a few right now. Take a count of how many college boys tell me what a bitchin’ babe I am.”
“Darlene I told you that you didn’t have to do this.”
“I know what you told me, Jake. Chill out, I’m just yanking your chain. It’s really quite beautiful down here. In fact I was hoping that when this was over I could hang out. Maybe get my boyfriend down here for a few days.”
“Sure, Darlene, live it up. Call me before you leave for the bank.”
Just before ten Sonny called telling me he had Slater covered and would call again in a few hours.
Just before eleven there was a knock on the door. It was Joey Russo.
“I rented the room next door, Jake. Thought you might try to get some sleep,” he said, looking over at Grace laying quietly on the bed. “I’ll sit with her for a while.”
“I’m expecting a call from Sonny.”
“I’ll let you know if there’s any problem.”
I went into the next room and dropped onto the mattress. I put in for a wake-up call at six. I didn’t really think I could sleep, but I was wrong.
The call at six came in no time. I splashed some water on my face and went back to Grace’s room. To my amazement I found Grace and Joey talking with each other. She looked a lot better than when I had left.
“Good morning, Jake. I was just telling Grace about my grandkid. How she loves hiding my car keys and shakes a finger at me when I try to light a cigar in the house. How about I order some breakfast?”
I looked at Joey and shook my head in awe.
I wanted to be like Joey Russo when I grew up.
“Sounds great, Joey,” I said.
Joey’s presence had done wonders. Grace was doing an impressive job on the food. Joey had brought some magazines over with him and Grace was thumbing through them. Joey and I watched the Today Show and waited for word from Darlene.
Darlene called at eight-forty.
“Sonny just called me; Slater left for the bank. I’m on my way now.”
“Call me as soon as you get back.”
“Will do.”
All we could do was wait some more.
I nearly jumped out of my chair when the phone rang at ten thirty.
“Done,” said Darlene.
“Where are you?”
“Back at my hotel.”
“And Slater?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure Sonny’s on him like white on rice.”
I knew better, but I asked anyway.
“And the money?”
“Where do you think the money is, Jake?”
“Where I told you to put it.”
“I walked it right into the next bank I passed after Slater left. Which was about two feet away from the one we had just come out of. There was a nicer looking one right across the street, but I didn’t want to risk being run down by a bus while I was carrying ten million.”
“Let me have the name of the bank and the account number.”
“Well, okay, I guess so,” she said. I could see her smiling. She gave me the information.
“I can’t thank you enough Darlene, you deserve a little vacation. Is your boyfriend coming down to join you in Paradise?”
“He can’t make it, the bum. Pre-season training camp. And I don’t know how much fun I’d have staying here alone.”
“I could send Vinnie Strings down.”
“Go fly a kite, Diamond. I’ll suffer it another day and fly out first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you, Darlene.”
“You want to thank me, get a new coffee machine for the office.”
I placed the receiver down and the phone rang again instantly.
“Jake, Sonny. Slater is leaving for the airport. I have no idea where he’s headed but I’ll follow all the way. You might not hear from me for a while, so sit tight. And don’t worry; I know what to do.”
“Thanks, Sonny.”
I hung up the phone and turned to Joey.
“So, that
’s it,” he said.
“Until we hear from Sonny.”
“And what about her?” Joey asked quietly, nodding toward Grace.
“I guess I’ll try to talk to her.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you to it.”
He rose from his chair and moved to the door.
“Remember what my old man used to say Jake, your way and the right way.”
He smiled at me and left the room.
I looked over at Grace Shipley.
I was on my own.
It was time to find out what I could handle on my own.
High time.
It had been about greed, one of the seven deadly sins, in this case very deadly. There are those who would call it human nature, the need to accumulate more money or more power by nearly any means. Not to be condoned necessarily, but often hard to argue against and often difficult to resist.
