Ralph reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I think you’re remarkable, Vic. I like your style. Dick sounds like an ass. Don’t give up on us men just because of him.”
I smiled and squeezed his hand in return. “I know. But-I’m a good detective, and I’ve got an established name now. And it’s not a job that’s easy to combine with marriage. It’s only intermittently demanding, but when I’m hot after something, I don’t want to be distracted by the thought of someone at home stewing because he doesn’t know what to do about dinner. Or fussing at me because Earl Smeissen beat me up.”
Ralph looked down at his empty plate, nodding thoughtfully. “I see.” He grinned. “Of course, you might find a guy who’d already done the children-and-suburbia number who would stand on the sidelines cheering your successes.”
Tim came back to take dessert orders. I chose Ahab’s spectacular ice-cream-and-cordial dessert. I hadn’t eaten all my fish, and I was sick of being virtuous anyway. Ralph decided to have some too.
“But I think this Earl Smeissen business would take a lot of getting used to,” he added after Tim had disappeared again.
“Aren’t there any dangers to claim handling?” I asked. “I would imagine you’d come across fraudulent claimants from time to time who aren’t too happy to have their frauds uncovered.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “But it’s harder to prove a fraudulent claim than you might think. Especially if it’s an accident case. There are lots of corrupt doctors out there who will happily testify to nonprovable injuries-something like a strained back, which doesn’t show up on an X ray-for a cut of the award.
“I’ve never been in any danger. Usually what happens if you know it’s a blown-up claim, and they know you know, but no one can prove it either way, you give them a cash settlement considerably below what it would be if it came to court. That gets them off your back-litigation is very expensive for an insurance company, because juries almost always favor the claimant, so it’s really not as shocking as it sounds.”
“How much of there is that?” I asked.
“Well, everyone thinks the insurance company is there to give them a free ride-they don’t understand that it all comes out in higher rates in the end. But how often do we really get taken to the cleaners? I couldn’t say. When I was working in the field, my gut sense was that maybe one in every twenty or thirty cases was a phony. You handle so many, though, that it’s hard to evaluate each one of them properly-you just concentrate on the big ones.”
Tim had brought the ice cream, which was sinfully delicious. I scraped the last drops out of the bottom of my dish. “ I found a claim draft lying around an apartment the other day. It was an Ajax draft, a carbon of one. I wondered if it was a real one.”
“You did?” Ralph was surprised. “Where did you find it? In your apartment?”
“No. Actually, in young Thayer’s place.”
“Do you have it? I’d like to see it.”
I picked my bag up from the floor and got the paper out of the zippered side compartment and handed it to Ralph. He studied it intently. Finally he said, “This looks like one of ours all right. I wonder what the boy was doing with that on him. No claim files are supposed to go home with you.”
He folded it and put it in his wallet. “This should go back to the office.”
I wasn’t surprised, just pleased I’d had the forethought to make Xeroxes of it. “Do you know the claimant?” I asked.
He pulled out the paper again and looked at the name. “No, I can’t even pronounce it. But it’s the maximum indemnity payment for this state, so he must be on a total disability case-either temporary or permanent. That means there should be a pretty comprehensive file on him. How did it get so greasy?”
“Oh, it was lying on the floor,” I said vaguely.
When Tim brought the check, I insisted on splitting it with Ralph. “Too many dinners like this and you’ll have to give up either your alimony or your apartment.”
He finally let me pay my part of the bill. “By the way, before they kick me out for not paying the rent, would you like to see my place?”
I laughed. “Sure, Ralph. I’d love to.”
13
The Mark of Zav
Ralph’s alarm went off at 6:30; I cracked my eyes briefly to look at the clock and then buried my head under the pillows. Ralph tried burrowing in after me, but I kept the covers pulled around my ears and fought him off successfully. The skirmish woke me up more thoroughly. I sat up. “Why so early? Do you have to be at the office at seven thirty?”
“This isn’t early to me, baby: when I lived in Downers Grove I had to get up at five forty-five every day-this is luxury. Besides, I like morning-best time of the day.”
I groaned and lay down again. “Yeah, I’ve often said God must have loved mornings, he made so many of them. How about bringing me some coffee?”
He got out of bed and flexed his muscles. “Sure thing, Miss Warshawski, ma’am. Service with a smile.”
I had to laugh. “If you’re going to be so full of pep this early in the day, I think I’ll head back north for breakfast.” I swung my legs out of bed. It was now the fourth morning since my encounter with Earl and his boys, and I scarcely felt a twinge. Clearly, exercising paid off. I’d better get at it again-it would be easy to get out of the habit on the excuse that I was an invalid.
“I can feed you,” Ralph said. “Not lavishly, but I’ve got toast.”
“Tell you the truth, I want to go running this morning before I eat. I haven’t been out for five days, and it’s easy to go downhill if you don’t keep it up. Besides, I have a teen-age guest at Lotty’s, and I ought to go see how she’s doing.”
“Just as long as you aren’t importing teen-age boys for some weird orgy or other, I don’t mind. How about coming back here tonight?”
