Flood Abatement

by James Norton

  Unfortunately, he grabbed a chair from a nearby table and dragged it up to the end of the booth. The waitress frowned at him as she approached with the coffee pot. He turned the cup right side up and waited in silence as she poured.

  “Do you have any blueberry pie?” Rhonda asked.

  “Yes we do.” the waitress said.

  “Good, I’ll take a piece.” Rhonda nodded at Nick.

  “Sure, why not.”

  When the waitress in her brown and white uniform walked four paces away he said, “What’s going on here?”

  “Lots of money.”

  “I guessed that, but why did you cut those idiots in on the deal?”

  “At some point we’ll need someone to take a fall.”

  Nick smiled on the left side of his face. They sipped their coffee when the waitress returned with the pie. Rhonda watched while he adjusted his chair several times before finding a comfortable position to address the slice. His every inconvenience delighted her. When the performance was over, she began to eat her pie.

  After two forkfuls, Nick said, “If that’s their job, tell me again what’s mine?”

  “Bernie says, that to get the most money for the coin we need to hold a little auction. He also said, that nobody honest would be interested in buying a stolen coin.” Rhonda shifted in her seat. “You know some people who might be interested.”

  “You said that before, is that all?”

  “Yes, but we need to work out some details.”

  “Okay, who’s this Bernie guy?” Nick asked.

  “He works for my lawyer.”

  The troll looked at her over a forkful of pie. “And what else?”

  This was an area she didn’t want to get into. If she said too much about Bernie, it might give Nick some kind of leverage on her. Still, it was obvious that Bernie was more into the situation than just some hired hand. Better give a plausible answer. First the lie. “He’s my second cousin on my father’s side.” She looked over Nick’s right shoulder. “And, Nana likes him.”

  “How about you? Do you like him?”

  “He’s okay, but he’s sort of a screw-up.”

  Nick tapped his fork on the dish. “How?”

  Now the truth. “He’s gonna be disbarred.”

  “You know why?”

  And, a lie. “Someone complained about an estate he was handling.”

  “Crooked?”

  Rhonda looked over his head. “No, poor record keeping.”

  “Hmm.” He sipped his coffee then toyed with his pie crust. “How about you just give me the movie back?”

  “After we sell the coin, maybe we can talk about it.”

  “You know I have some tough investors who want to see that film hit the market.”

  “Sure Nick, but it’s my naked ass up there on the screen. I want a bigger bite of the action.”

  “Hey, if we’re talking money here, I think we can make a deal.”

  “Like I said, after we sell the coin. One thing at a time.”

  “I’m gonna need the list.”

  “What list?”

  “My customer list.”

  “For what?”

  “The people I sell the porno to.”

  “I really don’t have it, Nick.”

  “Bullshit, you left a note.”

  She sat back and put her palms on the table. “You could come up with a dozen names without looking at any piece of paper.”

  “Sure, but you want to be absolutely sure. You want to have the right people, the ones who have the money and won’t talk. For that, I need the list”

  “Fine, but, I didn’t take your list. The note I left was on your desk.”

  “But, you know where it is.”

  “Now that you mention it, I can make a good guess. If you think about it you can too.”

  He put the fork down and looked into the half eaten

  pie. “Thom.”

  Rhonda screwed her mouth up. “If you need the list, you’d better go get it.”

  Nick smiled. “We, sweet cakes, you and me.”

  She finished most of the pie, but left the crust. “I don’t trust you, but I’ve got the coin and the film. You’ll be back.”

  “Tell you what. We’ll let Bernie do it.” He grinned. “He’s your guy.”

  Rhonda sat and played with the pie crust. “No, you go to LA. Bernie can call on your clients to set up the auction.”

  “Sure, why not.”

  They sat in the nearly empty restaurant and studied each other.

  “Rhonda, I could’a made you rich,” Nick said.

  “No, you could have made me notorious while you got rich, but we are going to fix that.”

  He flexed his eyebrows. “Anyway, I have a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “How do we know the coin is real?”

  Chapter 74

  This entire thing about Nana’s house had spiraled completely out of control. Bernie took a can of Pabst from the refrigerator and went out to sit alone on his patio. Actually it was a small piece of concrete behind his garage on the alley. If he was honest with himself, it was out of control that first night when he and Rhonda went inside the house and dug up the suitcase. Then there was the corpse in the flowerbed, and Ollie with the ice pick in his ear, and Rudolph drowning, and Knickerbocker Smith and Leon and Stan. Bernie rolled the can between his palms. Okay, the situation had been out of control almost from the get go, but those were all things that happened to Rhonda and him. Selling the stolen Double Eagle, or maybe it was a phony, was something they were going to do to somebody else. That was the difference. He sipped the beer. It was in a whole different league than his dealings with the judge.

  Yes, he should’a told the cops a bunch of things, but he could justify that to himself because they weren’t doing anything wrong. Now, they would be either selling stolen government property or conning someone. He would be risking jail or major physical injury. Why would he do that? He took several big swallows of beer.

