Strobert chuckled. “You’re more than fine, or at least your partner is. Lynn made such an impression on the Harvard Unholy Alliance, Jacoby called in a favor at our LA firm storefront. The senior partner is supposed to pressure Lynn into playing nice with the banditos. Harold Cunningham’s one of ours. His son knows Jacoby, but his part in all this will not be revealed. I told him Lynn would make a good impression. You two are surpassing anything I had envisioned or hoped for.”
“Hey Lynn, I think Denny’s sweet on you. Anyway, you’ve certainly made the next part easier, Denny. We were just wondering how to allow an approach by those dweebs in the bar. Thanks. We’ll give you a complete rundown tomorrow.”
Strobert smiled. “Until that time, hoss. I texted Sam Reeves and let him know about your progress. Sam texted back his thanks, and let me know that you and Lynn were playing Batman and Robin in Bakersfield.”
“Just two concerned citizens standing up for the rights of families everywhere not to be robbed and harassed by goons. Sam was very happy with us because no one died. Believe me. That took a lot of effort on my part. Lynn wanted to stake them through the heart, cut their heads off, and burn the bodies.”
Montoya nearly choked up her sip of martini. “Did not!”
Strobert laughed. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“You’re a lot more entertaining than I remember.”
Dostiene toasted her. “I can’t hold a candle to you, but I do want to try and be more than a one trick pony. I don’t want you taking off on me out of sheer boredom.”
“I doubt that will happen.” Lynn reached down and began easing the hem of her dress up with the free hand not holding a drink. “Ever make love against a balcony railing, cowboy?”
“Not until now, baby,” Clint whispered, as he set their drinks aside, and eased up tightly against her.”
* * *
“There’s the sentry,” Holt whispered to Jacoby and Kosygin as they walked toward the bar. “I’m glad we decided not to wait in the bar like idiots for her to come down. She makes him stay in uniform. That’s helpful. I bet he doesn’t like being positioned outside the bar at her whim.”
“It would still be a disadvantage if he were hanging around at the reunion,” Kosygin replied. “We might be able to use him though. He’s just a hired dummy with a cap. If Rich keeps slipping him hundred dollar bills, he’ll think of us favorably when he sees us.”
“Like now,” Jacoby added, pressing the aforementioned hundred dollar bill into the hand of a bored looking Dostiene. “Thank you for the solid tip.”
Clint smiled. “Yes Sir.”
They entered the crowded bar without drawing any more than cursory glances, even though both Kosygin and Holt were dressed in eye catching strapped gowns of black and red. All male eyes continued to flit to the bar, along with many female eyes. Montoya sat or in more accurate terms, reclined in a pose both sultry and provocative. One leg was drawn up, leaving a wide expanse of leg showing in careless comfort. The sleeveless, slit at the thigh, black dress both clung and hung away in all the right spots. She stirred her martini with blonde hair falling loosely around her face in haphazard fashion, deep consideration etched across her features. Classical music spun softly from the excellent speaker system, which at the moment played an aria by Bocelli.
Jacoby indicated a table near Montoya’s perch where she seemed to be ruling over the rest of the room. “Man… she owns the place. Every person in here is aware of her, and yet she is aware of nothing other than her moment.”
Holt glared at Jacoby, but Kosygin shrugged. “Rich is right. You can’t teach that kind of natural poise. It makes her all the more tantalizing, Tara. She’s everything we’ve been hoping for. What are the chances of her falling into our laps like this?”
“Slim and none,” Holt replied. “This is beginning to worry me. I know this is a rather popular law seminar, but to have an old classmate from our Harvard graduating class show up here from an overseas work station has the alarm bells going off. You checked her out, right Rich?”
Jacoby nodded. “I get where you’re coming from, but she made partner in record time through the clients list she grew in Europe. What is it specifically you’re worried about?”
Holt shook her head as if in confusion as the waitress took their order and walked away. “Timing I guess… and she’s just so damn perfect. I want to carve her up like a pot roast. The too good to be true theme keeps playing in my head.”
