“How’d he get in touch? Mrs. Danby said your phone’s been disconnected.”
“Danby moved me to an apartment over on Fremont. He has the number.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Something doesn’t add up.”
“What’s the problem?” Michael asked. “I’ll give the necklace to Danby as soon as he calls. He gets what he wants, and I’m off the hook. Everybody’s happy.”
“Everybody but his wife,” I said. “And do you really think Danby’s gonna forget you slept with her? Even if you swear you’ll never talk, he’ll never trust you.”
Michael’s face paled. “What am I gonna do?”
“I’d tell you to run, but he’d just hunt you down. Let me think about it.” I pulled a notepad and pen from my coat pocket. “Give me your address and phone number.”
Michael rattled off the numbers. “What if Danby calls?”
“Stall him.”
The waitress breezed by and left our checks. I dropped some of Nora Danby’s money on the table. “My treat.”
We walked outside, and Michael grabbed my arm. “I know we’ve had our differences, but I really appreciate you helping me.”
* * *
Back at my office, I found a man sitting behind my desk. He wore his hair slicked back off his forehead, and a pencil-thin moustache decorated his upper lip. I’d never seen him before. For that matter, I didn’t recognize the thick-necked goon standing behind my office door, either. But I was familiar with the feel of a gun pressed against my back. The man behind the desk motioned me forward.
“Have a seat, Mr. Hunter.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’ve been sitting all morning.”
Moustache looked past my shoulder and nodded. His partner spun me around and slammed his fist into my gut. I dropped to my knees. My eyes watered, and I tried not to throw up. Muscles grabbed the back of my coat and hoisted me off the floor like I was a bag of dirty laundry. He dumped me into the chair Nora Danby had used.
Moustache stood and walked around my desk. “I’m only gonna say this once. Give Mrs. Danby her money back. Tell her you’ve changed your mind.”
I squinted at him. “Who?”
Moustache sighed. Muscles punched me, and I spilled out of the chair onto the floor. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. Moustache squatted beside me. “Stay away from Mrs. Danby. Understand?” I grunted, and he took that for a yes. “Good. Don’t bother getting up. We’ll see ourselves out.”
The door closed. I sprawled on the floor and let the minutes tick by. The right side of my head felt numb. It hurt to breathe, and my jaw clicked when I opened my mouth. Finally, I climbed to my feet and staggered to my desk. I pulled out the bottle of whiskey I kept in the bottom desk drawer and took a swig. The booze lit up my mouth like a Fourth of July firework. Being a good patriot, I took another pull.
I should’ve seen this coming. Nora Danby warned me that none of the other PIs she’d contacted had taken her case. No doubt they’d received the same warning I had.
Grant Danby expected to scare me off. But after facing down hundreds of battle-hardened Chinese during the war, I didn’t frighten that easily. It’d take more than a couple of thugs to intimidate me. I sealed the whiskey bottle and dialed Michael’s number. He answered on the third ring.
“How friendly did you get with Danby’s mistress?” I asked.
I heard him smile. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“Just tell me if she’d be happy to hear from you.”
A note of caution crept into his voice. “Probably, but I’m not sure that’d be a good idea.”
“Trust me, little brother; I’ve got a plan.”
* * *
An hour later, I was on the road to Sacramento with Nora Danby’s necklace in my pocket and my camera equipment stowed in the trunk. Michael had called Eve Sheridan, Grant Danby’s mistress, and she’d agreed to meet me for late-afternoon drinks. She’d provided the directions to a quiet bar, and I found her sipping a martini in a booth in the back. It was easy to see why Grant Danby fell for her: she resembled Nora Danby down to the same dark hair and killer curves.
“What happened to your face?”
“I had an accident.”
“You should be more careful.”
The waitress brought my drink, and I pitched Sheridan my plan. I’d rehearsed it on the way dawn and it had sounded convincing to me at the time. But as I tried to sell it, it sounded like a pipe-dream.
