Blanc shook his head. “No. He thought she overheard a conversation.”
Weaver nodded. “Do you have any idea why Sergeant Broxton or Lieutenant Nelson are nosing around this?”
“No,” Blanc answered. “They obviously know a little bit about what is going on.”
“It has to be somebody on my team at the Spire that let this out. I barely mentioned it. I said we might have a witness, but we’d have to wait and see if she knew anything. Nothing more. The question is who would need such information.”
“Maybe the phone call might shed some light on that,” Blanc said.
Weaver nodded. “Let’s hear it.”
Blanc took his phone out of his jacket and plugged the data stick into it.
“I checked the number he called from Sarah’s phone,” Blanc said. “It is the mobile comcode of Alexander Foster. He’s an—”
“An attorney. I know of him,” Weaver said.
Blanc pressed the screen and set the phone on the table as the recording started.
“Alex, this is Charles. I am sorry for calling so late.”
“It’s not a problem, Charles. What can I do for you?”
“I mentioned the task I was to perform for the board of directors?”
“Yes.”
“Alex, I don’t like this. The board has me hiring prostitutes and strippers for the North Africans, and then negotiating with them on the issue we spoke of previously when they finish with their fun. It’s like a fraternity hazing stunt at a corporate level, except it is felonious.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I am not going through with it. What are my options?”
“You can go to the authorities, but that will not be pleasant. That will only work if you have irrefutable evidence to support your position. You may face some charges yourself since you are aware of the actions of the board. You could simply step down from your position and keep your mouth shut, provided the board would be amendable to that. If they are not...”
“You don’t think they would resort to something like... surely not.”
“You know them far better than I, Charles. I will do whatever is necessary to help you.”
“Thank you, Alex. When the North Africans conclude their business with the ladies I will tell them I cannot stay and the board can find someone else to deal with them. I will call you in the morning to discuss this further. Are you still in Havana?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry to disrupt your vacation.”
“It’s all right, Charles. Goodnight.”
“Goodbye, Alex.”
Weaver stared at the phone on the table for a few seconds, thinking. “There isn’t really much there. It’s obvious there is some wrongdoing going on, but there is no mention of specifics. Do we know who the North Africans are?”
“We have their names. Not much else,” Blanc answered. “They left Gulf City on a suborbital bound for the Bavarian League. Security Forces might have something.”
“The chief would prefer we keep the Security Forces out of police affairs. Find what you can. If we need more we’ll get it from SecFor later. The recording isn’t going to be directly useful, but it might lead us to something else. We know BluCorp is up to something. Let’s start with that. I’ll get some of my people to look into it, but it may have nothing to do with the kidnapping, just as the phone call may have no connection. Anything new on the particulars of Mr. Savan’s abduction?”
“The uniformed officers haven’t come up with anything on the car that was used in the abduction of Charles Savan,” Blanc said.
“That doesn’t surprise me, investigation is not their strong suit,” he said with disdain. “We found the skyvan used in the abduction of Mrs. Savan abandoned nine kilometers northwest of the Spire on the edge of the Baytown Refinery Zone. Forensics is working it now, but I don’t expect it will help us.”
“I’ll see if I can dig anything up about the car used in the kidnapping of Mr. Savan, Lieutenant. The uniforms might have missed something.”
“Okay, Blanc,” Weaver said. “I’d get you some help if I could dig some up. I could bring up some Midtown detectives, but they’d be little more than a hindrance to you.”
“And they’d insist on leading the local investigation,” I said. “Because there’s no way in hell they’d let a rookie tell them what to do.”
Weaver smiled. “You know how this garbage works,” he said looking at me. “Gene Dickerson said you knew your shit. I checked you out when Blanc mentioned you yesterday morning. I saw your name show up in a lot of Gene’s reports from back in the day, so I called him. He tells me I should use you because I won’t find any cop worth spit that knows the Red Light better than you. He says you’re a straight guy. Detective Blanc here feels the same way. I appreciate your help.”
I paused for a few seconds before answering. “Oh, you’re finished. I thought you’d blow a little more sunshine up my skirt, seeing how you’re a lieutenant. But if that’s the best you can do, then that’s the best you can do. I have my reasons for helping young Mr. Blanc there,” I said pointing at the kid, “and for helping you. I need Beverly Savan found alive and well so she can pay me what she owes me. I need Charles found alive and well so she has a reason to pay me what she owes me. I don’t help the police unless it helps me, okay? So before you go calling me altruistic or some shit, don’t. I barely know what the word means.”
Weaver showed a slight smile on his lips, and his eyes said he knew the deal.
Blanc opened his mouth to say something indignant, but Weaver cut him off.
“Fair enough,” he said calmly. “You have your reasons to help and that’s fine. I don’t care why you help, I only care about the safe return of Charles and Beverly Savan, and the apprehension of those that perpetrated their abduction. You are an asset I can use to accomplish my task, and the police can help you reach your goal of financial reward. It is mutually beneficial.”
Blanc didn’t look happy.