“You wouldn’t be jealous of Ms. Perfect would you, Tara?”
“No more than I am of that damn Southern Belle act you put on, Cheryl.”
Kosygin smiled, batting her eyes, and holding up a hand under her chin. “Why whatever do you mean, Tara?”
Holt growled, waiting until the waitress served them and Jacoby signed for the check. “When you do that I want to strap you to a table.”
“Our Erin Reeves seems to be affecting us all in a manner we’re not used to,” Jacoby said. “I’ll tell you what, Tara. Let’s just pretend we don’t know she exists. If she comes over to make small talk after the way she originally blew us off, then maybe we should consider letting this particular idea pass.”
“That makes no sense, Rich,” Kosygin objected. “If your phone call worked, why wouldn’t she approach us… if of course she ever emerges from that trance of perfection she’s in?”
“Because she’d be pissed off about getting nudged in our direction, no matter who does it. Good one, Rich. I like it,” Holt agreed. “Let’s wait her out and see what happens.”
Montoya did not make them wait long. She took the last sip of her martini, and lithely moved away from the bar with a smile for the bartender. Every eye tracked her path from the bar, including the Harvard graduates. She never glanced at them. Her unhurried gait, clutching the small black purse in an easy swinging motion lent poetry of movement to Lynn’s exit.
Jacoby sighed. “She’s the real deal. I’ll be back.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kosygin said. “Save our spots, girlfriend.”
“Fuck you, Tinkerbell,” Holt retorted.
Jacoby and Kosygin caught up to Lynn as she cleared the entrance.
“Erin!”
Montoya smiled at the approaching Dostiene before turning toward Jacoby’s voice with what could only be interpreted in body language as bored annoyance. Jacoby waited for Kosygin before taking the last few steps toward Lynn. He waved with a small smile.
“Hi. We talked earlier. I-”
“Richard Jacoby from my grad class at Harvard,” Lynn finished for him with a hand twist. “As I said at our last meeting, small world, only now, annoyingly so.”
“I was wondering if you had heard from my friend at your firm?”
Lynn smiled, but said nothing. Her amused silence put Jacoby immediately on the defensive. She made no effort to expand on their conversation, but only waited.
“Look, Erin,” Jacoby pleaded his case. “We’re only interested in catching up on old times with you. We’ve heard you’ve been overseas since almost after we graduated.”
Montoya laughed. “Okay… let’s get serious here. I barely remember you and your friends, and I know none of you have any reason to recognize me. You’ve done some detective work and found out some facts. Let me make another fact clear: if you think Harold Cunningham orders me into meet ups with grad groupies, you’re mistaken. Cut to the chase. You’re boring the hell out of me.”
Cheryl Kosygin laughed. She held out her hand. “I’m Cheryl Kosygin. We would just like to invite you to the Harvard reunion event coming up. Have you heard about it?”
Lynn hesitated perfectly before grasping Kosygin’s hand in a firm grip. “I’ve heard. We all get the same notices no matter where we are.”
Lynn released Cheryl’s hand with a speculative look. “I’m mildly intrigued. Is this some kind of gag? Why the hell would any of you care whether I went to the Harvard reunion or not?”
Her question caught them flatfooted.
It was obvious they had no idea the question would come up, and their irritated exchange of glances confirmed it.
“You two are so cute,” Lynn said.
“We want to hang with the rich and famous,” Kosygin blurted out. She accompanied her goofy answer with a wide unnatural smile, before giggling in much the same way she did with a scalpel in her hand, while standing over a helpless victim.
Montoya laughed, pointing at Cheryl. “That was funny. I admit I’m curious, but not enough so to adopt you. You bunch seem a little clingy to me.”
“Come have a drink with us,” Jacoby replied. “We’re not as clingy as we seem. We’re impressed. Hell, everyone in the bar back there is impressed just like we are. My friends and I at least have a shared past with you. Maybe we have more in common than you think.”
“I’m going to dine in my room with a little wine. If the three of you would like to join me, I’ll give you one more chance to tell me what the hell it is you want. I bet you already know my room number, don’t you?”