“Mmm, maybe not. I’ve got to go to a meeting tonight, and I want to spend some time with Lotty and my friend.” I was still bothered by Ralph’s persistence. Did he want to keep tabs on me, or was he a lonely guy going after the first woman he’d met who turned him on? If Masters were involved in the deaths of John and Peter Thayer, it wasn’t impossible that his assistant, who had worked for him for three years, was involved as well.
“You get to work early every morning?” I asked.
“Unless I’m sick.”
“Last Monday morning, too?” I asked.
He looked at me, puzzled. “I suppose. Why do you ask-Oh. When Peter was shot. No, I forgot: I wasn’t in early that morning. I went down to Thayer’s apartment and held him down while Yardley shot him.”
“Yardley get in on time that morning?” I persisted.
“I’m not his goddamn secretary!” Ralph snapped. “He doesn’t always show up at the same time-he has breakfast meetings and crap-and I don’t sit with a stopwatch waiting for him to arrive.”
“Okay, okay. Take it easy. I know you think Masters is purity personified. But if he were doing something illegal, wouldn’t he call on you, his trusty henchman, for help? You wouldn’t want him relying on someone else, someone less able than you, would you?”
His face relaxed and he gave a snort of laughter. “You’re outrageous. If you were a man, you couldn’t get away with crap like that.”
“If I were a man, I wouldn’t be lying here,” I pointed out. I held out an arm and pulled him back down into the bed, but I still wondered what he’d been doing Monday morning.
Ralph went off to shower, whistling slightly. I pulled the curtains back to look outside. The air had a faint yellow tinge. Even this early in the morning the city looked slightly baked. The break in the weather was over; we were in for another hot, polluted spell.
I showered and dressed and joined Ralph at the table for a cup of coffee. His apartment included one large room with a half wall making a partially private eating area. The kitchen must have once been a closet: stove, sink, and refrigerator were stacked neatly, allowing room to stand and work, but not enoug
h space even for a chair. It wasn’t a bad-looking place. A large couch faced the front entrance, and a heavy arm-chair stood pulled back from the windows at right angles to it. I’d read somewhere that people who lived in rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows keep the furniture pulled back away from them-some illusion of falling if you’re right up against the glass. A good two feet lay between the chair back and the lightly curtained windows. All the upholstery and the curtains were in the same light floral pattern. Nice for a prefurnished place.
At 7:30 Ralph stood up. “I hear those claims calling me,” he explained. “I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow, Vic.”
“Fine,” I said. We rode down in the elevator in amiable silence. Ralph walked me to my car, which I’d had to park near Lake Shore Drive. “Want a ride downtown?” I asked. He declined, saying he got his exercise walking the mile and a half to Ajax each day.
As I drove off, I could see him moving down the street in my rearview mirror, a jaunty figure despite the close air.
It was only eight when I got back to Lotty’s. She was having toast and coffee in the kitchen. Jill, her oval face alive and expressive, was talking animatedly, a half-drunk glass of milk in front of her. Her innocent good spirits made me feel old and decadent. I made a face at myself.
“Good morning, ladies. It’s a stinker outside.”
“Good morning, Vic,” said Lotty, her face amused. “What a pity you had to work all night.”
I gave her a playful punch on the shoulder. Jill asked, “Were you really working all night?” in a serious, worried voice.
“No, and Lotty knows it. I spent the night at a friend’s place after doing a little work. You have a pleasant evening? How were the enchiladas?”
“Oh, they were great!” Jill said enthusiastically. “Did you know that Carol has been cooking since she was seven?” She giggled. “I don’t know how to do one useful thing, like ironing or even making scrambled eggs. Carol says I’d better marry someone with lots of money.”
“Oh, just marry someone who likes to cook and iron,” I said.
“Well, maybe you can practice on some scrambled eggs tonight,” Lotty suggested. “Are you going to be here tonight?” she asked me.
“Can you make it an early dinner? I’ve got a seven thirty meeting down at the University of Chicago-someone who may be able to help me find Anita.”
“How about it, Jill?” Lotty asked.
Jill made a face. “I think I’ll plan on marrying someone rich.” Lotty and I laughed. “How about peanut butter sandwiches?” she suggested. “I already know how to make those.”
“I’ll make you a fritata, Lotty,” I promised, “if you and Jill will pick up some spinach and onions on your way home.”
Lotty made a face. “Vic is a good cook, but a messy one,” she told Jill. “She’ll make a simple dinner for four in half an hour, but you and I will spend the night cleaning the kitchen.”
“Lotty!” I expostulated. “From a fritata? I promise you-” I thought a minute, then laughed. “No promises. I don’t want to be late for my meeting. Jill, you can clean up.”
Jill looked at me uncertainly: Was I angry because she didn’t want to make dinner? “Look,” I said, “you don’t have to be perfect: Lotty and I will like you even if you have temper tantrums, don’t make your bed, and refuse to cook dinner. Okay?”
“Certainly,” Lotty agreed, amused. “I’ve been Vic’s friend these last fifteen years, and I’ve yet to see her make a bed.”
Jill smiled at that. “Are you going detecting today?”