Some have credited greed as the driving force behind the progress of Western Civilization. The unsung hero of free enterprise. Greed had been around a long time; many souls less vulnerable than Grace Shipley had succumbed to its seductiveness.
Was Grace responsible for the deaths of Jimmy Pigeon, Walter Richman and Jack Canty? Yes, partly.
Could she have prevented their deaths? Perhaps.
Could anything be done to change these events? Nothing.
Could I judge her and condemn her?
I didn’t feel qualified.
Sally French had said to me once, I can’t recall the circumstance, that there was no mystery to life; it just happened. Whatever was going to happen with Grace’s life, I decided that I would be no part of it.
“Grace.”
“Yes?” She sat on the bed, staring at the floor.
“Grace, look at me.”
She looked up into my eyes.
“It’s all over, Grace. I’ll keep you out of it.”
“I wondered, especially after Frank killed Jimmy, why he hadn’t just killed me in the first place, before he signed me on for half the score. And I could only think of one reason, and this is the really sick part in all of this. Frank seriously believed that after we collected the money we would stay together and live happily ever after.”
“Consider yourself lucky that he was still in love with you.”
I considered myself very lucky that I wasn’t still in love with her.
“I was planning to kill Frank. When I got to the island.”
“Grace, you can leave now,” I said.
“Leave?”
“Yes, please.”
“Where do I go?”
“I can’t help you.”
She didn’t have to tell me that she understood.
She rose slowly from the bed, straightened her dress, moved to the door and opened it. She hesitated for a split second and walked out.
I sat, my eyes closed, my mind blank.
An hour had gone by unnoticed when the telephone rang.
Sonny.
“Isla Margarita, Venezuela. I would have called you from the air but there was no phone; the plane was so small I’m surprised it had a cockpit”
“Is it done?”
“Mission accomplished. I stopped Slater as he was fumbling with his room key. You would have loved it, Jake. I put a Coca-Cola bottleneck in his back and said, ‘Move and I’ll shoot.’ He turned to jelly. When we got inside the room I knocked him out cold with the pop bottle. Don’t worry, he’ll live, but he’s going to have a whopping headache. Villa Cabo Blanco. Room six-eleven. I took the money and put it into a safe deposit box at the nearest bank.”
Sonny read off the pertinent information.
“Great job, Sonny.”
“I took Slater’s passport, all of his other identification and most of his pocket cash. I left him a few bucks for aspirin. He’s going to be stuck there for a while. I have to run; there’s a flight out of here in less than an hour.”
“Okay, thanks. I speak with you when you get back.”
I called Detective Boyle in Los Angeles.
“Ray, there’s twenty million dollars in two banks down in the Caribbean. I’ll give you the details and you can pass them on to Richman International or the insurance company or whatever.”
“That’s a lot of bread, Jake,” he said, after taking down the information. “Weren’t you just a little tempted?”
“What would I do with twenty million bucks, Ray. If it weren’t for my addictions to Dickel, Camels and Mylanta I wouldn’t know what to do with the few hundred I already have.”
“Where’s Slater?”
“He got away.”
“Was he in it alone?”
“As far as I know.”
“Okay Jake, so long.”
I was pretty sure that Boyle didn’t believe me, but Ray had known for a long time what I had only learned in the past few days. Trying to discover what’s not ready to be discovered is like trying to catch water in a net.
I had one more phone call to make and then I could get out of that God forsaken hotel room.
“Carlucci’s Restaurant, Tony speaking.”
“Room 611. Villa Cabo Blanco. Isla Margarita, Venezuela,” I said.
“Drop by for dinner sometime, Diamond. I’m buying.”
“I’ll think about it, but don’t hold your breath,” I said, and hung up the phone.
I picked up the carton of cigarettes and left the room.
Thirty Two
It’s amazing how quickly things can get right back to normal.
I had picked up a few new clients during the following week; the cases were far from unusual or challenging.