  There was the money. It might be lots of money. But, he could always get money. If he was in jail or dead, the money wasn’t going to do him any good. On the other hand, the State of Wisconsin might disbar him for life or something close to it. He was going to have to hustle some work, other than the law. And, and, he needed the money.

  Then, there was Rhonda. He didn’t want her to do it for pretty much the same reasons he didn’t want to see himself do it. She was likable in so many ways. If he needed to watch out for her beautiful rear end while he watched out for his own then that was a level of complication he could deal with, maybe. And, there was that day in LA … LA. He finished the beer, crushed the can and threw it at a tree. “Aw crap!” He didn’t really trust her. He missed and the can landed in the grass.

  “What’s the matter?” Rhonda asked as she walked out his back door with two cans of beer. Her long tan legs stretched down from a pair of small red shorts with her equally tan arms emphasized by a sleeveless white blouse open at the neck.

  Bernie stood. “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Sell the coin.”

  She opened the cans with a church-key, gave him one then slipped her arms around his waist. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s illegal.”

  “So what? Nixon’s a crook. His top guys are thieves and liars.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “No Bernie, everybody is out for themselves and I’m gonna get mine.”

  “Then, because you might end up in jail.”

  “And?”

  “And, the people who might buy it might hurt you.”

  “That would bother you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are a sweet man Bernie Keagan.” She touched her lips to his then leaned back an inch or two. “But we don’t know if any of this is real.”

  He sighed and sat down. “No, we don’t.”

  “Let’s find out.” She put her can of beer on the upturned milk crate that acted as a
patio table and stuck her hands into the pockets of her shorts. When she brought them out she had the ’33 Double Eagle in her left and a small amber bottle in her right.

  “What’s that?”

  “Aqua Regia. We’re gonna run the little test Henry talked about.” She squatted down and put the coin on the concrete. With great care she pulled the eye-dropper from the bottle. “Ready?”

  He knelt beside her. “Yeah.”

  She placed a drop of liquid on the coin. Nothing happened. She dripped another. Still nothing. And, one more.

  Bernie tried to speak, but had to take a breath first. The caustic smell of the acid grated on his sinuses. “Is that stuff the real thing?”

  With a glance to the left she spotted an old washer in the grass and put a drop on it. The metal instantly began to smoke.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered as she gingerly slipped the stopper back into the bottle.

  She looked at him with a strained smile. He poured his beer on the Eagle to dilute the acid and clean the coin. They sat down in the canvas folding chairs and listened to the breeze blow the yellow leaves off the locust tree in the neighbor’s backyard.

  “We’re in the big time,” she said.

  “Yeah, I guess there was always a little part of me that hoped it was a fraud and we could just walk away.”

  “Sorry.” She touched his knee then stood. “Better clean up.”

  When the coin was clean and back in its protective envelope, he took her hands. “Don’t do it.”

  She stepped into his arms and held him around the waist. “You are a very sweet man,” she whispered then kissed him. “I’m gonna take you upstairs right now and jump your bones.”

  “Rhonda, I …”

  She released her grip and took his hand in hers. She kissed his cheek as she led him away. He would bring the subject up again later. He could. He really could.

  Chapter 75

  The little click the treasure box made when she removed the coin wormed its way into Rhonda’s head as she drifted toward sleep. She was exhausted and tried to push the thought away. It crept right back to nag her awake. “Nuts.”

  Bernie snored softly on his left side. Rhonda opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling. With a disgusted exhale, she sat on the edge of the bed. Her muscles ached with the exertion of the past days, but there was nothing for it. She would have to go downstairs and take a look. She thought to wake Bernie, but he was now on his back sawing wood. Poor guy was still purple and green from the fights he endured.

  Downstairs in a faded yellow T-shirt of Bernie’s that proclaimed “Marquette Warriors,” she took the box from its hiding place next to the couch and brought it into the kitchen. The vinyl of the kitchen chair was cool on her bare legs as she sat down to reopen the hiding place. Two tries and the panel slid open.

  She maneuvered the opening so that the overhead light would shine into the chamber. Nothing fancy or interesting. She angled the box a different way. Light reflected for a second. “Hmm.” Flashlight in hand, she looked closer and saw a tiny metallic button buried in the wood.

  Press the button, Rhonda. She looked around the kitchen. With what? She stood and began opening drawers while munching on the cold moo shu pork form dinner. You don’t have much in the way of cooking utensils, do you Bernie.

  Finally, she found a barbecue fork with two long tines. Re-seated at the table she put the box between her knees. With flashlight in one hand she jabbed a tine into the metal button. The treasure box clicked. The chamber where she had removed the first coin stood open. She tilted the box to get a better look and another small envelope fell into view. “Damn,” she breathed. The second coin was there just as Rhonda had left it.

  Frozen in place, she barely reached the tongs on the table. With measured movements, she removed the second prize. She realized she wasn’t breathing and gasped for air as she put it on the table. A moment to unwrap the coin and she knew there were now two 1933 Double Eagles.

  Rhonda jumped from her chair and made it to the top of the stairs before she stopped. What good would it do to tell Bernie about this coin right now?

