Dreams of the Dead

by Perri O'shaughnessy

  “You’re a sailor?”

  “I am. Do you like to sail, Nina? May I—”

  “Sure, Nina’s fine. I don’t get to sail that often. The demands of my practice, you know. Have you been working at Tahoe long?”

  “Just a couple of years. I’m originally from Germany. I was working out of Vancouver before I came here.”

  He continued smiling. His confidence was overwhelming as he looked around her office, studying her certificate from the Monterey College of Law, her admissions to various California state and appellate courts, and the Washoe prints Sandy had hung around the office, but he seemed relaxed and reasonable. Nina wrote him up in her mind as a European with a supplemental income who had visited and fallen in love with Tahoe. There were plenty around, especially among the skiers.

  She had barely sat down when he started talking again. “How is this going to work, Nina? I’ve been working with Lynda Eckhardt, and before her involvement, you know already, I was looking for Jim Strong in connection with an embezzlement. The hearing on the Paradise sale is tomorrow. You’re stepping in very, very late. Will that be a problem for you?”

  “I’ve been in close touch with Lynda. I’m up to speed.”

  “You know that Philip needs me to get to Brazil and get some information? It seems we may be out of time.”

  “No. We’ll get the time for you to go. I’ll get you the time.”

  “Great! Great! I’m glad you’re with us.”

  “Between you and me, Eric, I think you need to assume this is a fraudulent scheme and bring us the details.”

  “Really? You think there’s no way Strong is alive?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why?” Brinkman said. “What about the affidavit?”

  Nina got a funny feeling. “Are you recording?”

  “Are you?”

  “No. We’re on the same side. Besides, this conversation is privileged as attorney work product.”

  “I’m not recording.” Brinkman folded his hands in his lap as if waiting for her to spill some beans, as though he already knew what had happened to Jim Strong.

  She told herself, watch out, he’s an investigator. “I’m a lawyer. Paranoia is unavoidable.”

  “I’m glad Philip retained you. I remember you from the events around the time of his son’s disappearance. You were in the avalanche he caused, I read about that. And your husband. That was terrible. I’m very sorry.”

  “Thank you. So you were investigating the embezzlement at Paradise?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m curious. Did you advise Philip to go to the police regarding the theft from the capital account, when he asked you to handle it privately?” Nina said.

  “Of course. He said it would ruin his business, and I had to keep it quiet. And as we both know, Jim Strong disappeared off the face of the earth over two years ago. I looked for him then, all over the world. I was stunned to see this affidavit. Like you, right?”

  Nina nodded.

  “Stunned. I hadn’t caught up with him, and now he was coming out of the woodwork in Porto Alegre of all places, in the southern part of Brazil, not too far from Argentina. I know that city. He picked a sensible place to disappear. The local government will turn a blind eye to a well-behaved foreigner with a little money.”

  “I believe you won’t find him there.”

  “You sound so sure.” He was studying her harder than she was studying him and not bothering to hide it.

  She shrugged. “Did you obtain proof he was embezzling from the resort?”

  “There were accounting discrepancies, and soon afterward, one day the whole capital account was emptied. That same day, Jim Strong seems to have left the area. That’s pretty good circumstantial evidence he was involved. But, and this has continued to bother me, I couldn’t find his mark anywhere. Couldn’t find the money trail. It’s one of my few failures, actually, which is why I’m gung ho about having the chance to follow up now.”

  “But you’re convinced he had that money when he disappeared, aren’t you?”

  To Nina’s surprise, Brinkman answered, “I’m not positive. I don’t know if he had a well-thought-out plan. He was in a highly emotional state, decompensating you might say, during the days before his disappearance. I’m not at all sure he was even sane. I think if he committed the thefts, that it was an opportunistic crime.” Brinkman got up and stood by the door, where Sandy would be getting her earful. “This will surprise you, but I was zeroing in on someone else for the embezzlements. I thought it possible that someone else knew Jim Strong was gone and proceeded to take advantage of the chaos. It was an online theft, you know, a matter of passwords.”