“Detective Blanc, keep working the case,” Weaver said looking to the kid. “Keep the girl with the phone off the books for the time being. She might be a useful decoy to keep whoever is leaking info from the GCPD busy with chasing phantoms instead of harming our investigation. Maybe it draws out our mystery man Sam Houston. If it looks like someone might be getting close to the girl we put word out that she knows nothing and there was no evidence worth anything on the phone. Worst case, I’ll authorize a security detail for her.”
“Is that ethical, Lieutenant? Isn’t there a chance we put her in danger?” Blanc said.
“If we do our jobs there is no danger. We keep our eyes and ears open and listen to the rumors out there. If we catch wind of someone getting close, we pull the plug. Okay?”
“All right, Lieutenant.”
The lieutenant left shortly after, as did Blanc. He was still irked with the lieutenant and probably me as well, but I guessed he’d get over it. I was getting ready to go talk to a man I knew about looking for the car used to take Savan away from Lacey’s, when a pair of suits came in my office. Expensive suits. A couple more high-end, overdressed PIs I figured. Wrong, they were attorneys.
The shysters worked for the Harrison family. One of them did all the talking, and the other one never said a word. The Harrisons went along with the Savan family in hiring Langtry to look into the kidnappings, but were unhappy with the Langtry PIs lack of progress. They were aware Beverly had retained me and knew the reason why, and for similar reasons they decided to hire me to pursue the case I was already pursuing.
“You have a certain native knowledge of this part of Gulf City, correct?” the talkative lawyer said.
“I suppose I do,” I said.
“Now, about your fee, I take it one thousand credits per day is the going rate?”
“These days it is,” I said, “plus expenses.”
“Of course. All necessary expenditures will be reimbursed.”
“Three days in advance.”
“Of course,” he said reaching into his jacket. He pulled a credcard out and slid it across my desk. The digital display on the card read, C: 3000.
I guess he expected that. Maybe I should have asked for more.
“We do expect you to cooperate with the Langtry investigators,” he said.
I knew that was coming. “Of course. I will show them the same respect and forthrightness they show me.”
“Very good,” he said. His silent partner removed a folder from his briefcase and passed it to Mr. Talkative.
“This is a very basic information packet. It may prove useful to you. You will find contact numbers for both myself and Mr. Peters,” he said gesturing to the silent guy. “We hope to hear from you soon, Mr. Johnson.”
I saw the men out, and not five minutes later, I got a call from Langtry Private Investigation Service. The shysters must have called on their way down to their car.
“Mr. Johnson, Robert Snyder here. I am with Langtry Investigations I’m to understand we’ll be working together.”
“I was under the impression we’d be cooperating with one another.”
“They are effectively the same thing, are they not?” he said.
“If that’s the case then you won’t mind if I set up shop in your office over in the Spire, or are you sending Terrence and his friends back here for a sleepover? We can work shoulder to shoulder and talk shop.”
“All right, Mr. Johnson, let’s not get started with an antagonistic relationship. We can cooperate. We’ll swap information and resources. Quid pro quo as they say.”
He was full of shit. I could smell it over the phone. “Sure, Mr. Snyder. That sounds great. What do you have?”
“Well... not a lot unfortunately. We had hoped we could use our resources and investigative ability to work leads you might have.”
Horseshit. “You don’t have a thing?”
“We have heard from a source that you know of a woman that overheard a conversation between Charles Savan and an unknown party. A conversation that very well may be relevant to the case.”
I was willing to bet his source was a cop. “Your source is wrong. I’m the guy that first came across that. There is a rumor making the rounds in High Town there might be someone who overheard something. I’ve been sniffing around, but so far it’s just rumor. You find something more concrete and I’ll look into it, but right now it’s nothing.”
“Well, okay. Thanks for clearing that one up,” Snyder said. “Stay in touch, Mr. Johnson. We look forward to working with you.”
He didn’t sound convinced. I was willing to bet they would keep looking into the issue.
“Sure, Mr. Snyder,” I said before hanging up.
I got the hell out of my office in a hurry. I was worried some more suits might stop by or call. I needed a break from that crap.
I headed for a car lot owned by a man that might be able to help track down the sedan that was in front of Lacey’s the night Mr. Savan got nabbed.
Preston’s Pre-owned was a used vehicle lot that sat on the fuzzy border dividing the pink zone from the Red Light. Some of the vehicles Preston’s sold were what he liked to call “grey market.” I’d dealt with the guy on a few occasions working vehicle recovery cases. He was a little shady, but in a reliable and predictable way.
I walked into his office without knocking and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Johnson, come in, sit down. No need to knock. What do you need?” he said giving me a dirty look.
“I’d like you to ask around about a certain grey luxury sedan. I need some information.”
“A grey sedan, huh? You looking to buy? I can get you a good deal.”
“Nope. Looking to see if a big grey sedan showed up in your or any of your fellow dealers inventories. Legit, grey, or black market. Probably Spire registration.”
“You working another vehicle recovery? I heard you was all buddy, buddy with the cops lately. I’m thinking you might not be a guy I should be talking with,” he said.
“I don’t care about recovering the car. I want to know who the registrant is. I figured you were a guy that might help, but if not, maybe a rumor gets out that you know something about this certain grey sedan,” I said with a smile. “Maybe the cops hear this rumor and ask me about you. Maybe I tell them you’re the kind of guy that knows about such things. Maybe the cops pay you a visit. Maybe they bring in Gulf City tax auditors to look at your books.”