  She sat on the top stair. His snoring echoed in the hall. Well, she wasn’t going to get any sleep in that room. No sense waking him. The news wouldn’t change. Still, nothing to be gained by letting people know. Rhonda went into the bedroom for her pillow and a blanket, then camped out on the sofa downstairs.

  Chapter 76

  The sharp smell and taste of juniper berries mixed with the cold, clear liquid and the burn at the back of the throat, that’s what made a dry martini great. Rhonda placed the stemmed glass back on the counter and stirred the liquid with two olives on a small, black plastic sword. Queen Victoria looked out at her from the bottle of Bombay gin on the kitchen table. Rhonda toasted the lady on the bottle. Between the two of them they made a damn fine drink. Martinis in the afternoon with Nana, decadent and unproductive. Just what she needed to chill her out, ever so slightly.

  This was the big one and Rhonda knew she needed to play it carefully. Bernie was right. A 1933 Double Eagle was only worth what somebody was willing to pay for it. So she needed a buyer and a plan to force a big price. How to do it? Too many players in the game just now. How to weed them out? She took a sip of the wicked potion. High reward. High risk. Did she need any help? Maybe, maybe not. If she did, who should she get? Could she protect Nana? Could she protect Bernie? Could she tell him? Another sip warmed her from the tip of her tail bone on up. Keep it simple. Keep it close. The front doorbell rang.

  The man at the door wore a cheap, dark suit with a tie that looked like it had been tied only once then left as a noose to be hung on a door knob or around the owner’s neck. He stood about five-eight, balding and his shoes needed shining.

  “Frances Lapinski?” he asked.

  Rhonda put her hands in the pockets of her faded jeans. “No, that’s my grandmother.”

  “Is she available?”

  “Who are you and what do you want?”

  The man reached into the breast pocket of his wrinkled suit coat and produced a small leather folder which he proceeded to open and show. “Agent Allen Durone, United States Secret Service.”

  “May I see that, please.”

  Agent Durone placed the folder in her hand. She studied the badge and the picture on the ID card. She read the information provided and matched the features in the photograph with the man in her doorway before she handed the credentials back. Seemed legit. But, this guy looked like he’d slept in his suit for the past few days. “You need a new picture. This one’s getting old. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m here to see Frances Lapinski. Is she in?”

  “My grandmother has been in the hospital for the past several days and is resting at the moment.”

  Durone put his little leather folder back into his cheap suit. “When would she be available?”

  “Difficult to say. She’s recently lost her house and is pretty shaky.”

  Rhonda could tell from the way the man was screwing up his face that he was unhappy with her answer. Well, life was difficult and he would just have to get over it. She also thought that it was unprofessional of a highly trained federal officer to show any emotion over such a simple exchange. Hard to believe he was with the Secret Service. What’s his angle?

  The man shifted from his left foot to his right. “Ah, I’m looking for one of our agents, a Rudolph Waldoch. Have you seen him?”

  Rhonda’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “You’ve seen him then?”

  “He’s a federal agent?”

  “Yes, yes he is.”

  Rhonda’s mind raced. What to say. What to say. Stall. Think. Think. “Come in, ah agent, ah …”

  “Durone.”

  “Yeah, come in agent Durone.”

  They went into the front room and sat in matching chintz covered chairs.

  “So you’ve seen him,” he asked as he took out a little note book.

  “Yes, but h
e never identified himself as a federal agent.”

  “He’s supposed to be undercover.”

  “Undercover? The man is six-eight, four-hundred fifty pounds!” Rhonda rubbed her upper arm where Rudolph gripped her.

  “Agent Waldoch contacted you?”

  How much to tell him. “Yes, he was looking for a blue suitcase. He took two.”

  “When was that?”

  “Um, three, four days ago.”

  “Was it three or four days ago?”

  “Both actually. One suitcase three days ago and another four days ago.”

  Durone wrote in his notebook. “Did he say anything to you?”

  “Nope, he just took the cases and left.”

  “Have you seen or spoken to him since?”

  Right here was where all the time working in the strip joints came in handy. Rhonda could lie to men and make them believe it was gospel. She looked over Durone’s right shoulder and spoke. “No, I haven’t seen him since.” She looked him in the eye, smiled slightly, and held it.

  He wrote her answer down.

  She touched her left cheekbone with her right index finger. Not bad. And, she still had all her clothes on. “Is he missing?”

  Durone stood and walked out. At the door he turned. “Thank you for your help.”

  Nana joined Rhonda at the front window as she watched the fed get into his dull gray car.

  “What was that about?” Nana asked. Granddaughter and grandmother talked about the encounter. At the end Nana said, “That was strange.”

  “Yeah, very. I’ve never met a fed who looked so scruffy.”

  Nana lit a cigarette.

  Rhonda stepped onto the front stoop to watch Durone’s car disappear down the street. “Did you put the coin I gave you this morning in a safe place?”

  The smoke rolled out of the old woman’s mouth.

  “Sure,its in my tube of denture adhesive.”

  Chapter 77

  Nick smelled the rich tobacco before Lucerio said, “Come in. Close the door.”