I had spoken briefly with Hannah Sims. She called asking if I knew where Grace had gone. I didn’t. Hannah said that Grace had disappeared. Grace had the vanishing act down pat.
“Grace is a survivor, Hannah,” I said.
It was the best I could do.
A check for twenty thousand dollars had come to the office from Dick Spencer, written to Tina Bella Pazzo. Tina had let Darlene know where to send the money when it arrived. I sent fifteen thousand down to Tina, somewhere in Mexico. I would give the five grand that remained back to Joey for the grubstake he’d given Tina when she left.
I sent the thousand down to Myron Coolidge that Joey had promised him, from what I had left of Carlucci’s cash. The kid had earned it.
After expenses for Darlene and Sonny’s island adventure I still had enough money left over to buy a new coffee machine for the office and a few neckties.
I felt I was finally ready for the ties.
The twenty million had been collected from the banks in Cayman and Venezuela and returned to Richman International. I received a thank you card from the acting CEO.
As far as Frank Slater was concerned, he was nowhere to be found. And he never would be.
I was sitting at home on a Saturday evening when Joey Russo called.
“Jake, I just heard from Tony Carlucci. He’d like to buy you dinner. Thank you properly for giving him Frank Slater. I told him that I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“You said that I wasn’t interested?”
“Well, maybe I said you weren’t available. In any case I thought I’d pass Tony’s appreciation on.”
“What happened to Slater?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Maybe I’ll take Tony up on his dinner invite. There’s some unfinished business he might be able to help with if he’s as appreciative as he says he is.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Something I’ve been thinking about for the past few days. If you’ll join me, I can run it by you on our way over to Carlucci’s.”
“I don’t know, Jake. Angela is cooking up a storm over here.”
“Joey, I could really use your help on this.”
“I thought I’d never hear you say it, Jake. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
The white-haired, dinner-jacketed waiters brought more, more and then more food for nearly two
hours. There wasn’t one waiter at Carlucci’s who looked to be less than sixty years old; I imagined that every one of them had worked the room for forty years. The Chianti was the seventy-five-dollar a bottle variety. Mama Carlucci kept coming up to the table to make sure that we were all chewing. Joey had assured me that there would be no discussion of business until the final dinner plate was removed from the table, until coffee, anisette and dessert was in place. The coffee was black and strong, the liqueur was imported and the pastry was homemade.
“So,” said Carlucci, getting right down to business, “Joey tells me you have something to ask, Jake. Mind if I call you Jake?”
“Not at all, Mr. Carlucci,” I said.
“I appreciate your honoring the arrangement I had with Jimmy Pigeon, but remember that I was told there would be no strings attached.”
“I remember.”
“On top of that, I have an idea that you had your own reasons for dealing with Slater’s punishment the way you did. It’s none of my business.”
He waited a moment, decided I had nothing to say and went on.
“That being said, I’ll do what I can. Of course, as I’m sure Joey told you, it will have to be rubber-stamped by my brother John.”
Carlucci was taking the meeting very seriously. I was hoping it was a good sign.
“I understand,” I said.
“Good. So what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted your advice, Mr. Carlucci,” I said, “your opinion.”
“Go ahead.”
“A man tries to save a friend. In doing so he makes a personal sacrifice. He puts loyalty before personal preference, personal gain, and personal safety.”
“Commendable,” said Carlucci.
“His commendable action costs him his life; the friend he tried to save also loses his life; the man responsible goes unpunished.”
“Jake, do me a favor; skip the hypothetical and tell me what you want.”
I thought I caught Joey Russo suppressing a smile.
“You made a deal with Jimmy Pigeon. If he gave you Slater, you would take care of a debt to Al Pazzo. It wasn’t Jimmy’s debt; he was trying to rescue his friend Harry Harding. Al Pazzo didn’t kill Jimmy, but the deal Jimmy made with you may have. And Pazzo did kill Harding, who had a wife and a teenage daughter. I’d like to see Pazzo pay.”