Casey's Slip

by Richard L. Wren

“Is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I just have a question to ask.”

  “Okay, shoot.” I had no idea what I’d done.

  “Do you like me?”

  “Is that your question?”

  “It’s part of it.”

  “Well, of course I like you. In fact I really like you!”

  “Okay. I don’t know how much longer this chase will last and I’m afraid it’ll be over soon and we might not see each other anymore. There, I’ve said it.”

  “We’ll finish this investigation and we won’t see each other anymore. That’s what you were nervous about saying?” I kidded her.

  “No you idiot. It’s that I don’t want that to happen.”

  “You don’t want the investigation to end?”

  “Casey, if you don’t quit fooling around I’m going to throw my drink in your face.”

  “Okay, okay. Don’t throw your drink. Truth is I’ve been thinking the same thing. I don’t want to not see you anymore either.”

  Listening to myself I thought, is a double negative a positive?

  Out loud I said, “Are we too old to go steady?”

  She leaned across the table to give me a kiss. I leaned over to receive her kiss and knocked my drink over.

  We both started laughing and grabbed napkins to mop up my spilled Cosmo. “Just shows what a cosmopolitan kinda’ guy I am,” I couldn’t help saying.

  Just then Smitty and the gang showed up, and of course wanted to know what we were laughing about. The fact that we were laughing over my spilled drink got nothing but stares. They couldn’t imagine what was so funny. Maybe you just had to be there.

  The restaurant was French and the guys were a little dubious. So when Josie explained thatpommes fritesmeant French fries and that they could have them with any entrée they wanted, they were happy. All the guys, Smitty included, ordered steak and thepommes frites – each trying to outdo the rest in butchering the pronunciation of the words. Josie ordered a chicken dish for each of us, putting her high school French to work. Smitty conferred with the waiter and ordered a very nice California wine to go with the meal.

  And when everyone was finished, Smitty announced that he wasn’t about to leave a French restaurant without having a real French dessert. He called the waiter back and asked him if they had any real authentic French desserts. After registering the appropriate shock at the outrageous question, the waiter assured him that,mais oui, they did indeed have authentic French desserts and recommended thecrêpes suzette. Smitty said he’d heard of them.

  “They have liquor in them, right?”

  When the waiter advised him that,oui, they did, he ordered them for all of us.

  I’d had them before but these were definitely the real deal. By the time we finished thecrêpes and had coffee, we were all complaining of being stuffed. I’d seen these guys eat a lot more than this at one sitting. Must have been the richness of the food.

  I guess Little George knew the owner and had called ahead. As we were leaving he personally thanked us and asked us about the two motorcycle guys parked outside the front door. Our protection.

  Back at the hotel, the guys headed to there rooms. Josie and I sat in the lobby, had black Russians and talked for an hour or so. Mostly we compared notes about where we’d been, what we thought about, our families, and a lot of trivia.

  In the elevator, going up to our rooms, the thought crossed my mind that maybe this was the night we could use just one bedroom for the two of us. Nah. The thought of Smitty catching us nipped that idea in the bud.

  Sure enough, next morning, Smitty was banging on our doors first thing. He would have caught us in flagrante delicto, or fragrant delicto or whatever that is. For sure.

  “Get up, get up. Time for a quick breakfast and get out of here quick! Little George’s up and waiting for us. I need to talk to his crew before they go out.”

  Little George had his group assembled when we got there.

  “Look guys.” Smitty had their immediate attention. I guess his reputation preceded him.

  “This ain’t gonna be easy. All the gals you’re gonna be asking about should be at work by now. You need to canvas all the neighbors. Assure them that these questions are strictly routine. I’ve got a supply of clip boards and papers to make you look official. Ask if they keep regular hours. Ask if they go away on weekends. If they’re married, ask about their husbands. Ask if they have a new car, or more than one. Ask if they own a boat, a vacation home, or other property they know about. If she’s single, ask if she has a boyfriend. Find out where they shop and go interview the shop keepers. And for God’s sake, clean up your English.”