“You’d do that?” He squinted his eyes at me. “I don’t think you would.”
“No, Preston, I said maybe that happens. There’s a lot of maybe’s that can happen. Like maybe you do me a favor and find the car I’m looking for and maybe I pay you a research fee or something.”
“Let’s go with the last maybe, Johnson. I’ll ask around, but if the vehicle was real hot, they’d hide it or destroy it. I’ll check the junk yards and recyclers and see if anything pops up.”
“See, that’s why I come to an expert like you, Preston.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t forget my creds if I come up with something.”
I walked back to my office and as I got near the steps to my building there was a pair of very nice legs with running shoes on the bottoms of them sticking out onto the side walk. As I came around one of the plascrete walls that ran up each side of the steps I found the legs belonged to Lacey Danns.
“I take it we’re going to lunch,” I said.
“That’s right. I was afraid you might be ducking me. A deal is a deal. Where are we going?”
“The Skyline. The lunch rush is past.”
I figured she might think I was cheap or too broke to afford better, but she said she liked the place. Besides, we were neither one dressed up.
Lunch wasn’t so bad. Lacey had good table manners and could hold up her end of the conversation, plus she was easy on the eyes. She ordered pie for dessert. Apple, straight, no ice cream, no cheese. She said to me, “Pie should be able to stand on its own crust.”
A woman who doesn’t like pie can’t be trusted, so I guessed she wouldn’t spill about when I learned of Mr. Savan’s kidnapping. Damn it. I was sure she had at least some deficiencies, but right then the only one I see was her shitty taste in men. I could see she was going to be a serious complication.
I walked back to my office after escorting Lacey to her club and found Detective Blanc was waiting in the hall outside my door. He looked tired.
“Hey, Rick. I found out York is still in Gulf City.”
“No shit, where is he?” I asked as I unlocked my door.
“Somewhere in the Spire I think. I found him on some security video. I called Weaver about it and he has a couple of detectives trying to find him,” Blanc said as we went inside.
“Good work.”
“He spends a lot of time in North Africa overseeing jobs for BluCorp. Does that tie in with the men at Lacey’s?”
“I doubt it’s a coincidence, but I don’t know if it helps us find the Savans. It would be nice if we knew what significance North Africa has to BluCorp.”
“Maybe we’ll turn up something. You want to help me track down the grey sedan?”
“Already on it. I got a guy that’s knowledgeable about such matters. He’s looking into it.”
Blanc sighed. “Well that shoots down my plan to try and stay awake this afternoon. I thought we might walk all over the Red Light and I might not fall asleep.”
That’s just one of the reasons stakeouts stink. Once all the new wore off the job, Blanc would figure that out.
“You could take a nap, then we can go ask around some of the places near Lacey’s. Maybe somebody that saw something might talk.”
“Well, I can’t take a nap on duty, but maybe a cup of your coffee and a splash of water on my face will do the trick. Then we’ll go.”
“I’ll make some joe. Bathroom’s right there,” I said pointing. “Don’t drink the water if it’s brown.”
The kid moved that way and
said, “I’ve figured out you’re full of shit, Rick.”
I laughed. “It took you this long?”
He stopped in the doorway. “Yes. I figured out your tough guy routine is at least half bullshit. I saw that look Weaver gave you when you laid that ‘I’m not altruistic’ jazz on him. You gave him the same look when he gave you the crap about you being an asset. You’re both just keeping up appearances. That’s what I think. I was too mad to see it then.”
“You might be right,” I said.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“I might just be keeping up appearances.”
The kid laughed and flipped me off before he closed the door to the bathroom.
About thirty seconds later about a hundred kilos of shit on a 170 centimeter frame walked through my door. Sergeant Henry Bartram, Detective, Gulf City Police Department.
“Johnson! I got some questions for you,” the fat sack of ugly said as he stomped into my office.
“Let’s make this simple. The answer to each of them is ‘fuck you’,” I replied.
He ignored me. We stood a step apart behind the chair in front of my desk.
“You’re interfering with a case. I was asked to get some answers and I’ll get them or I’ll run you in, dickhead.”
“What case are you talking about, chubs?”
“Savan. You got the name of a witness, some whore that knows something important. Spill it.”
“Which case are you working? Charles or Beverly?”
“What do you mean?” he said with a confused look on his mug.
Bartram was not the type that ever got called intelligent. Violent, psychopath, crooked, and descriptions like that got thrown around when his name popped up in conversation, but never did anyone ever call him intelligent.
“I mean you aren’t working those cases, so somebody sent you here. Who, errand boy?”
I figured it was either cops working their own angle, the fake cop Sam Houston, or Langtry. Seeing how fast the Spire folks liked to work, my money was on Langtry.
My theory was simple: the dicks at Langtry look for records of R.R. Johnson, P.I. and find I have a past with one H. Bartram, GCPD. They hire him as an attack dog to get me to spill what I know.
The Lowdown in High Town: An R.R. Johnson Novel Page 8