Blue Goodness (Michael Kaplan Mysteries)

by David W. Cowles

  “Even if we use the key, that’s still breaking and entering,” Michael fretted.

  “I don’t think there’s much risk we’ll get caught,” Soozie encouraged. “And I don’t know of any other way to get the information you need.”

  “Do you know where Hogg keeps his records? They aren’t locked up in a safe or filing cabinet, are they?”

  “No. They’re in a tub file next to his desk. He has a photocopy machine, so we can make copies and be in and out in ten or fifteen minutes, at the most. If you’re afraid of being caught, Michael, I’ll go there by myself. But it will be a lot faster if we do it together.”

  Michael mulled over Soozie’s plan in his head. He hadn’t counted on having to break into Hogg’s clinic. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d bent the law slightly in pursuit of a news story. When he was working on an investigation everyone dubbed The Sartini Affair he cracked the case by snooping around inside a liquor distributor’s buildings.

  “Okay, Soozie,” he grinned. “We’re partners in crime. For tonight, anyway.”

  HOGG’S ANIMAL CLINIC was in a stand-alone concrete block building some distance from the neighboring businesses. Customer parking was in front, with three parking spaces in the rear for Hogg and his employees. Michael maneuvered his Mercedes into a space near the rear door, making sure the automobile could not be seen from the street.

  Hogg had not bothered to change the door locks when he broke up with Soozie. Her key still worked, and she and Michael were soon inside.

  A forty-watt bulb in a plain porcelain fixture provided light in the kennel area. Several dogs in floor-to-ceiling wire cages became excited and barked when they entered, apparently thinking or hoping, as dogs always do, that it was time to be fed. A big yellow cat sashayed up to them and rubbed against Michael’s legs. Soozie led the way to Hogg’s office, closed the door, and turned on the lights. The room was windowless. Michael’s apprehension was eased by knowing their presence could not be detected from outside.

  Soozie quickly located the ledger cards pertaining to deceased animals. Many indicated Hogg had charged for burial and markers at Fairlawn Pet Cemetery. Michael made photocopies of the records and Soozie replaced the originals in the file. Soozie’s estimate of the time required had been a little optimistic, but, still, they were out of the building within half an hour. Michael looked at his watch. It was not yet ten-thirty. He should be able to take Soozie home and be at Kimberly’s by eleven.

  “I told you it would be easy,” Soozie commented, as Michael drove out of Hogg’s parking lot.

  “Yes, it was easy. You were right. I’m absolutely positive we have the goods on Hogg. It’s patently obvious he charged the owners for burial of their animals, but just dumped them into the mine shaft and pocketed the money. I recognized a few of the names on the ledger cards. They matched the tags I’d removed from several carcasses in the mine. The first thing tomorrow morning I’ll check with Forrest Glade—he’s the man who owns the pet cemetery—and confirm that Hogg never brought the animals to him for burial.”

  “What will happen then?” asked Soozie anxiously.

  “I’ll have my assistant contact the pet owners. They should be informed. They’ll probably want to get together and file a class action lawsuit against Hogg. Breach of contract, fraud, misrepresentation, intentional infliction of emotional distress. I don’t know—there may be additional causes of action, too. I’ll write the story for tomorrow’s paper. It should make the first page.” Michael was elated.

  Suddenly, another thought crossed his mind. “I wonder if Stewart Lamb knew what Hogg was doing? Perhaps Hogg tried to kill Lamb to silence him about the burial scam, as well as prevent him from testifying at the license revocation hearing. That reminds me, Soozie, you said you had absolute proof Hogg talked about killing Lamb.”

  “Yes, I do,” she nodded. “I have a videotape of him saying that’s what he was going to do. Don’t ask me how I got it, please. Let’s go to my apartment and I’ll play it for you.”

  Soozie’s suggestion caused Michael to shudder slightly, but his feeling of apprehension left as quickly as it occurred. More and more, he was becoming convinced he had misjudged Soozie. Tonight she had made absolutely no sexual advances. Her behavior had, in fact, been exemplary, and he had not only been completely at ease in her presence, he had enjoyed every minute of their evening. Throwing caution to the wind, he dispelled his wariness and agreed to go to her apartment to view the video.

  SOOZIE’S APARTMENT was tastefully furnished in various shades of brown, tan, burnt orange, and avocado. It was immaculate, as if she had spent the entire day cleaning, vacuuming, and polishing furniture. Framed posters decorated the walls, together with a few watercolors of desert scenes and a large oil painting of a gray French poodle.

  “Let me take your jacket,” Soozie said graciously. Michael removed his blazer and she put it on a hanger and into a small closet near the front door.

  “How about a cup of coffee?” she offered. “It’ll just take a minute to make.”

  “That sounds great,” Michael agreed. He followed Soozie into the kitchen and paid close attention to make sure she didn’t put anything into the coffee maker except water and ground coffee.

  “While the coffee’s brewing, let me slip into something more comfortable. Will you excuse me for a couple of minutes?” she asked politely.

  “That’s okay. Go right ahead,” Michael told her. Be on your guard, Michael, he thought to himself. She’s probably going to put on a seductive nightgown. Perhaps, not even that.

