Relatively Dead

by Cook, Alan

  At first I felt mild disgust, but then it occurred to me this was a poor man’s art gallery. Lord Binghamton, who I’d met in London, had paintings on his walls, some of which featured naked women. Two of the paintings were of me. The primary difference between those paintings and the calendar was he’d paid a lot more money for the paintings. Men were men, whatever their financial situation. Rich men collected art. Poor men collected soft porn. What was the difference? Rich men were praised for supporting the arts. Poor men were ridiculed for being poor.

  The second room we went into had two futons on the floor. This must be the bedroom. Evan collapsed onto one and waved his hand at the other, offering it to me. I again felt apprehension. I’d rather be in the other room. Although the evidence was gone, except for the smell, I gathered this was where he’d been smoking. He was just returning to his lair.

  My intuition again told me he was harmless. I sat down on the futon, cross-legged, like Evan, and then realized my mistake. My jeans were too tight against my crotch, still itching from the poison oak. I changed my position, stretching out my legs and placing them on the floor. My malady, if not the fact we were in his parents’ house, had prevented Rigo and me from being intimate the night before. We cuddled but that was all.

  Evan was wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt worthy of the Grateful Dad and jeans with real holes in the knees, not fake. His eyes were half-closed and he was swaying to the music he’d turned off. I took a few seconds to organize my thoughts before speaking.

  “How long have you and Jason been roommates?”

  He didn’t respond for a few seconds, and I wondered whether he’d heard me. Then he turned his head in my direction without looking directly at me and spoke slowly, with pauses between sentences, slurring his words slightly.

  “About a year. Him and me were buds in college. I got out first and came here. He was more into the academic thing. When he finished he needed a place to crash.” He lifted his hands, palms up, as if to say, “Where else would he go?”

  Jason III got his MBA at UCLA, like Kyle had. Jason II told me. I wondered whether they tolerated bad grammar there. At least Evan was talking. “What did Jason do?”

  “Oh, you know the beach scene. He surfed—”

  “I mean for work.”

  “Are you a cop?”

  “No.”

  “I guess it’s okay then. Don’t tell anybody I told you. He was part of the syndicate.”

  The syndicate? It sounded like the mafia. Should I go there? Well, I was investigating a murder. “Uh…what does the syndicate do?”

  Evan hesitated. “He swore me to secrecy.” He appeared to think, or maybe I was giving him too much credit. After a few seconds he reconnected with reality. “Well, since he’s gone I guess there’s no harm done. It makes investments. With his Master of Big Ass deals, he fit right in. In fact, he helped start it.”

  Jason II hadn’t said anything to me about Jason III being involved in investing. “Tell me how it works.”

  Evan became more animated. “It’s totally cool. I just wish I had some money so I could join it. You invest your money with them and six months later you get double your money back. Greatest thing since sliced baloney.”

  I had talked to several financial advisors about investing my inheritance, but not one mentioned returns like that. “What do they invest in?”

  Evan gave a big shrug and spoke in a singsong voice. “Nobody knows and nobody cares. As long as the money rolls in.”

  That didn’t sound like a good investment strategy. I asked him a few more questions about the syndicate, but I quickly realized his knowledge of it was very limited. He just kept repeating how great it was. I changed the subject.

  “Do you know anybody who’d want to kill Jason? Did he have any enemies?”

  “The cops asked me that. I told them everybody loved Jason.”

  “There were no disgruntled investors?”

  “Told ya. The first investors doubled their money. Would you kill someone who did that?”

  “Did you tell the police about the syndicate?”

  Evan shook his head slowly back and forth. “Nope. Wasn’t relative.” He tried again. “Wasn’t rel-e-vant. Want a toke or two? I’ve got some good stuff…”

  I didn’t want to have anything to do with mind-altering drugs. Because of what I’d been through, I clung to reality. I shook my head.

  “Were you at the party last Friday?”

  An affirmative nod.

