“Get out of my chair!”
“Sure, Jimmee,” Alphonso said, his irritating smile still plastered to his face, as he slowly got to his feet, where he stretched like a lazy, overweight tomcat. “I just keep it warm for you.”
“Asshole,” Jimmy said sourly, knowing that if he hadn’t always been the one on the wrong end of the stick, he might have liked the man. But, as it was --.
He quickly read the paperwork. Technical and complicated, by its sheer tedium it had to be completely legal. He wondered why lawyers could never draw up a form that was simple and easy to understand. He was pleased to read a paragraph that stated there would be no alimony and that no further payments had been written in. Grabbing a pen out of the desk’s middle drawer, Jimmy signed in all the marked places.
Alphonso stretched a hand out for the document and Jimmy quickly held it out of his reach.
“Don’t get so grabby,” Jimmy said. “I want a copy first.”
After making a copy of each side of every paper in the lengthy form, Jimmy handed the original to Alphonso, his soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law. “There, am I done with you two goons?
“You hurt me. Why you so mean? What I do to you?” His lip was out as he pouted, appearing to be genuinely offended.
“Don’t get me started,” Jimmy replied, amazed the man could be so ignorant of the pain and aggravation he’d caused. He really didn’t seem to know. Jimmy wondered if it had anything to do with the way he’d been raised. Alphonso and his brother had been old man Xavier’s enforcers from the time they were in their teens. That probably hadn’t done much to help mold them into sensitive, caring individuals. But why was he making excuses for the gangsters? He’d heard enough about being ‘creatures of their environment’ from public defenders defending gang members back when he’d been on the force. The Thug Brothers were adults and they needed to take responsibility for their actions. Problem was, he didn’t think they knew what they did was wrong. Shaking his head, he showed them the door and watched them exit as if they were kids on the way to the park, apparently happy as larks.
After he was sure they’d gone and weren’t skulking about, he took stock of his checkbook. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. He’d received the final ten thousand from Edward Hilton Saturday morning and had gone through the bank’s drive-through, depositing it on his way to the memorial. He just hadn’t entered it, in case the brothers snooped. Which they had. He congratulated himself on being prepared for that possibility. Because of this, they had no way of knowing how much was actually there. With the money he expected from Avis Clough and the Parker deposit, it should last several months. Longer if he stretched it.
Things were looking up. When he held the final divorce decree in his hands, it would be darn near perfect.
He listened to the clock ticking, thinking that it was another slow Monday. A nap called, but he decided against it, knowing it could easily become a habit and if a client did show up he didn’t want to look dopey. So, instead, he pulled out the small file he’d started on Levy Parker. He mulled it over.
The man hadn’t gone to Chicago. So where had he gone? It would be hard to trace his movements back, easier to follow his actions this morning. He checked the schedule Anita had written out. Parker was supposed to sit a booth at a convention here in town. Today was the final day of the three-day event. Jimmy hadn’t had him on surveillance over the weekend and he now wished he had. He’d been busy Saturday, but should have made time on Sunday to check out the conference and his target. There would have been more people around the center, enough that he wouldn’t have stood out. He hoped there was still a crowd. One of the reasons he hadn’t bothered with surveillance was that Anita planned to sit the booth with her husband over the weekend, something she said she did every time a new invention convention was scheduled in town. Another was he was just lazy and wanted to watch the game sprawled on his couch. He never had liked working weekends.
After changing into a dark blue sweatshirt with a prominent orange sports logo, he stuck a pair of reflective sunglasses over his eyes and pulled a baseball cap down low. He changed into a pair of scuffed tennis shoes to complete the look. A quick glance in the mirror proved satisfactory. He looked like any other sports-loving couch potato looking to kill time before the next game.
It would do.