  “But who on earth are you talking about?” Nina asked. “I thought—Philip said—”

  “Oh, he’s sure it was Jim. He also seems sure Jim is alive. But I think—can you keep a secret?”

  “My job in one word.”

  “And how about you?” Eric said, getting up and throwing open the cracked door to reveal Sandy.

  “Come on in and join us, Sandy.” Nina couldn’t help but crack a smile. Sandy came in and sat down.

  Eric smiled at her, too. “To continue, then, I was working on the theory that Marianne Strong, Philip’s daughter-in-law, and her half brother, Gene, stole the money.”

  “Was there evidence of that?”

  “Opportunity, primarily. Motive. Knowledge. But, no, I never managed to make the linkage. I’m not sure of that now. It would have been easy for anyone with the password to do it. And Philip was bad with passwords. He had written it in his address book, which he left on his kitchen table most of the time. Anyone in the family could have taken note of it. Though I will say if Marianne stole it, she hasn’t deposited the money into any known bank account, and we haven’t caught her spending any of it over the past two years.”

  “There was no dispositive evidence as to who did it?” Nina asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe,” Brinkman said. “So you think this affidavit is bogus.” He was still standing by the door. Nina let herself waste a moment enjoying his posture, the belt, the chest—that rare event, a man with a sense of fashion.

  She had almost missed the change of subject. “Yes. Bogus.”

  “You think he’s dead.”

  Nina said firmly, “I think it’s fraud, Eric. I want you to know my opinion because I don’t want you to waste a lot of time.”

  “I appreciate that.” Brinkman looked away. “He killed your husband. I can only imagine.”

  “So you’re going down there?”

  Eric half smiled. “As soon as you get me the okay. I’ll enjoy it even though it’s a job assignment. I know Porto Alegre. The inland mountains contain some of the last Atlantic jungle habitat on earth. A lot of Germans immigrated to the area over the past hundred and fifty years. I’ll fit in well. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  The door opened suddenly, and Brinkman stepped back. “Oh, hi, Paul,” Nina said. “Come in. This is Eric Brinkman.”

  Paul had to look up at him as they shook hands. Powerful masculine chemistries clashed as the two big men looked around the small office, each angling for the best spot. There were only the two empty paltry-looking orange client chairs. They pulled out the dueling chairs and sat opposite each other, Nina presiding.

  Sandy had gone to the door. “There’s the phone. It’s been fun,” she said, and moved without haste into the outer office again.

  “Don’t shut it all the way,” Eric said. “Wouldn’t want you to miss anything.” But it sounded witty, not mean.

  Nina felt a bristling thing happening in the air. Eric and Paul had glanced at each other’s eyes long enough to decide not to befriend each other. Nina brushed the moment aside as irrelevant. She wasn’t interested in their testosterone issues, and she was sure they could set them aside to do the work. They were professionals on the same side and they would all get along.

  “Heard of you,
” Brinkman said to Paul. “Ex–homicide detective in the Bay Area, right? Currently working out of Carmel?”

  “That’s right. I’m surprised I hadn’t heard of you,” Paul said, “considering you’re local.”

  “Most of my work is in San Francisco and Silicon Valley. My clients like a low profile. I like a low profile. It’s a relief to meet someone with a lot of local knowledge. Hope you’ll allow me to pick your brain.”

  “Yeah. Okay,” Paul said. “Maybe it’ll be the other way around. You’ve been on this a lot longer than I have.”

  Eric said to Nina, “Is Paul on this case?”

  “If Nina’s involved, I’m involved,” Paul said.

  “Paul isn’t formally part of the case but he’s my associate,” Nina said.

  “Did you know Jim Strong?” Eric asked Paul.

  “I knew him,” Paul said. “I’d recognize him if I ever saw him. Thing is, I find that prospect unlikely.”

  “Why, Paul?” Brinkman said. “What do you know we don’t know?”

  “Jim Strong’s not the type to sit quietly in some remote corner of the world for years, murder warrant or no.” Paul said this calmly and carefully, and Nina felt the tight grip on her heart loosen. He had it under control.

  “You sound so sure,” Brinkman said.

  “I know human nature.”