After I finished, Sheridan sipped her martini. “Why should I help you?”
“I want to keep my brother in one piece.”
“Your brother isn’t very bright,” Sheridan said. “But he’s got that lost-puppy kind of charm. It makes women want to mother him.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “All you want are some pictures, right?”
“You won’t even know I’m there.”
“What’s in it for me?”
From the start, I’d realized that Sheridan would expect something for her efforts. I’d come up with half a dozen options, but now that I’d met her, I picked the most pragmatic one. “I’ll pay you a thousand bucks.”
“Grant gives me that much each month to spend on whatever I want.”
My chest tightened. Unless I convinced her to betray Danby, Moustache and Muscles would pay me a return visit. “Okay, two thousand.”
She laughed. “You should see the look on your face. Relax. I’ll do it for free.”
I didn’t trust her; I wasn’t that good a salesman. “Why?”
“Danby’s a creep. He’s boring, narcissistic, and lousy in the sack. Plus, he’s never going to leave his wife. I’ve seen the end of this movie and I prefer not to be a cliché.”
“If Danby finds out you helped me, it could get ugly.”
Sheridan arched an eyebrow. “I can take care of myself. Besides, I’ve had my eye on one of the finance committee members. He sniffs around whenever Grant’s out of town. Last week, he told me he knew several Hollywood producers.” She patted my hand. “I’ll be fine.”
I was home by one the next day. After returning the necklace to Michael, I filled him in, then drove to my office. In my job, I took a lot of pictures so I’d purchased some used equipment and converted the attached bathroom into a serviceable darkroom. I spent the next few hours souping and printing the film I’d shot in Sacramento. Finally, I hung up the last print and decided to splurge on a late supper. Before I could leave, my phone rang.
“Hunter Investigations.”
“Danby just called,” Michael said. “He told me to bring the necklace to his house tomorrow night at eight.”
I glanced toward my darkroom. “Better not be late.”
* * *
Sleep wouldn’t come. As I tossed and turned, my mind refused to shut off. At first, I blamed it on nerves. After all, if things went as planned, I would make enemies of two very powerful men. Not the smartest thing in the world.
But it was more than that. Something had bothered me ever since my conversation with Michael in the diner. Now, it was back, nagging me like a sore tooth. I closed my eyes and as I replayed our meeting one more time, it hit me.
I turned on the bedside lamp and made a few phone calls. Despite being cursed for the late hour, I got the information I needed. I hung up and slept like a baby.
In the morning, after breakfast, I drove to the office, typed a letter, and stuffed it into a manila envelope along with four of the photos I’d printed the day before. I shuffled downstairs and crossed the street to the office of a lawyer who sent some business my way. After I explained what I wanted, he looked at me through a swirl of cigar smoke.
“You expecting trouble?”
I handed him the envelope. “Always.”
Back in my building, I caught a trace of Nora Danby’s perfume on my way upstairs. It was as surprising as a breath of fresh air in a morgue. I stepped into my office, and she turned away from the window.
“I’ve been trying to get hold o
f you. Where have you been?”
“Out doing my job.”
She marched across the room, her high heels clicking on the linoleum. She winced when she saw my face. “Are you all right?”
“Never better.”
“Did you find Paul? Did he have my necklace?”
“Yes to both.”
“Thank God,” she said. “Well, where is it?”
“He still has it.”
“What? You were supposed to return it to me.”
“He’s bringing it to your house, tonight.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. Grant’s back from Sacramento. His father’s coming over tonight to talk politics. You’ve got to tell Paul to stay away.”
“Don’t worry; he’ll be fine.”
She moved close enough for me to see the fine lines around her eyes. “Do you want more money? Is that it?”
“Don’t insult me. You asked me to find Paul Taylor and I did. You wanted your necklace back, and you’ll get it back.”
Her dark brown eyes glistened with tears. “But not like this. If Paul shows up with the necklace, Grant will know I had an affair. I’ll never be able to leave him.”