***
Levy Parker was trapped at his booth. That was apparent by the look on his face and the way he tapped his fingers loudly on the table. The man was either bored silly, or held there against his will; it was obvious he really didn’t want to be there. He looked around at the other exhibitors, his irritation showing, and then at the small throng of people with nothing better to do than show up, and nothing better to do with the three dollars it had cost for their admittance. That was another thing that was stupid. Why did they pay to put themselves in the company of people doing their best to sucker more money out of them? It was counterintuitive. Normally it wouldn’t have bothered him as badly. But today he was already aggravated. He had a reason to be someplace else.
Suddenly he spied a familiar looking man approaching his table. Levy was a trained salesman. He understood people and he never forgot a face. He couldn’t afford to. He knew this man from somewhere. He was… who?
Jimmy wandered around the convention center, trying to look nonchalant. This was doubly difficult because someone had turned the air conditioning up high and it was cold in the auditorium. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them, finally gave up and stuck them in his pockets. Glancing across a row at the man sitting behind a table covered with colorful cleaning cloths, space age potato peelers, juicers, and other gadgets, he was dismayed to see the man staring back at him. Nuts! He’d been spotted. Feeling there was nothing he could do now, he turned to leave, planning to wait in his car and follow the man after he packed up. He only hoped his tailing would have better results and that his car wouldn’t prove recognizable, although how the man had recognized him was something he couldn’t explain.
“Danny! Hey, Danny!” Levy Parker called across the tables. The gray-haired man in khaki shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt standing next to Jimmy turned and waved. Muscles bulged through the shirt and down his arms. This man took weight lifting seriously. Jimmy stepped aside to let him pass, careful as he did so that neither the possible steroid user, nor the man at the table, could get a good look at his face. Feeling relief that he hadn’t raised suspicions, he decided to leave the building anyway. If he hurried, there was time to get a bagged lunch and eat in the car, with maybe a magazine to fill out the time. Almost getting caught was not a good thing. Being a private detective on stakeout was proving harder than he’d thought.
***
Jimmy covertly followed Parker that evening after the man loaded up his samples and drove his van straight home, not even going to the warehouse to unload. After watching for two hours from the end of the block, Jimmy was convinced that Parker had settled in for the night. If he did leave, Anita had agreed to call Jimmy’s cell phone. Hoping she wouldn’t (he was still tired and really wanted to call it a night), Jimmy went back to his office.
An hour and a half later, sitting in the dark with his feet up on the desk, he thought about what had happened. Why would he have suspected Parker of recognizing him? From what he knew, they’d never met. But he’d really thought he’d been made. He could have sworn Parker had been staring directly at him and not at that muscle-bound gentleman. It was strange.
A scrabbling noise at his door made him quickly move his feet and drop down to crouch behind the heavy mahogany desk. Were the brothers returning? Who else could it be? He heard a click and then felt movement in the air telling him the door had been opened. Cautiously peering around the side of the desk, he saw the silhouette of a man entering the room and the door being shut stealthily behind him. He was slim; it was obvious he wasn’t one of the Thug Brothers. The
man turned on a palm-sized flashlight, and in the nick of time Jimmy jerked his head back behind the desk. He watched a small circle of light scoot around the perimeter of the room and then heard near-silent footsteps as the intruder approached the file cabinet. Carefully raising his head again, he watched a folder being lifted out and a clumsy effort made to investigate its contents. The burglar was having problems holding onto the folder and flashlight, as he attempted to go through the file while wearing gloves.
Jimmy’s heart thumped as he watched the interloper tiptoe toward the desk. Presumably he needed to use it to spread out the file’s contents. Being careful not to make a noise, Jimmy pulled his gun from the harness under his jacket. He drew in a breath and held it as he waited for the man to step close.
“Hold it right there!” Jimmy yelled, jumping to his feet, his weapon pointed at the man’s chest.
“Yeek!” a small scream escaped the man as in his panic the folder went flying into the air, its contents aerially strewn to the four corners of the room. Without hesitation, he thrust his hands up in the air.
