That’s it. I’ve heard enough. Not only is this shrink certifiable, he’s a crook too. I grab the document out of Tony’s hand, stand up, lean over the desk, and give Chris some advice.
“Listen here, you nutcase. Lucky for you the jump attempt ended before the news helicopters arrived, so no one really got a good enough look at you. You were standing on a ledge that was near the corner of the building above a protruding sign for the savings and loan downstairs, so they couldn’t see your face from the street either. Now here’s the deal. You sign this document, Detective Tony goes back to work, you don’t screw the City out of any money, and we all tell the papers that it must have been one of your patients out there. We don’t know who your patients are, and you don’t have to tell them who it was, because of doctor-patient privilege.
“That leaves everyone happy, Tony’s working again, and your alleged career as a shrink is still intact. The alternative is that you get arrested right now for perpetrating a fraud on the City, and you spend the rest of your life in a loony bin. So what’s it gonna be, doc?”
The shrink looks up at me with an icy stare, removes a pen from the gold matching set on his desk, signs Tony’s certificate, and we both walk out of his office.
There’s not much conversation in the car on the way back to the Marina, other than my asking Tony one question. “How did you know he wasn’t going to jump?”
“Elementary, counselor. His shoes looked like they’d just been worked on by that shoeshine guy in the lobby, because I could see ink polish stains on the ledge. Nobody who intends to jump off an eleventh story ledge has his shoes shined first. Besides, unless the guy’s a complete psycho, he’s probably a coward. He’s afraid to face the problems that he’s got, like a cheating wife, too many bills, stuff like that. They think that being out on a ledge will get them some attention. When he saw me waving this big pistola in his direction, he got to see what death really looks like, and that scared the hell out of him. How about you? How did you know about that protruding sign under the ledge?”
“I lied.”
Tony actually cracks a slight smile at hearing my answer. “Well, it worked. That guy was really going to work me over if you weren’t there. If I didn’t get certified quick, I’d be in line for some prosecution for that off-duty shooting, because I didn’t identify myself first by shouting out “police!” Those are the rules, you know. Next they’ll probably require us to wear tee-shirts with big bulls eyes painted on, so the bad guys can have an easier target to hit. And from what I hear, that broad who’s the new district attorney is a real ball-buster. You’re a criminal lawyer, do you know her?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
I can tell that the computer in his brain is spinning. After a few minutes, he looks at me and says. “Oh yeah, you’re the one. Now I remember. Well, I owe you.”
“It’s funny you should mention that. I’ve got a little situation I need some help with. Some sleazeball is harassing my friend’s fiancée.”
“You want me to talk to him?”
“I don’t want him killed. I just want to know who he is. I can handle it from there.”
I give him the note that Olive gave me.
“Here’s his cell phone number.”
Tony doesn’t say anything. He takes the note and sticks it in his pocket. It’s a nice quiet conversation-less ride back to the Marina.
* * * * * *
Chapter 4
Back at the boat, I’m greeted with a dogmail message that urges me to call a Miss April May. This name sounds like a joke of some sort, but the kid usually screens the calls pretty good, so it’s probably real. I dial her number and the sweetest, sexiest, most sensual feminine voice I’ve ever heard answers the phone. I immediately conjure up a picture of some gorgeous female to match the voice, sit back on the couch, and in my sick mind get ready to enjoy a conversation with some sexy supermodel.
After a brief exchange of small talk, she explains that she’s being evicted from her apartment because of her tiny Chihuahua.
“April, is there anything in your lease that prevents you from having a dog live with you in the apartment?”
“No, it’s not that he’s living with me, it’s what he does outside.”
“Okay, I give up. Exactly what does he do outside that is causing your eviction?”
“He does his business.”
Other than the huge beast that lives with us on the boat, I don’t know much about dogs, but if by ‘doing his business,’ she means that he leaves a souvenir on the ground, I can’t imagine Chihuahua droppings as a reason for eviction.
“Why is that causing you to be evicted, April?”
“Well, that’s not exactly what’s causing me to be evicted, but the manager of the apartment building told me that if I didn’t move out, he’d turn me in to the police for multiple violations of the dog dropping laws, and that I’d lose Charlie and probably go to jail.”
Having the brain of a brilliant lawyer, I put two and two together and figure that Charlie must be the little rat she calls a dog.
“April, if the law he’s talking about requires you to pick up your dog’s droppings, have you been doing that?”
“No Mister Sharp, I haven’t. I’ve got a slight problem with my back, and it’s too hard for me to bend over to pick Charlie’s stuff up. Mister Sharp, I’m really worried about this. And I’m not the only one he’s been threatening. There’s a nice older couple living upstairs of me, and he says that they’re moving out too. I don’t see them very often.”
“April, just how old is that ‘older’ couple?”
“Oh my goodness, they must be almost fifty.”
At this point my image of a life with April has just disappeared. She’s obviously a twenty-something bimbo who thinks that everyone over thirty is a senior citizen. Besides, if I were ever to go out with a supermodel, I’d have the fear that if we were involved in an auto accident she’d place a higher priority on her broken nail than on my broken leg.