  When Soozie came back into the kitchen, she was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, a sweater, and sandals. She still looked great, Michael noticed. He watched as Soozie poured their coffee and added two spoons of sugar and a dash of cream to each. She’d remembered the way he liked his coffee, and apparently preferred hers the same way.

  One corner of her mouth pulled into what may have been a teasing smile, but her eyes held a certain sadness. “I don’t have a television in my living room. You don’t mind going into my bedroom with me, do you, Michael? I promise I won’t rape you—isn’t that what you accused me of doing? Let’s take our coffee in there.”

  Michael could not believe that Soozie, who had been so sexually aggressive before this evening, was now so circumspect. What would she be like, once she connived him into her bedroom, he wondered? He decided he would go into her bedroom to view the tape, but would keep his distance from her.

  “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable on the bed,” Soozie suggested. “I’ll sit on the chair.”

  Michael sat gingerly on the edge of the king-size bed. Soozie turned on the television, inserted a tape into her VCR, and turned off the room lights. Soon, the image of two men sitting on opposite sides of a massive desk appeared on the twenty-seven inch TV screen. He immediately recognized that one of the men was attorney Oscar Stein. Stein’s face was well known in Las Vegas. Seldom did a week go by without Stein appearing on the evening television news broadcasts or having his photograph printed in the Times. Michael correctly assumed the other man was Gunther Hogg.

  He watched, completely fascinated, as Hogg outlined his troubles to Stein and Stein outlined his fee structure. When the tape reached the part where Hogg threatened to kill Lamb to keep him quiet, Michael jumped to his feet. “Holy shit! Soozie, please rewind that part. I want to hear it again.”

  He viewed the segment three times more. Then, when the tape was over, he unthinkingly slipped out of his loafers and reclined on Soozie’s bed. “This is absolutely dynamite. How did you get the tape, Soozie?”

  Soozie chewed on her lower lip. “Michael, please don’t ask me that. No one knows I have it—not even Oscar Stein. I’ll give you the tape, but you have to promise me you’ll never tell anyone where you got it. You can do that, can’t you? You can protect your sources?”

  “Yes, I can. You’ll be protected by the First Amendment newsman’s privilege.”

  “What wi
ll you do with the tape?”

  Michael hesitated a minute. He seemed unaware that Soozie had moved from the chair and was sitting next to him on the bed, her knees pulled up to her expansive chest. “At the moment, I’m not sure. The tape certainly makes it appear Hogg intended to kill Lamb.

  “Stein might argue that Hogg made the threat in jest, but the fact remains that shortly afterwards, someone did try to kill Lamb. What bothers me is that Stein was aware of Hogg’s threat and apparently didn’t report it to the authorities. As Stein himself indicated, attorneys are officers of the court and must report any knowledge they have of clients who intend to commit a crime. That’s the exception to the attorney-client privilege.

  “I’m not sure whether or not the tape itself is subject to the newsman’s privilege, or just the fact that you gave it to me. Constitutional law can be very tricky, and it wasn’t one of my best subjects in law school. I suppose I should turn the tape over to Mark Caruso, but I think I’ll wait a while. Perhaps I’ll confront Oscar Stein first.”

  Soozie’s face crunched into a worried expression. “Oscar is a very powerful man in this city, Michael. I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Perhaps not. I’ll have to give it more thought,” he conceded.

  The tape was rewinding. It was a few minutes past eleven-thirty, and the Tonight Show had just come on. Soozie edged closer to Michael. “Will you stay and watch television with me for a little while, Michael?”

  Michael dropped his feet to the floor and reached for his shoes. “I’d better go, Soozie. My wife’s probably waiting up for me,” he lied. Michael had no idea what Myra was doing, but he knew for a certainty Kimberly would be drinking coffee and chain-smoking cigarettes until he came in.

  Soozie placed her hand on his forearm. “Please, Michael, stay for just a few minutes. There’s something we really need to straighten out.”

  Twenty-Five

  SOOZIE PICKED UP the remote control and punched a button to mute the sound coming from her television, silencing Jay Leno in the middle of his monologue. “Lie back down and relax while we talk, Michael. You look tired.” Her voice was gentle but firm. Her hand pressed against his chest. Yielding, he assumed a supine position on the bed, his head resting on one of the many throw pillows.

  She peered down at Michael with a curious glint in her eyes. “How is your ankle doing now?” she asked solicitously.

  “It’s still a little sore, particularly when I’ve been on my feet a lot,” he complained. When he looked up at Soozie, standing voluptuously above him, he caught her moistening her lips with her tongue. He could not contain a shudder of desire and wondered if she noticed. Michael realized it had been nearly a week since he had made love, and he was feeling the pangs of withdrawal.

  Soozie sat down at the foot of her bed and raised his legs to her lap. “Here, let me massage your ankle,” she offered. “I’ll make it feel better.”

  “That isn’t necessary, Soozie,” Michael protested weakly, but did nothing to stop her.