  “That’s gonna take all day, Smitty,” one of them complained. “How we’re supposed to get people to answer all them questions beats me.”

  “I told you it wasn’t gonna be easy. Remember, act like you’re government employees. Be friendly and casual. It’s hush, hush because she’s being considered for a big promotion and she doesn’t even know she’s in the running. Wear a suit or slacks and a jacket. Look the part. Keep us in touch. If you get anything at all, call us. If we get a good lead, we’ll call the rest of you off. So – just do it, okay?”

  The guys picked up their target names and addresses, left in the cars Little George had rented and went home to get into suits. I figured they’d look okay. They’d been picked because they could pass as a government employee – no beards, no ponytails. They’d look like genuine ordinary guys once they had suits on.

  “Nothing to do now but wait,” said Little George. “Can’t leave. Have to be here to monitor the phones and coordinate this show.”

  “Supposing this doesn’t work what then?” Gus asked.

  “Jesus, I don’t know,” Smitty admitted, then tossed it off to me. “Maybe Casey’ll come up with another idea. What about that, Casey?

  I’d been so invested in Smitty’s plan; I hadn’t considered thinking up an alternative. I told Smitty that, told him I’d get on it right away, then dropped myself on a couch and closed my eyes.

  Then Gus again. “But supposing it does work. What then?”

  “Do Ihave to think of everything?” I heard Smitty answer. “If we find her, Casey’ll think of something. Right, Casey?”

  CHAPTER 68

  Whatwouldwe do if we found her? We couldn’t torture her. We had to use finesse. Or maybe bribery? How could we get information out of her?

  Drawing a blank, I thought two heads were better than one and decided to enlist Gus’s help.

  “Gus, my man,” I said heartily, throwing an arm around his shoulder, “I Need your help.”

  Gus laughed. “Got your tail in a bind?”

  “”Yeah, Smitty’s put it there— again.”

  “Well, let’s grab us some coffee, find somewhere quiet and see what we can come up with.”

  We found an unused bedroom with a pair of comfortable-looking chairs. “Welcome to my office,” Gus said and ushered me in.

  “So,” I said, “how do we get information out of this lady presuming we find her.”

  “I won’t bullshit you, Casey. I have no idea.”

  “Okay. Let’s just brainstorm it a little. We’ll know she’s involved in something illegal. Something she could lose her job over. That’d be leverage, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Plus there’s blackmail and murder involved. Criminal activities I bet she doesn’t have the faintest idea about.”

  “Right, but we don’t want her in jail, we want her to talk.”

  “So who could offer her something worth while, or scare her enough to make her talk?”

  “I’ve no idea. Who scares you?” Gus threw the question back at me.

  “Well, the FBI, but we sure can’t go passing ourselves off as FBI. The IRS?”

  Gus thought about that one. “You know that might work,” he said. “The IRS can threaten and they can offer settlements. What d’ya think? Assuming she’s been getting lots of extra money, I bet she
hasn’t been reporting it. They could threaten her with jail time for falsifying her tax records, then offer her immunity if she owned up about her boss.”

  “Great, how do we get the IRS to do that for us?”

  “We don’t. We don’t need the IRS to actually do it. We just need this gal to believe it’s the IRS she’s dealing with. Right?”

  “I guess, but I still don’t…”

  “Let me finish. Here’s what I’m thinkin,” Gus said.

  “I saw this movie where a guy conned his way into an IRS building, appropriated an office and used it to fleece thousands of bucks out of small business owners. We could use the same idea on her. Borrow an office in the IRS building and convince her she’s in tax trouble unless she spills the beans on her connection.”

  “You really think we could do that?”

  “I don’t know, but it worked in the movie.”

  We decided to talk it over with Smitty. He was less than impressed. Even after hearing the whole movie described to him. He told us to find something better.

  “Movies are movies. Nobody would fall for that in real life,” was his comment.