“Put your hands on your head!” Jimmy ordered, and watched as the man quickly obeyed. His face wasn’t recognizable; a shadow from the hood the man wore concealing it, giving him a threatening, sinister appearance. Even the muted light coming through the room’s single window couldn’t penetrate the gloom. Only two dark orbs that were the man’s eyes glittered there with anger, or possibly fear, as if he was a refugee from a sci-fi movie.
“Don’t move,” Jimmy growled, his eyes glued to the man. Although the intruder wasn’t a large man, Jimmy was taking no chances as he moved toward the light switch. The man remained still as a statue, not one muscle moving, afraid to even turn with him. His back was toward Jimmy when the room abruptly flooded with light. Jimmy walked back, blinking, his eyes trying to adjust to the difference, a strange anxiety growing in his chest. Reaching out hesitantly, almost timidly, with his left hand, he pulled the hood down, keeping his right firmly on the gun that was pointed directly at the center of the man’s jacket.
When he recognized the face, he was flabbergasted.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked angrily, his eyes narrowing in consternation as he stared at Levy Parker. This was the man he was supposed to have under surveillance; this was not someone that crept into his private space in an attempt to investigate him. There was something fundamentally wrong with this picture.
It was embarrassing and Jimmy couldn’t help feeling defensive. He also felt slighted, because, darn it, the man hadn’t followed the rules. And there were definite rules. The investigated didn’t investigate. A husband didn’t check out the PI his wife had hired. He wasn’t even supposed to know he was being checked out. Just what had gone wrong?
He realized suddenly that the man was glaring at him, which made him even madder. Why would Parker think he had the right to be angry? Jimmy was the one that had been mistreated.
“How long?” Levy asked. Receiving only an angry, but perplexed look from Jimmy, he asked again. “How long have you been running around with my wife?”
Jimmy looked at the man as if he was crazy. What was the fool talking about?
“I said… How long? I have a right to know.”
Suddenly it all made sense and Jimmy began to laugh. This aggravated Levy even more and he abruptly swung his fist at Jimmy’s head in a roundhouse swing that, if it had connected, would have flattened him. Fortunately for his pride and his much-abused face, Jimmy ducked.
“Stop that!” he yelled. “I’m the one with the gun, you stupid ass!”
Fear slowly joined the fury in Levy’s eyes as he realized he’d pushed his luck and that he could have been shot.
“Sit down,” Jimmy ordered, motioning to the couch. “I’ll explain everything.”
His face a mask of righteous indignation, mingled with a bit of alarm that he wasn’t successful in hiding, Levy sniffed and did as he was told.
“First, I’ve got a question for you,” Jimmy said. “And I want an honest answer. If you lie to me, I’ll find out.”
The mask showed signs of cracking. Suspicion and curiosity struggled to find their way among and through conflicting emotions, as Levy continued to glare at Jimmy. This was not in the least bit funny to Levy, and Jimmy struggled not to laugh again, knowing his amusement would further infuriate the man.
“How many women do you have on the side?” Jimmy carefully worded it this way to try to appeal to the macho side of the man. Most men are proud of their sexual prowess and though they weren’t on a friendly basis, he hoped Parker would be unable not to show off.
“You jerk! What has that got to do with the fact that you’re boppin' my wife?” Levy sputtered, sitting up straighter on the couch and puffing his chest out, looking like he would happily take a round out of Jimmy, given the chance.
“I’m not ‘boppin'’ your wife. And truly, your grammar and vocabulary are impressive. But you need to answer my question,” he said, waving the gun around, drawing attention back to the weapon. “I remind you; I am the one with the gun.”
Levy stared at the weapon for a few seconds, as he seemed to shrink in upon himself. He didn’t seem near as angry or as menacing as he had only seconds before. As he regained control of his temper, his sensibility surfaced. He didn’t want to be shot. A barrel of a gun pointed at your chest will remind you of that.
“I don’t see where that’s any of your business,” Levy answered, in a much quieter voice.
Jimmy merely waved the gun again.