I cupped her chin and it took every ounce of self-control I had to not kiss her full red lips. Instead, I thumbed away the tears that spilled onto her cheeks. “Trust me. After tonight, you’ll have your necklace and your freedom, too.”
She stepped back. “But Grant will—”
I touched her lips, silencing her. “Trust me.”
She sighed. “I don’t have much choice.” I helped her on with her coat, and she chastely kissed my cheek. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
That made two of us.
* * *
I arrived at Michael’s apartment at twenty after seven. He had on a robe, and his hair was wet as though he’d just taken a shower. His breath smelled of bourbon.
“Why aren’t you ready?” I asked. “We don’t want to be late.”
“I can’t,” he replied. “I don’t want to see the look on her face when she finds out.”
“You should’ve thought about that a long time ago.”
Michael massaged his forehead. “I know, but I’m not as brave as you.”
“Danby’s expecting you. He doesn’t know me from Adam.”
“Tell him you have the necklace. He’ll talk to you.”
“What about our plan?” I asked.
He wiped the sweat from his upper lip. “You don’t need me for that. You’ve got the photos.”
Michael was right; I didn’t need him to confront Danby. But deep down, I’d hoped he’d take responsibility for his actions and face the music. But it wasn’t the first time my brother had disappointed me.
“Give me the necklace.”
Michael pulled a black, velvet-covered case from the pocket of his robe. I opened it, and the diamonds sparkled in the muted light.
“You’d better stay at my place, tonight,” I said. “In case Danby’s a sore loser.”
Michael nodded. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
I handed him a house key. “Don’t get too comfortable; it’s just for one night.”
* * *
Moustache answered Danby’s front door. He didn’t look happy to see me. The feeling was mutual. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m here to see your boss. Tell him it’s about the necklace.”
Those were the magic words. Moustache escorted me to a wood-paneled den. A leather sofa and matching chairs huddled in front of the fire blazing in the fireplace. Leather-bound books lined the bookcases on either side. A pair of crossed cavalry sabers hung above the fireplace. All-in-all, the perfect room for cutting deals and plotting political futures.
Five minutes later, two men entered the room. I recognized Grant Danby from his pictures. Howard Danby was thirty pounds heavier and his hair held more gray, but there was no doubt of the lineage. Both men had the same broad forehead, dark eyes, and squared chin, and both men carried an air of privilege about them. Fitzgerald was right: the rich are different.
Grant Danby cut to the chase. “Where’s Taylor?”
“Forget him,” I said. “You’re dealing with me, now.”
Howard Danby frowned. “And just who are you?”
“David Hunter. I’m a private investigator.” I pulled the jewelry case from my inside coat pocket. “Your son’s wife hired me to return this to her.”
The elder Danby looked at his son. “What’s going on?”
“It’s simple,” I said. “Your daughter-in-law wanted a divorce, but that could wreck your son’s political future.”
Howard Danby puffed out his chest. “My son has a vision for this country. He can offer—”
“Save it.” I said. “Your son threatened to take the kids away to keep her in line. But in case that didn’t work, he hired Paul Taylor to seduce her.” I held up the jewelry case. “Taylor stole this necklace to prove the affair. He was supposed to bring it here, tonight, and confess. After that, Nora would be forced to stay.”
Grant Danby clapped—three loud smacks. “That’s quite a story, Mr. Hunter. Have you thought of working in Hollywood?”
I opened the case and set it on an end table. “This necklace isn’t fiction. I found Taylor, and he’ll back me up.”
“And you believe the word of a thief?” Grant Danby asked.
“More than yours,” I said.
Howard Danby peered down his nose at me. “And why is that?”
“He’s my brother.”
The father and son exchanged glances. The ticking of the clock on the mantle filled the silence. Finally, Grant Danby looked at me. “What do you want?”