  “Did you see…Jason go down the ladder?”

  “Naw. Must have happened while I was dancing. There were some neat chicks…”

  No help there. Besides, the police asked questions like that.

  “Did you see a man at the party with a rash on his hands?”

  “Rash?”

  “You know, red and ugly looking. Maybe big blisters.” When Evan didn’t respond I said, “Creeping crud.” Still nothing. I unbuttoned a couple of buttons on my shirt and pulled it open so he could see the poison oak on my upper chest. “Something like this.”

  That was a mistake. He stared at me, looking directly at me for the first time, as if he expected me to unbutton more buttons. Time to leave. I quickly buttoned up, stood, and walked toward the door.

  “Thanks for your time, Evan. That was very helpful. I can let myself out.”

  Evan mumbled something but he didn’t get up or look at me again. I exited the apartment and headed for the stairs.

  CHAPTER 13

  I found Nelly’s apartment on the second floor and knocked on the door. As I waited, the odor reminiscent of older buildings and deterioration not completely covered by the recent paint job, depressed me. I wouldn’t want to live here. Nelly asked who was there and answered the door when I responded. She ushered me inside.

  The floor plan was probably the same as Evan’s apartment, but there were no other similarities between the two. This was a different world. The walls were painted a bright yellow and hung with prints of well known artists. The furniture was not expensive but very serviceable. The curtains on the window were open and the afternoon sun streamed in. It even smelled good.

  I was amazed. “You’ve made this place look marvelous.” I almost said, “…smell marvelous.”

  Nelly smiled. “Thank you. Sit down.” She indicated a sofa with a wood frame. Would you like some iced tea?”

  “Sure.”

  The kitchen area was at the end of the room in front of the window. Nelly brought two glasses of iced tea and a plate of cookies she placed on a low table, and sat on a chair across from me. I took a sip to clear my throat. Nelly did the same and gave me a quizzical look.

  “How did you get along with the space cadet?”

  “Like you said, he’s a bit weird. But he appears harmless enough.”

  “Yeah, he’s okay. He likes girls, but he’s not obnoxious about it like some of the guys. And half the time he’s too blitzed to actually do anything.”

  “Do you think he could have killed Jason?”

  Nelly’s mouth hung open. Then she started laughing. “He can barely get his shit together enough to feed himself. He’d never be able to plan a murder—and get away with it.”

  “He said he was at the party on Friday.”

  “Yeah, well, half the world was at that party. I was there. That doesn’t make us all murderers.”

  “He said Jason was part of something he called a syndicate for investors.”

  Nelly’s face went blank. She looked at me carefully. “Are you a cop?”

  Why was everyone asking me that question? I spoke too quickly. “No. Why would you think that?”

  “You came in here asking questions, like the police did. Are you sure you’re not a cop?”

  I had to be careful. “I’m not with the police. I am interested in finding out who killed Jason. I know his grandfather. He asked me to look into the murder.”

  “Okay, that begins to make sense. You’re not really a reporter, are you?”

&nbs
p; My first attempt at being undercover and I’d completely blown it. “No.”

  What makes you qualified to investigate Jason’s murder?”

  “Because…because I have some experience doing detective work.” That was true. I helped find my own identity.

  “You’ve got a good natural cover. You look like a model. You could be a ditz but you obviously aren’t. You’re like a Mata Hari or somebody.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, but you saw right through me. I get the feeling nobody has talked to the police about this syndicate.”

  Nelly had a guarded expression. “You won’t tell the police about it, will you?”

  I didn’t want to make any rash statements. “Not if it doesn’t have anything to do with Jason’s murder.”

  “It doesn’t.” Nelly sounded positive. Too positive. She sipped her iced tea and peered at me over the lip of the glass.

  It was too early to rule anything out on Nelly’s say-so. I decided to proceed cautiously. “Evan told me the syndicate doubled investors’ money in six months. I find that hard to believe. I’d like to know how they do it.”