  “He’s a fugitive from justice. Seems like he’d have to hide somewhere far away, where he might feel safe. Why not Majorca? Why not Brazil? Is that really so far-fetched?” Brinkman asked.

  “If he ran, he could be anywhere, I’ll grant you that. But if he ran south, you’d hear some news out of Brazil that would not be pleasant. He’s a killer. He would never stop killing.”

  Brinkman nodded.

  “I’ve done a lot of reading on the subject,” Paul continued. “People don’t jump up and kill several other people, unless we’re talking about domestic murder-suicides, which are an entirely different realm. No, men like Jim develop. They start off cruel when they are young, bullying, hurting animals, that kind of thing. It’s easy enough to hide, so they do. Their families might know nothing. Of course, his mother has been dead a long time.”

  Nina said, “His father and siblings saw signs of how troubled he was, but they were in denial about what it all meant. Who would imagine your son might kill his wife, his brother, and—” She stopped.

  Both men looked at her with sympathy.

  “Yes, what parent can stand to think their precious little boy is a monster?” Brinkman asked.

  “Exactly.” Paul nodded. “And a monster might disappear for a while, but he would come back to do the things he’s compelled to do. There’s been no sign of him here in South Lake Tahoe in years. In my opinion, what you’re going to end up doing is finding out who is trying to defraud the Strong family of millions of dollars. It’s too bad you have to go all the way to Brazil to do that.”

  “Well, you and Nina seem of like mind about that,” Brinkman said, looking back and forth at them. “Old friends get like that.”

  Paul shrugged it off. “I am wondering, though. What’s your strategy, once you get down there?”

  “Well, I’ll see the lawyer and the notary who executed the papers. I’ve already called the Brazilian lawyer. Her name is Gisele Kraft. She claims a man who looks like the photos I sent down did come to her to get the affidavit prepared and showed her an American driver’s license and a passport.”

  “Since it isn’t Strong,” Paul said, “I’d look into Gene Malavoy’s travel arrangements—he’s the half brother of Marianne Strong and he works at Paradise, too.”

  “I know Gene. I’m way ahead of you on that.”

  “Nina’s also looking at Michael Stamp, the lawyer who threw this phony paperwork at the court.”

  “Yeah? Yeah, I see your thinking, Nina, very good. A crooked lawyer, routes the whole thing through his office, gets the money sent to another crooked lawyer.”

  “If Gisele turns out to be young and gorgeous, I’ll buy that,” Paul said.

  “Stamp is married,” Nina said. “Happily, I think. I think he’s got the skill and nerve to try to carry off something like this. The problem is, he has a very good reputation. He should be checked out anyway.”

  “I’ll bring a photo of him,” Brinkman said. His expensive boot moved close to Paul’s retro Hush Puppies. The tension in the air increased infinitesimally. Nina found herself staring helplessly at the boot, hoping it would not accidentally on purpose kick Paul’s shoe.

  An angel passed over, apparently, because the room went silent. Nina was facing two good-looking men, and it felt good at least to receive the vibes coming her way. It had been a while. Eric seemed to be playing up to her. She found herself looking down, blushing a little at the intensity of his stare.

  “Nina? I’m confused. Has Paul been hired independently of my company to work on this case?” Eric said again. They had taken a long detour on that question.

  “Not at this time,” Nina said.

  Eric got up and opened the door. “I’ll be on my way, then. Nice to meet you, Paul, see you around. Nina, I am glad we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

  Then Eric was gone. Paul said to Nina, “Is that true? You can’t get me the gig? He’s got it?”

  “Philip can’t afford both of you, and Lynda, and me, too, Paul. Brinkman seems to be doing a good job.”

  “He’s too smart for his Rolex. He’s going to divine all this fast, Nina. He’s going to catch the con and he’s going to catch me. It’s not good that I can’t work for Strong, too.”

  “I’ll talk to Philip again.”

  “Let’s get a drink.”

  “Sorry, I have to get home,” Nina said.

  “What? But we haven’t caught up yet.”

  “That may be, but I have supper to make and homework to enforce and other clients whose files I have to work on tonight.”