  We both thought it might work, in spite of him and kept working on the idea.

  It was now noon and we hadn’t heard anything back from the nine guys out working. Smitty had told them to keep trying and if they got to the point where they were absolutely sure they were wasting their time, they should go help one of the other guys. Half a day and Smitty was getting frustrated.

  Finally, about five thirty, we got something positive. It was about the lady that worked in the AG’s office but spent lots of time in at the lieutenant governor’s office.

  “Most of her neighbors work,” this guy reported. “I had to wait till they got home to interview them. Once I was able to get to them, the rest was easy. Just about all of them were more than happy to gossip about her. She isn’t friendly with any of them and nobody really knows her, but they certainly watch her.”

  “So what’d you learn?”

  “Want me to come in and tell you there?”

  “No, give me an idea now,” Smitty said. Again the call was on speaker phone, a technology I was coming to really appreciate. “If it’s what we’re looking for, we may call the rest of the guys in.”

  “Okay, here’s what I found. She’s got a brand new Jaguar in the garage, which costs a hell of a lot more than she should be able to afford. She goes on expensive week-end trips and very expensive vacations. She loves to brag about where she’s been. She’s a regular weekend jet-setter– Vegas, even Hawaii. Has a mysterious boyfriend who drives a limo-like black sedan and comes by himself, always after dark. The capper? One neighbor had the license number of the black sedan. I’ll bring it in with me. Is that enough?”

  “Wow, perfect! That’s our gal. Come on in. I’m gonna call the rest of the guys in.”

  Smitty hung up, then turned to the rest of us. “Did you hear that, guys? It’s her. I know it’s her. We got our break.” Which was good for everybody except Gus and me. Smitty hadn’t like our idea of what to do next, and we didn’t have another one.

  “Now what do we do, Gus?” I said, turning to him. “You got another idea?”

  “I’m trying to remember another movie.”

  “You know, maybe we gave Smitty too much information. I’m beginning to think your idea might work – at least I can’t think of anything else. Suppose we slim your idea down to just something that might work with this gal. Forget the deluxe, fancy con. All we need is to get her in and talk to her.”

  “Well damn, – sure! I like it! Let’s get at it. Back to square one. Let’s assume that we’ll want to start on the plan by tomorrow. We’ve got time tonight to perfect and present Plan B – and make Smitty love it.”

  “And I think I’ve got the perfect closer for the whole idea,” I said confidently.

  “And what’s that?”

  “You. You volunteer to be the con man. You know the plan, you’ve got the maturity and presence to pull it off, and nobody up here knows you. And Smitty trusts your judgment.”

  He tried to object, but couldn’t resist my logic. Let’s face it – it appealed to the ham in him.

  We spent the next hour fine-tuning Plan B. Got rid of just about all the hoopla from the movie. Simplified the heck out of it. All we needed, really, was to get our hands on a room at the IRS office, convince her that she had to meet with us and get her to admit everything.

  Back in the front room, the guy with all the information on our suspect lady was back. He and Little George and Smitty were reviewing every thing he’d learned. The more they heard, the more they were sure they’d found the key to landing Carpenter’s boss.

  Little George asked the sixty-four thousand dollar question:

  “How are you gonna get your hands on her and get the information out of her?

  “Gus and Casey have a great plan,” Smitty said without hesitation. “It’s simple, straightforward and virtually foolproof! Gus, Casey, come over here and outline that new plan you developed.”

  Huh? What Gus and Casey was he talking about? What great plan? ‘Simple’? ‘Straight forward’? ‘Foolproof’? Last I heard he didn’t like our plan.

  CHAPTER 69

  So we outlined Plan B. It was almost exactly the same as Plan A, which Smitty had dismissively rejected. It was met with his instant approval. Particularly when they found out that Gus was gonna be the star.

  “The biggest problem I see is the IRS office,” I told them. “Somehow we have to find out the layout and if there’s a room we can use. Anybody know anything about the IRS office here?”