  “That’s why we can’t talk about it to anyone. Nobody else knows about it. It’s private.”

  Very private. The police didn’t know about it, and, apparently, Jason II didn’t either.

  “Anyway, it works. The first investors got double their money back.”

  “Are you part of the syndicate?”

  “I’m…an investor.”

  “Then you’re the right person to tell me how the syndicate doubles people’s money in six months.”

  Nelly hesitated. She looked embarrassed. “It’s so secret they won’t even tell the investors.”

  “So you don’t know what they’re doing with your money. Doesn’t that worry you?”

  “These are good guys. And gals. They wouldn’t steer us wrong.”

  Famous last words. I changed my tone. “Sounds interesting if they can really do it. Are they looking for new investors?”

  Nelly’s red eyebrows went up. “You?”

  “I’ve got a little money saved. I mean, who wouldn’t want to double their money in six months?”

  Nelly appeared to think. “All right, I trust you. There’s a recruitment party tonight on the roof. I can fix it so you can go.”

  “A party to recruit new investors?” When Nelly nodded I remembered Jason had been murdered last Friday night—at a party on the roof of this apartment house. Today was Friday. “Did Jason die at a recruitment party?”

  Another almost imperceptible nod. “They don’t call it a recruitment party.”

  “Are the police okay with having another party since Jason died at one?”

  “Sure, so long as the building owner is. He comes to the parties. I think he’s an investor in the syndicate.”

  “What do they call the party if it isn’t a recruitment party?”

  “Just a party. TGIF. Happy end of the work week. Booze and screw. They want people to come, but only big spenders.”

  “Whatever they call it, if Jason died at one, how can you be sure there’s no connection?”

  Nelly looked worried. I suspected she was concerned about her own money.

  “It was—a coincidence. It had to be. The syndicate is working fabulously.”

  “Whoever killed Jason just happened to be at the party, but he—or she—had nothing to do with the syndicate?”

  “Yeah.” Nelly tried to smile. “I know it sounds weak. I’m no dummy. But I don’t see how they could be connected.”

  “You said you were you at the party last Friday. Did you see anything unusual about Jason?”

  She hesitated. “No. And I didn’t see him fall.”

  “Did you see a man with blisters or a rash on his hands?”

  She thought about that. “Not that I can recall. Why? Do you know something nobody else knows?”

  “Not really. Okay, we’ll pass on that for now. Are you going to this party?”

  “Yes. There’s free food and drink, music, rich guys. Who knows, one of them might fall in love with me.” She laughed.

  “And the syndicate group wants you there?”

  “Yes.”

  When Nelly didn’t expand on that statement, immediately, I sipped her iced tea and waited her out, a trick I’d learned from some of the people I’d interacted with when I was trying to recover my identity. Maybe they just wanted Nelly as candy for the male prospects, but I suspected it was more than that.

  Nelly looked uncomfortable. After some seconds she spoke. “Okay, you win. I shouldn’t tell you this, but if I help recruit a new investor I get a cut.”

  “You get a finder’s fee?” Interesting. “You can take me to the party then, but I don’t promise to invest.”

  “All right. We should go now before the crowds arrive.”

  Nelly was obviously happy I was going to the party. I felt a bit guilty because I suspected this was because she thought she might get a finder’s fee. She stripped down to her underwear and pulled a short skirt and low-cut top out of her closet. Shy she wasn’t.

  I suddenly had second thoughts. I’d conveniently forgotten that to get to the roof I had to climb the fire escape ladder. I started to shake. I accosted Nelly who was putting on a necklace, and told her about my acrophobia.

  “Isn’t there another way to get to the roof?”

  Nelly was unsympathetic. “The ladder is safe. They check it all the time. I’ve climbed it often. You’ll be fine.”

  “Jason fell off it.”

  “He was shot. Just watch how much you drink.”