I tell April that she should call Suzi to make an appointment to come and see us. She tells me that Suzi already told her to come by this afternoon, so she’ll be at the boat in an hour. This gives me some time to try and find out why our law practice has sunk lower than merely ‘going to the dogs,’ we’re now down to the dog droppings.
The answer to today’s mystery is solved when the phone rings and my caller display shows Olive’s cell phone number.
“Hello Olive. Before you ask, I just want you to know that I’m already working on that guy who’s bothering you. We should have some information on him later this week.”
“Oh thanks, Mister Sharp, but I was only calling to see if you had a chance to speak to April.”
“She’s a friend of yours?”
“Well, sort of. I was with Suzi a couple of times when she took Bernie to the dog park, and he’s really friends with Charlie… that’s April’s dog.”
“Yeah, I know. You mean that the huge Saint Bernard and the tiny Chihuahua are friends, and they play together?”
“Oh, yes. They’re great friends. And you know what? After hearing April, I recognized her as being my trainer at the Love Line, that place where I worked doing that phone stuff. She was the one who broke me in, and I tried to sound just like her when talking to the customers. She taught me how to find out the special things that each caller wanted to hear, so that when they called back again, I could pretend like they were special and that I remembered them.”
That answers another question. I’m glad to see that a sweet sexy voice like April’s was put to some good use. My curiosity gets the best of me and I don’t want to wait to find out.
“Olive, would you please tell me what April looks like?”
There’s a slight hesitation on the other end of the phone. I don’t know if Olive’s still there, or if her cell phone dropped the call.
“Olive? You still there?”
“Yes, I’m still here. You wanted to know what April
looks like. Well, let’s say she’s put on a few pounds recently, and it hasn’t exactly helped her appearance any.”
Okay. In a way I’m glad she’s on the chubby side. This will keep me from falling for her when she talks to me.
A large boat must be moving somewhere close to ours, because the Grand Banks is starting to rock in the slip. There’s a megayacht parked at the end of our dock that I’ve been told belongs to George Clooney. Thinking that the rocking is being caused by George’s boat pulling out, I walk over to the window to see if he’s up on the bridge. George’s boat is still there and I now see what’s causing our boat to rock. April is coming up the boarding steps. She walks into the saloon and fills up the room. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone this fat. She must weigh close to five hundred pounds. Charlie is with her, but he immediately runs to the forward stateroom to visit with his friend Bernie, who signaled his presence with a soft whine. I tell April to sit down and relax and offer her a cold glass of water. She broke a sweat coming up our boarding steps. Later on I’ll check to see if she broke the steps too.
I’ll never know how people can possibly let themselves go like this. She probably has no control over her poor complexion, but boy, that body sure needs work. She obviously knows what’s going through my mind, because it’s the same thing that everyone thinks when seeing her for the first time.
“I guess now you can see why I have difficulty picking up Charlie’s droppings.”
“Well April, I don’t have to tell you that it would help if you lost a few pounds, but in the meantime, there are those small dustbins on a pole, like the kind that ushers use in a movie theater to pick up cigarette butts. If you really want one, I’m sure that every pet store has them for sale. Then you won’t have to bend down at all.”
“I know, Mister Sharp, but I don’t think it would help now. The manager told me he’s already got another tenant lined up for my apartment, and also one for the place upstairs where those older folks live.
“You know, the strange thing is, we’re not the only ones in the building with dogs. There’re lots of them. But we’re the only ones he’s picking on.”
This sounds like a coincidence, and I don’t like coincidences. I tell April to write down all the information about her building, how long she’s been there, and any information she has on Mister Miller, the manager.
“April, you can stay here as long as you want this afternoon, because I know that Charlie and Bernie need some time together. I’ve got some errands to run, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking off now.”
“Thank you for helping me, Mister Sharp. About your fee…”
“Oh, you can make those arrangements with Suzi. She usually handles things like that.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve already talked to her about it, and we agreed that you would let my boyfriend arrange to take care of it.”
Wow. She’s got a boyfriend. I don’t even want to know what he looks like. Well, that’s another problem I don’t have to worry about. I can always have Tony the cop talk to April’s building manager, and I’m sure that once he sees that .50 caliber cannon of Tony’s, he’ll change his mind and let April stay there. If Suzi gets more than a hundred bucks out of April’s boyfriend, I’ll be happy.
I don’t really have any errands to run this afternoon, but I don’t want to sit and chat with April for another hour or so, and it looks like that’s how long it would take for her to get up enough strength to leave the boat. While I’ve got some time, I might as well take a ride over to her apartment building and see what it looks like.
Most of the buildings in Santa Monica are kept up very nicely, and her two-story apartment building is no exception. It’s less than two blocks away from the ocean, but there’s nothing that blocks most of the building’s view, because the only things between her building and the water are a McDonald’s Restaurant and a couple of large parking lots for some office buildings. The first two levels are for parking, so April lives on what is equivalent to the third floor above the street level.