Jacoby shrugged. “Guilty. We’d love to dine with you.”
“Come up in about half an hour,” Lynn said, turning away.
“We looked like idiots, Rich.” Kosygin watched Montoya walk away with Dostiene trailing, her mouth formed into a grimace. “She doesn’t miss much. Most people would be flattered at attention from their peers, especially in a seminar setting like this.”
“Reeves could care less,” Jacoby agreed. “We better come up with something explaining our interest in stalking her or little Erin will boot us out of her room.”
“Come on. Let’s get in with Tara. I think I have an idea. It’s thin, but I think we can sell it. We don’t have anything to lose. Let’s loosen up a little. It’s not like she’s after us for anything. At least we intrigued her enough to get a meal. I can’t tell you how much I want that bitch!”
Jacoby took Kosygin’s arm. “I’m with you on that. C’mon, let Tara hear your idea.”
* * *
Clint leaned against the elevator wall. “You should be outlawed as bait. You’re like those electronic gizmos they outlawed for fishing.”
“I’m more like throwing a stick of dynamite in the lake.”
Dostiene cracked up. “Yeah, you are. We have to try and narrow the area we use you in because of collateral damage. That was an interesting play inviting them to the room, and putting pressure on them to come up with a believable lie.”
Lynn sighed happily. “Let the games begin.”
* * *
Dostiene answered the door, still in full uniform, including cap. When he saw it was the unholy trio, he opened the door wide. Not for the first time did Clint harbor dark thoughts about simply eliminating the three perverted monsters. Their pursuit of Lynn proved beyond any doubt what they were up to. While the three entered, Holt smiled at him in a speculative manner. He did not return it. Clint glanced at Lynn, sitting at the room bar in much the same manner she did down in the Hilton bar. Watching her in action like this made Clint’s blood pound. Not for the first time did he wonder at the incredible good fortune that brought them together. Clint shut the door and strode over behind the bar.
Lynn gestured at Clint, without looking at him. “What can he get you to drink? I’m having Champagne, but I believe the barkeep here can make you whatever you desire.” Lynn smiled. “Within reason of course.”
“That sounds good to me,” Holt said, and her companions indicated Champagne would be fine with them also. “You look fantastic, Erin. Thank you for humoring us. I know you must think we’re stalking you or something, but in reality, we have a business investment I believe you’ll find interesting.”
Dostiene served the Champagne with deference befitting his position, and the smooth expertise of someone familiar with all facets needed at times in his true vocation.
“No need to put the sales pitch on,” Lynn told Holt. “I reward persistence if it proves entertaining. I have been considering the Harvard reunion on my own. I did not, however, feel it necessary to share that with anyone. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Kosygin replied. “I’m sorry we came on so strong. We should have simply approached you at the seminar, but it will be crowded as hell, and full of lawyers.”
Lynn chuckled, and held up her glass. “Very good, Cheryl. Don’t bore me with business right now. I’ll hear you out at Harvard. Make your proposal there, but make it very, very, intriguing. To the reunion.”
The unholy trio joined right in. “To the reunion!”
Clint grinned. The toasting scene brought to mind three kids with cap guns baiting a grizzly bear.
* * *
It was only a short trip home. We spent more time in the airport than we did on the plane, which was just fine with me. I popped a few aspirin before we took off. My head throbbed a bit anyway on the flight back home. Pain is my friend, but I like to be able to hit back when I’m enduring it. Our women folk won a little money gaming with Casey’s wife Suzan winning a thousand on a dollar slots payout. Casey didn’t bother telling her he had won a lot more than that on the fight. The swelling went down quite a bit on my eye, but Alice claimed I looked like I lost the fight.
The limo dropped us off last. While I helped the driver with our bags, the Sparks Twins, Jim and Kara came rambling toward us. Alice immediately ran back out of the house to greet them. Minnie-me hatched plots with the twins at every opportunity, along with their cohort from down the street, Darin McBride. Mostly it was Minnie-me directing the show. I waved at Mrs. Sparks as she sauntered up after the kids. She grabbed my chin with a look of distaste.