  Paul said to Sandy, who had come in again, “She won’t have a drink with me, can you believe this? A stand-up old friend like me, drives all this way, and she won’t have a drink. And I know you’re with Joseph, Sandy, so I can’t keep you out at a bar.”

  “Joe wants to show you his new circular-saw projects. Says he’s fixing you dinner.”

  Paul said, “Sounds great. I might jump in the hot springs while I’m out near Markleeville.”

  “Come on out to the house at six,” Sandy said. “Bring a bottle of beer.”

  Nina said, “See you tomorrow morning, Paul.”

  The outer door closed on Paul. Sandy and Nina turned to look at each other.

  A lengthy silence led into the exhalatory sound of a long day finally over with.

  Sandy broke it. “Now that was fun. In my single days I would have locked the door so neither of them could get away and pulled out a picnic basket and a bottle of gin.”

  Nina said, “Why, Sandy. Are you commenting on the, er, looks of the gentlemen we have been meeting with today?”

  “Ya think? Smokin’!”

  CHAPTER 10

  Jim Strong’s face, progressively less human and uglier, showed up again on the inside of Nina’s eyelids when she tried to sleep that night. He smiled at her with those big white teeth of his, a smile that devolved into a leer when she looked hard.

  She went down to the kitchen and poured herself a tot of whiskey, usually enough to conk her out for the night. An hour later, she changed the sheets on her bed and stuck an air filter machine in her room to make white noise. She closed her eyes and concentrated on a glowing white dot in the middle of her forehead and blanked out her mind. She tried counting backward from one hundred.

  Jim kept staring, baleful on the inside of her eyelids. She lost count around eighty-eight.

  Her eyes felt dry with all the staring and staring back.

  About two, she made herself hot chocolate in the dark, cold kitchen, sniffing at the greasy pans Bob had left to soak in the sink. Back in bed, she drank the chocolate, fluffed up her pillows, clo
sed her eyes, and watched Jim, no longer smiling, now actively malevolent.

  When she failed again to obliterate his face, she turned on the radio, the dullest station she could find, waiting to be soothed by murmuring voices perseverating about war, capitalism, consumerism.

  She went into the bathroom and opened the junk drawer. A minute’s rummaging brought forth her treasure, an allergy pill. She swallowed it and backed it up with an entire glass of water. Then she made sure for the twelfth time that the alarm was set, paced until she felt too tired to walk anymore, and once again lay down on her comfortless bed. At last, sometime around four in the morning, she sank into a nightmare she lived through to the end.

  They turned around and headed as swiftly as they could back the way they had come, clumsy on the snowshoes, deep in powder, scared.

  The snowmobile took off, straight up the mountain. It peaked almost two hundred feet directly above them and roared down the other side into the trees they headed toward.

  Suddenly Nina felt tired, her feet as heavy and awkward as bowling balls. She remembered how mountain climbers at high altitudes take eight breaths after every step. She didn’t want to go toward that revving motor in the trees, but Strong was much faster and could cut them off easily no matter which way they went. She took sharp, shallow breaths and tried to prepare herself as they trudged forward.

  Jim Strong gunned the snowmobile and roared away from them, up the mountain, higher than she would have thought possible. About two hundred feet above them now, he sat on the snowmobile, silent.

  Cold crept into the gaps between her gloves and her hands and up the legs of her pants. She felt her nose harden and hurt with it. Panting with exertion, barely balanced on her snowshoes, she turned once more to look up.

  With a mighty roar, Jim’s machine lurched to life. It cut back and forth above them as they turned, struggling down the mountain as fast as they could. They realized what he was doing now. All that snow, the tons and tons that had dropped from the sky—

  The mountain came alive.

  They moved even though they stood immobile, Nina’s hand at her throat, her husband’s hand reaching toward her, moving downhill faster and faster as the huge slab of snow they were standing on slid down the mountain toward the valley below. For a second that lasted forever, they watched the snow above them break into massive, bricklike slabs accelerating at different speeds down the mountain. Right in the middle of the face, traveling down with it, they had no escape. Nina saw Jim Strong, a tiny figure in the blinding sun up above, racing for the side.