I follow a delivery person who gets buzzed through the locked front doors, and by walking through the hallways I locate April’s apartment number.
Back outside the building, I look up and discover the particular apartments that April and her upstairs senior citizen neighbors occupy are the only two bedroom corner units with a clear ocean view. The other side of the building has two more units like that, but their ocean view is partially obstructed by some new skyscraper that’s being constructed.
This time, I do it the proper way. I ring the manager’s bell and wait to be buzzed through the doors. He comes out and meets me in the elevator foyer. I don’t like him at first sight. He’s a swarthy guy with a thin moustache and long black oily hair swept back into a ponytail, all covered by a dark porkpie slim-brimmed hat, and he’s wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. If I didn’t know better, I might think that he’s a member of some bebop jazz combo that plays in hip San Francisco basement clubs. His small goatee makes him look like a combination computer image of Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, and Chet Baker. He doesn’t give his name or offer his hand. There’s a terse greeting.
“I’m the manager here. What do you want?”
What a charmer this guy is. Now that all forms of professional courtesy have been eliminated, I get right to business.
“I’m moving out here from Chicago in a month or two for an assignment, and I’ll be needing a two bedroom apartment for at least a year. Money is no object, because the studio is paying for it, and I’d like to see the ocean. What have you got?”
He rubs his chin while sizing me up. “You say money’s no object, huh? Because we have to pay big relocation fees to anyone asked to move before their lease is up.”
I don’t believe it. He’s so sleazy that at the mention of money, he jumps right up for the bait. I know that April’s paying around eighteen hundred a month for her apartment, so I’ve got some idea of what to dangle in front of his face. “Listen, the studio is giving me an allowance of three grand a month for an apartment and a ten grand moving bonus, so just let me know what you’ve got and when I can get it, and we can do some business. No questions asked.”
He looks at me like I’m too good to be true. “Well, I may have just what you’re looking for. Will a third floor or a high second floor do? I’ve got two corner units that are coming up soon, and we’re now in the process of negotiating the relocation fees.”
This is really interesting, because from what April told me, there’s no money for moving out early – only the avoidance of criminal prosecution for dog droppings. This guy’s obviously got some scam going to make extra money at the tenants’ expense. Now all I have to do is prove it, and April will be off the hook, as will her ‘senior citizen’ neighbors upstairs, who are sadly only about six years older than me.
He hands me his business card and tells me to check back with him in the next week or so. All that’s on the card is his name ‘David Miller’ and a phone number.
Considering the high amount of her rent and how much April must eat to maintain that frame of hers, she must make pretty good money working for the phone sex company. Boy, if those lonely, desperate, horny guys only knew who was on the other end of the line, I’ll bet that would change their mood. I’ve seen some of the newspaper ads for those sex lines, and it’s amazing that men calling in really believe they’re talking to the girls in the pictures instead of girls who look like April.
*****
Back at the boat there’s a note on my desk, telling me that I have an appointment at the Venice Soundstage on Boccaccio Street, to meet with a man named Joe Caulfield. He’s April’s boyfriend, and we’re supposed to discuss her legal fee.
Just as I’m leaving the boat, the phone rings and I see Stuart’s number on my caller ID display.
“Hey Stu, what’s up?”
“I just got back from the East Coast, and this time I may have stumbled onto the greatest moneymaking opportunity of a lifet
ime.”
“That’s great, Stu, but I’m just leaving the boat for an appointment. Let’s get an early bite, and you can tell me all about it.”
I knew this would be happening some time around now. Stuart hasn’t come up with anything new for almost seven months now and he’s definitely behind schedule.
*****
The Venice Soundstage is in a small nondescript building on a side street off of Abbot Kinney Boulevard, and there is no sign outside giving any indication that it’s connected to the entertainment industry. This is quite common in Venice, because from what I’ve been told, everyone from Julia Roberts to Governor Schwarzenegger has a business, office, loft, or residence in this neighborhood, and they all like to keep as low a profile as possible. (Except for ‘Arnold,’ with his restaurant Schatzi on Main Street).
Inside, there’s a small office in front and then a five-foot wide hallway that leads back to a four-foot wide door with a small window in it. Peering through, I see that there’s a small soundstage in there, complete with quite a few lights on stands and hanging from the high ceiling, cameras on tripods, and lots of cable on the floor connecting everything together. The walls are covered with some dark gray sound-absorbing foam, and when opening the big door and walking in, I’m surprised to see that the set they’re using looks just like a courtroom.
Someone finally notices me and walks over. When I tell her I’m there to meet with Joe Caulfield, she tells me that he’s the associate producer and points him out to me. I’m surprised to see that he’s not huge like his girlfriend is. He’s not white like her either. When I tell him who I am, he calls me aside and we walk out the back door of the soundstage to the alley, for some privacy.
“Thanks for coming by Mister Sharp. I really appreciate what you’re doing to help out April. She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she?”
Here’s an attractive black guy who’s in the entertainment business. When first looking around the soundstage I saw several good looking slender young starlets, both white and black, but he prefers big April. Go figure.
Until Proven Innocent Page 3