“My Lord, John, you surely did get marked up this time. Do you wear your Dark Lord mask when someone rearranges your face like this?”
Lora arrived in time to yuck it up with Della Sparks while I paid off our limo driver. “He only has half a face mangled this time, Della. I’m thinking of getting him one of those ‘Phantom of the Opera’ half masks.”
I waited until the ridicule on my behalf dwindled. “Yeah, the ‘Slayer’ got his licks in. Besides, I’m always good for a laugh, right?”
Della’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know, John. A scream might be a better word.”
The twins drifted over with Minnie-me to join in on the festivities. Jim and Kara checked me out with their eyes wide and mouths open. Alice is already giggling, so I’m certain she’s already cooked something up with her peeps.
“Wow, John, Alice is right. You got Gronked,” Jim announces.
Kara peered up at me while Della and Lora laughed. Lora gave Della a quick report on what getting Gronked meant. “I’m sorry you got Gronked, John.”
“I’m okay, Kara. It’s just a little swelling.” I didn’t crouch down or anything. Kara would have probably run for it the way she was looking at me. I was already like the neighborhood troll, only in a good way. People reported stuff to me like a break-in or drug dealers sniffin’ around the neighborhood. If it was something mild, I talked to a few of my friends at the PD. If it was serious, I deposited the problem in an abandoned building or something. Our neighborhood watch had tripled in membership, so we did what we could without getting violent.
One gang-banger put out the word he’d bust a cap up my ass in a drive-by. The PD found him gutted by the side of a building on East 12th Street. No witnesses or evidence could be found. The PD ruled it a homicide, of course, but unsolved. The gang accused me of doing a preemptive hit on their leader to the police. When the laughter died down, they told the gang there wasn’t any evidence of my involvement; but if the bangers really thought I did it, maybe they should take the hint and stay the hell away from me. I put out the word quietly I would exterminate their gang if there were any more threats from anybody in the city. It’s been quiet since then.
“Will your eye turn back to normal?”
I hesitated, because I never think of things like that. I shrugged. “I think so, Kara.”
“You’re not fighting any time soon, are you
, John?”
“I’m done for a while, Della. I’m going to concentrate on the business.”
Della moved closer to Lora and I. “I heard Cinnie Noonan is back in the Bay.”
She’s on our list. A working girl Madam and drug dealer, Cinnie took the next step and killed one of her girls who got out of line. Born and raised in Oakland, Cinnie went into business up in Seattle, where she started her drug distribution and prostitution business. Noonan’s killing of her employee made all the Oakland news outlets, because of the mention she had roots in Oakland. Della had went to school with her, as she had with another notorious and now deceased classmate, Terry Nelson. We have an open ticket on Cinnie. A firm in Seattle took on the parents of the murdered woman’s request to find her killer. They in turn sent the file out to our firm in case she touched home base.
“We have a notice on her,” Lora told Della. “The parents of the woman she murdered want Noonan found and brought to trial. Do you have any idea about her hangouts?”
Della shook her head no. “I stayed away from Cinnie. She was a cold hearted snake, even in high school. I don’t know how she ever made it to graduation. I heard after she got out of school, she made enemies, and that’s why she ended up in Seattle. Any arrest on sight warrant ought to be a shoot on sight order for Cinnie.”
“Thanks for the tip, Della.”
Della waved as she turned toward her house. “You be careful with that one, John.”
“I’m always careful, Della.” That drew laughter from both Lora and Della. I get no respect, even in my own front yard. As I’m carrying the bags in, I’m wondering if Clint and Lynn were done with their serial killer meet up Denny told me about. The way Lora is stalking me, I figure she has her own take on this. “What’s the payday on Cinnie?”
Lora smiled. “Ten thousand is what the reward is. Apprehender keeps eighty percent.”
“Not bad if I can interest our new investigative branch in the operation. I won’t call them direct, but I think I’ll give Denny a call, and see how they’re doing. We may be piling on a little heavy. I don’t want to work them so they pack Tonto up and go walkabout up in the mountains again.”
Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books) Page 53