  Little George answered. “Well, it’s huge. Five floors. The only time I was ever there was to the third floor on my personal taxes. The third floor was a huge room of cubicles. The lady I had to see was in one of the cubicles. There might have been offices at the back of the room but I’m not sure.”

  Smitty surprised me again.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I think I know a way. Let’s get some food in us and a good night’s sleep. I’ll need you guys up and at ’em bright and early in the morning. Oh yeah, is there a Radio Shack or one of them spy stores anywhere in Sacramento?”

  Once again, Little George to the rescue, “Yeah, there’s an electronics store about a mile from here. Why?”

  “Tell you in the morning. In the meantime, find us a good restaurant. If you can,” Smitty challenged.

  “If I can?If I can? I’ll bet I can find you the best Italian food you ever had, not ten minutes from here.”

  The Sacramento guys grinned like they hoped Smitty’d take the bet, but he just put on a matching grin and said, “Let’s go, drinks are on me.”

  A spy store? Now what was Smitty up to?

  Little George said, “Ain’t you forgetting something?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your sniper. I’m sending your two bodyguards over first to check out the area. Can’t have you murdered on my watch.”

  Smitty responded, “Gee, thanks buddy. You’re all heart.”

  Everybody laughed, but we still waited for the two guys to call and say the coast was clear.

  Little George was right. The restaurant, called simply “Joe’s,” was great. It was a full-menu, real Italian ristorante. They had a good-sized private dining room on one side, meant for up to maybe three dozen or so. Little George headed for it as if he owned the joint. The owner followed him.

  “About fifteen of us tonight, Joe,” he told our host. “Send your bar girl in while you’re setting up the tables. This tall old guy,” he said, pointing at Smitty,”is buying.”

  The party was on. Drinks flowed. Trays of salami, anchovies, olives, marinated peppers, cheeses and nuts appeared. Waiters bustled around. Tables were set, chairs brought in. Candles were placed and lit. Wine was served, and lots of it.

  To the best of my knowledge, nobody ever ordered anything. Huge bowls of spaghetti were placed on each table. More
wine was poured. Loaves of garlic bread came and went. It was a family style feast.

  At one point, Smitty stood up and said, “Little George, I’m sure as hell glad I didn’t take you up on that bet. I give this meal my ‘Damn Good’ seal of approval. Even if I did have to bribe you with that first round of drinks.”

  “First round? I thought you said you were gonna buy all the drinks?”

  Laughter all around. It was a joyous, happy group of bikers enjoying that dinner.

  After dinner and drinking was done, after checking with the two guys on guard duty and getting an all clear, we headed back to our hotel. On the way, Smitty told me he wanted me to reconnoiter the IRS offices tomorrow.

  “And how am I gonna do that?”

  “Believe it or not, you’re gonna revert to what you really are.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “An innocent looking, fairly young babe-in-the-woods as far as taxes go, sailor boy.”

  “I’m not sure I can pull that off any more, after being exposed to you and your gang of ruffians so long.”

  “C’mon, you’ll love it. Besides it’s the only way we can find the room we’re gonna need. Don’t forget, this whole thing’s your idea.”

  “Your wish is my command, m’lord,” I said with a slight bow.

  As I said it, I was thinking how our rather amazing relationship had progressed. A week ago he would have told me to do it and to shut up. Now I could banter with him.

  “Besides, if I get what I want from the electronics store tomorrow, you’re gonna have a ball using it.” Now he had me.

  On that note we broke up and turned in for the night.

  Next morning, Smitty had us all paged in our rooms to make sure we were up bright and early and on our way.

  Smitty had arranged for us to park our car in the private hotel parking lot, out of deference to our sniper worry and Little George still had two of his guys around somewhere. In a short time we were back at Little George’s place.

  Smitty’s greeting to Little George: “Did you find out what time that electronics store opens?”

  “Good morning to you too, Smitty! Yeah, it’s open now.”