“Divorce your wife. She gets the kids, and you make sure they have a good life.”
“You don’t ask for much, do you? Anything else?”
“Stay away from my brother.”
A thin smile creased Grant Danby’s face. He stepped over to the end table and picked up the jewelry case. “Why should I? Now that I have this, you’ve lost your bargaining chip.”
I pulled an envelope from my inside coat pocket and handed it to him. “Don’t bet on it.”
He opened the envelope and shuffled through the photographs. “Where’d you get these?”
“I took them the night before last in Sacramento. Recognize the necklace?”
The color drained from Grant Danby’s face. “That’s impossible. I didn’t have the necklace.”
I pointed to the nightstand beside Eve Sheridan’s bed, the bed she was laying in with Grant Danby. “The camera doesn’t lie.”
Howard Danby grabbed the photos. His jaw muscles bulged as he studied them. When he finished, he shoved the pictures in his son’s face. “Who is she?”
“Nobody. Just someone I met a few months ago.”
The elder Danby slapped his son. “You idiot. You’re sleeping with some slut, and this guy’s got the pictures to prove it. What the hell were you thinking?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He threw the pictures into the fire. The flames licked their edges, curling the photos before they disappeared into charred ash.
“I still have the negatives,” I said. “I can always print more.”
Howard Danby glared at me. “A divorce will ruin my son’s career.”
“People get divorced all the time. The election’s two years away. If he does it now, quietly, there’s plenty of time for the good citizens of California to forget all about it.”
Howard Danby stared at the fire for a few moments. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t,” I said. “I could’ve taken these to the press, but I didn’t. I told you what I want. Your son does that and we’re square.” I paused. “But if Mrs. Danby doesn’t get her divorce—or if something happens to my brother—the deal’s off and the press gets the photos.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” Grant Danby said. “There’s no—”
“Shut up,” Howard D
anby said. He looked at me. “Okay, you’ve got a deal.”
I nodded. “A pleasure doing business with you.”
I turned to leave, but Grant Danby stepped in front of me. “Why’re you doing this?”
“Because your wife deserves to be happy.”
“What about your brother?” he sneered. “He’s nothing but a thief and a two-bit gigolo.”
“Maybe, but he’s the only brother I have.”
* * *
The weeks passed and winter gave way to spring. I didn’t read anything in the papers about the Danbys’s divorce, but I heard through the grapevine that it happened. Every day, I checked my mail, but it became apparent that Nora Danby had stiffed me on the remaining two grand she’d promised. I thought about sending Grant Danby a bill but decided not to push my luck. I didn’t know what bothered me more: the loss of the cash or wanting to see her again.
Michael had stayed with me the night I confronted the Danbys and then he dropped out of sight. He’d even stopped eating at the diner. I started to worry the Danbys had reneged on their promise, but last week, I received a postcard from Puerto Vallarta. “Wish you were here,” was all he wrote.
Today, after lunch, I sat at my desk, listening to the radio. A cool breeze slipped in through the open window along with muffled sounds from the street below. The office door opened, and there she was. The sleeveless, cream-colored dress she wore contrasted nicely with her tanned arms. She peeled off her sunglasses.
“Hello, David.”
“Hello, Nora. You’re looking good.”
She smiled, crossed the room, and sat in the same chair she’d occupied months before. “Being single agrees with me. And I have you to thank for that.”
“Just doing my job.”
“And speaking of which,” she said. “Here’s the money I owe you.” She pulled an envelope from her purse and placed it on my desk. I didn’t pick it up. The seconds ticked by, and her smile deepened. “Go ahead; take it. You earned it.”
Her eyes sparkled as she watched me step from behind my desk. I let my gaze roam over her. I wanted to always remember this moment and not what I had to do.
“Was it my brother’s idea to hire me?”
She blinked, and the smile faded from her lips. “What do you mean? I found your name in the phone book after none of the other investigators would help me.”
The Malfeasance Occasional Page 8