  I wasn’t comforted. How could I get out of this mess? Of course, I could simply walk away. But that wouldn’t solve Jason’s murder. What I did now would show what I was made of. I looked at what Nelly was wearing.

  “Won’t guys be watching when you climb the ladder? They’ll see up your skirt.”

  “Yeah.” Nelly gave a little smile. “Look, I’m going to act slutty while I have the chance. I’m getting married in six months. Then I have to become a model wife.”

  Trolling for rich men and acting slutty while she was engaged. She wasn’t wearing a ring. “Your fiancé…?”

  “…is stationed somewhere in the Middle East. What he’s doing is classified, top secret, not for my eyes only, but he’s due back in a few months. Alive, hopefully. I didn’t want him to go.” The last was said with a pensive look, but then she became animated again. “Would you like to borrow one of my skirts? If I do say so, you’re dressed pretty conservatively for someone with your looks.”

  “I’ve got poison oak.” I unbuttoned the same shirt buttons I’d unbuttoned for Evan, but with a different result. Nelly merely glanced at my chest and agreed I’d better stay covered.

  CHAPTER 14

  Nelly and I went upstairs to the fourth floor balcony. I borrowed a sweater from her because I knew it would be cool on the roof. I also wore my dark glasses to disguise my face, in case the scammer was there. I didn’t know what I’d do when the sun set. Nelly, with her flimsy top, claimed she never got cold. Must be her Irish heritage.

  The door to the balcony was open, and a young man stood on the small platform. I stopped in the doorway and saw that the floor of the balcony consisted of metal strips with gaps in between. The metal railing around it had even bigger gaps. I could look down and see the concrete walkway three stories below, crowded with Friday evening strollers. There was a hole in the floor right in front of me where a steep staircase that was part of the fire escape system led down to the next level.

  I froze. “I’m not going out there.”

  Nelly, who had preceded me onto the balcony, was greeting the man with a hug. “Chas. Good to see you. This is Aiko. She’s looking for a good investment. Aiko, this is Chas.”

  Chas came to the doorway and stuck out his hand. “Hi, Aiko. Great to meet you.”

  I shook his hand, weakly, trembling. I did manage to notice he didn’t have a rash on his hands. He wasn’t the sca
mmer. He was one of the people who ran the syndicate. Nelly had mentioned several names.

  “I’m afraid of heights.”

  “Don’t look down.”

  I peeked around the corner of the doorway at the ladder to the roof. It looked as exposed from here as it had from the ground. “Isn’t there another way to get to the roof? There must be a stairway. I’m sure you don’t take your food up the ladder.”

  “It’s not so hard. I’ll follow you up and catch you if you fall.”

  I faked a laugh. He wouldn’t be able to catch me if I fell. We would both end up on the sidewalk, splattered. We might even take some walkers with them. He was counting on the fact that I looked fit and athletic. Looked better than I felt. Chas still held my hand. He gently pulled. Against my better judgment I stepped onto the balcony.

  I saw Nelly step on the first rung of the ladder and then scamper up in a few seconds. Chas watched her too. I was sure he would agree she had nice legs. Why was Nelly better than I was? If Nelly could climb the ladder, I could. I forced myself to go to the foot of the ladder. I grabbed a rung firmly in each hand and started up, step by step, without looking down.

  It was the longest fifteen seconds of my life. I was sure the ladder was going to pull away from the wall, hurtling Chas and me, who was following, to the sidewalk. It didn’t. We made the roof safely. I turned, shaking with relief, and thanked Chas who was still on the ladder.

  “No problem. I have to go down and help other people up. Enjoy the party. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I turned and surveyed the roof. It was flat and covered with a nonskid material. The lip along the edge wouldn’t keep anyone from falling, but I didn’t intend to get close to the edge. A small room stuck up from the roof. Although it was early, some people were already there. A table in the center was covered with hors d’oeuvres, and a bartender served drinks at an adjoining table. A band was setting up shop in a corner.