  Soozie chewed on her lower lip momentarily, as if she didn’t know where to begin. She wondered if Michael would notice the tremor of anxiety in her voice. “Michael, it’s obvious our relationship didn’t get off to a good start, and I’m afraid it’s mostly my fault,” she apologized. “I consider myself to be an experienced judge of body language, but I misread you completely.

  “The minute you walked into my office I knew I wanted to make love with you. I thought the feeling was mutual. You were sending out strong vibes. Your eyes were filled with lust; I could feel them undressing me. Every glance, every movement you made, every gesture, every inflection in your voice, all told me you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. But I now realize the desire I thought I saw in you must have been the reflection of my own hunger.

  “When we were at the house on Habanero Street and you said you weren’t feeling well and wanted to lie down, I believed that was just a ploy you were using to maneuver me into the bedroom. I was more than willing to play your little game.”

  “It wasn’t a game,” Michael denied vigorously. “I was sick, Soozie. I passed out, don’t you remember?”

  “Actually, I thought you were faking. While I was trying to get you onto the bed and make you comfortable you became very aroused, and, well, that didn’t seem to be at all consistent with being unconscious. I decided to go along with your act and give you what I thought you wanted—to be completely dominated.”

  “You did a helluva good job, tying me to the headboard and all,” Michael told her. There was the faintest trace of resentment in his voice.

  “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” she agreed, a fiendish smile on her countenance. “I guess you must have been in shock when you woke up found me on top of you.” It was obvious she relished the remembrance of the incident.

  “That’s the understatement of the year,” Michael laughed hollowly, recalling he was inside her when he came to. “Actually, I thought you’d slipped knockout drops into my Coke,” he said soberly.

  Her brows wrinkled in puzzlement. “Why on earth would you think I’d do something like that, Michael? Why would I want you unconscious? I wanted to have sex with you, not steal your wallet.”

  In retrospect, Michael had to concede that what Soozie said made sense. Perhaps he had been mistaken. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Her voice took on a somber tone. “Now that I’ve explained how we wound up in bed together, perhaps against your wishes, I’d like to know if it’s possible for us to start over as if nothing happened that day—though I must be honest; I enjoyed every minute of making love with you and don’t regret a thing either of us did.”

  Michael said nothing and waited for Soozie to continue. She frowned in frustration. “Damn it, I’ve never been accused of being short on words, but this is very difficult for me. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve never been in love, but I’ve really fallen for you, Michael. I know you’re married, so if I can’t have you all the time, I’ll settle for whatever I can get.”

  He clasped Soozie’s hand and squeezed. “Soozie, I don’t want to mislead you. I love my wife, completely and without equivocation. There would be no future for you and me. You deserve much more than I could ever be to you. You deserve a man all your own.”

  “Oh, Michael,” she protested, easing higher up on the bed. She toyed with the buttons on his shirt, her fingers occasionally slipping inside. “I don’t want any other man. I want you. Your wife said you’re a womanizer, always cheating on her. If you’re going to have sex outside of marriage anyway, I want it to be with me. I don’t mind being the other woman in your life, I really don’t. Or, are you trying to say I don’t appeal to you?”

  Michael was taken aback. Kimberly had said virtually the same thing to him, even using many of the same words. Two gorgeous women lusted for him, but he wanted only his wife. He decided to let Soozie down as gently as possible. It was probably his fault she had received mixed messages from him.

  “Of course I find you attractive. You know I do. You’re right. I was ogling you when we were in your office. I didn’t realize I was being so obvious, though,” he chuckled apologetically. “That doesn’t change things, though. I’m still very married and in love with my wife.”

  Soozie was now sitting very close to Michael. When she leaned over and looked down at him, their faces were only inches apart. He had never seen eyes as green as hers, like two brilliant jewels. Fascinated, he could not avert his gaze.

  “Why do you cheat on your wife, Michael?”

  The question unnerved him. Michael could not tell Soozie that Kimberly wasn’t his wife, but was playing a role. Nor could he admit he had not been with other women previously; the recital of his many infidelities had been a fable concocted by Kimberly and him solely for Soozie’s benefit.

  “I … I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it,” he said, skirting the issue.

  “I think I know why,” Soozie told him. “I’m sure
you’ve heard the story that every man wants three women—a lady in the living room, a gourmet cook in the kitchen, and a whore in the bedroom. Few women can fill all three roles satisfactorily, so men look elsewhere for whatever their wife lacks.

  “In some affairs, all the man wants is a woman with whom he can have a stimulating conversation over wine and a good dinner. Perhaps the man’s wife is so vacuous she can’t talk about anything except what she heard that day on television. In this type of relationship, sex is minimal, almost token. The relationship is nearly platonic—although I don’t believe there can ever be truly platonic relationships between healthy, normal men and women. Sooner or later, whatever attracted them to each other in the first place draws them into bed.

  “Other types of affairs are entirely sexual. The man has fantastic orgies with his lover, who might be stupid and ugly as sin, but knows how to thoroughly satisfy him in bed. He would never want to be seen with the woman in public, though, and as soon as the sex is over he can’t wait to get dressed and go home to his frigid wife—but he keeps returning to his girlfriend time and again, like a bee to a flower, for he’s become addicted to her particular style of lovemaking.