After a brief hesitation, Levy continued, “There are no women ‘on the side’. I’m married, and I take my vows seriously.”
“So, you don’t have a girlfriend here or in Chicago?” Jimmy asked, wanting to be sure. He believed him, but needed to hear him say it to help verify the truth.
“I’ve never had an affair. Anita means everything to me.” Levy’s face reddened and his eyes teared. “I don’t understand why she wants you. I’ve given her everything she’s ever wanted. She knows I love her.”
Jimmy couldn’t take it. He had to laugh. When he saw Levy shut his eyes and his lip begin to quiver, he sympathetically added, “I’m sorry, really I am. I don’t know where you got that idea, though. I’m not having an affair with your wife.”
Levy opened his eyes and looked at Jimmy. Hope was mingling with the despair that had clouded his eyes.
“Seriously. We’re not running around.”
“Then what was she doing here?”
“She thinks you’re the unfaithful one.” Jimmy grinned at the bewildered man seated before him. At only five-foot-five or so, he wasn’t the big strapping hunk that most women profess to want. But it didn’t seem to matter. Jimmy knew that Anita Parker definitely cared for her husband, no matter his height or appearance.
“I don’t understand,” Levy said.
“She hired me to follow you and report back with the names of your women.”
“I don’t have any women!”
“I’m sure what you say is true,” Jimmy said soothingly. “What it boils down to is your wife loves you and she’s afraid she’s losing you.”
Levy was briefly silent as he thought this over. After a moment, he said, “What now?” He pointed at the papers strewn across the floor and then put his hands in front of him with the palms facing up. His gesture asked Jimmy what he intended to do about the breaking and entering.
Jimmy did a rapid calculation in his head. He had already decided not to call in the cops. Why press charges against a man whose worst problem was that he was confused and tortured by love? Weren’t most men?
Four days from Friday to Monday. That was one hundred dollars.
Eight hours of surveillance at the convention and, let’s say, two hours of phone investigation. That came to an even thousand. Eleven hundred total. He could live with that. Not bad for having the case solved for you
.
“I’m not calling the cops. They have better things to do,” Jimmy said to a relieved Parker. “You go home now and make up with your wife. If I were you I wouldn’t spend as much time working; spend more of it with her. Apparently, you both need it.”
Jimmy’s cell phone rang and after looking at the I.D. of the person calling, he turned it off. There was no sense giving Parker another reason to be suspicious, and if he found out it was Anita, he would be. The woman had called like she said she would, albeit a bit late. He shook his head, thinking in this case it wasn’t better late than never.
Fortunately, Levy didn’t ask or even appear curious. He simply went about cleaning up the mess he’d made. If he hadn’t been convinced of his wife’s and Jimmy’s innocence, he was after seeing what the file contained, strictly his own schedule and his picture. There was nothing in there about Anita, except a copy of her check. And if he wondered about the amount she’d paid, he didn’t mention it. Wisely, he was leaving well enough alone.
***
After Levy left, Jimmy sat a moment before heading out to the Crown Vic. He thought back to the aging, plump, middle-aged woman with the long nails and big hair. She wasn’t the same woman that Parker had married. Of course, he wasn’t the same man either. With thinning hair, stress wrinkles, and lifts in his shoes, he wasn’t someone to swoon over. But it didn’t seem to matter to either of them.
Jimmy remembered back to something his grandmother had said to him when he was just a kid. And that was that “Love goes where it’s sent; even if it’s up a pig’s ass.” Rather crude for a sweet old woman, but that didn’t stop it from being true.
Love truly is blind.
Jimmy shook his head as he locked the office door behind him. Stopping in mid act, he stared at the door, his face broke into a rueful grin, and he shook his head again. With all the people that were getting inside, he wondered if locking it wasn’t a waste of time.
Chapter 39
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Izzy said, as she opened the door. “I’ve got her out in the garden, trying to calm her down. I really didn’t know who else to call.”
A Cincinnati Cold Case Page 24