“Yes, up to the North Side. Looking for a needle in a haystack. I’d like to have lunch with you, but I don’t know what my timetable is going to be like. I’ll call down to the clinic around noon, though.”
I went into the guest room and changed into shorts, T-shirt, and running shoes. Jill came in as I was halfway through my warm-up stretches. My muscles had tightened up in response to their abuse, and I was having to go more slowly and carefully than normal. When Jill came in, I was sweating a little, not from exertion, but from the residual pain. She stood watching me for a minute. “Mind if I get dressed while you’re in here?” she asked finally.
“No,” I grunted. “Unless-you’d feel more-comfortable-alone.” I pulled myself upright. “You thought about calling your mother?”
She made a face. “Lotty had the same idea. I’ve decided to be a runaway and stay down here.” She put on her jeans and one of her man-sized shirts. “I like it here.”
“It’s just the novelty. You’ll get lonesome for your private beach after a while.” I gave her a quick hug. “But I invite you to stay at Lotty’s for as long as you like.”
She laughed at that. “Okay, I’ll call my mom.”
“Atta girl. ‘Bye, Lotty,” I called, and started out the door. Sheffield Avenue is about a mile from the lake. I figured if I ran over to the lake, eight blocks down to Diversey and back again, that would give me close to four miles. I went slowly, partly to ease my muscles and partly because of the stifling weather. I usually run seven-and-a-half-minute miles, but I tried to pace it at about nine minutes this morning. I was sweating freely by the time I got to Diversey, and my legs felt wobbly. I cut the pace going north, but I was so tired I wasn’t paying too much attention to the traffic around me. As I left the lake path, a squad car pulled out in front of me. Sergeant McGonnigal was sitting in the passenger seat.
“Good morning, Miss Warshawski.”
“Morning, Sergeant,” I said, trying to breathe evenly.
“Lieutenant Mallory asked me to find you,” he said, getting out of the car. “He got a call yesterday from the Winnetka police. Seems you fast-talked your way past them to get into the Thayer house.”
“Oh, yeah?” I said. “Nice to see so much cooperation between the suburban and the city forces.” I did a few toe touches to keep my leg muscles from stiffening.
“They’re concerned about the Thayer girl. They think she should be home with her mother.”
“That’s thoughtful of them. They can call her at Dr. Herschel’s and suggest that to her. Is that why you tracked me down?”
“Not entirely. The Winnetka police finally turned up a witness to the shooter’s car, though not to the shooting.” He paused.
“Oh, yeah? Enough of an ID to make an arrest?”
“Unfortunately the witness is only five years old. He’s scared silly and his parents have roped him around with lawyers and guards. Seems he’d been playing in the ditch alongside Sheridan Road, which was a no-no, but his folks were asleep, so he sneaked out. That’s apparently why he went-because it’s off limits. He was playing some crazy game, you know how kids are, thought he was stalking Darth Vader or something, when he saw the car. Big, black car, he says, sitting outside the Thayer house. He decided to stalk it when he saw a guy in the passenger seat who scared the daylights out of him.”
McGonnigal stopped again to make sure I was following. He emphasized his next words carefully. “He finally said-after hours of talk, and many promises to the parents that we wouldn’t subpoena him or publish the news-that what scared him about the guy was that Zorro had got him. Why Zorro? It seems this guy had some kind of mark on his face. That’s all he knows: He saw it, panicked, and ran for his life. Doesn’t know if the guy saw him or not.”
“Sounds like a good lead,” I commented politely. “All you have to do is find a big black car and a man with a mark on his face, and ask him if he knows Zorro.”
McGonnigal looked sharply at me. “We police are not total idiots, Miss Warshawski. It’s not something we can take to court, because of promising the parents and the lawyers. Anyway, the testimony isn’t very good. But Zorro-you know, Zorro’s mark is a big Z, and the lieutenant and I wondered if you knew anyone with a big Z on his face?”
I felt my face twitch. Earl’s gofer, Tony, had had such a scar. I shook my head. “Should I?”
“Not too many guys with that kind of mark. We thought it might be Tony Bronsky.
He got cut like that by a guy named Zav who objected to Tony taking away his girl friend seven-eight years ago. He hangs around Earl Smeissen these days.”
“Oh?” I said. “Earl and I aren’t exactly social friends, Sergeant-I don’t know all his companions.”
“Well, the lieutenant thought you’d like to know about it. He said he knew you’d sure hate for anything to happen to the little Thayer girl while you were looking after her.” He got back into his car.
“The lieutenant has a fine sense of drama,” I called after him. “He’s been watching too many Kojak reruns late at night. Tell him that from me.”
McGonnigal drove off and I walked the rest of the way home. I’d completely lost interest in exercise. Lotty and Jill had already left. I took a long, hot shower, easing my leg muscles and thinking over McGonnigal’s message. It didn’t surprise me that Earl was involved in John Thayer’s death. I wondered if Jill really was in any danger, though. And if she was, was she worse off with Lotty and me? I toweled dry and weighed myself. I was down two pounds, surprising with all the starch I’d been eating lately.
I went into the kitchen to squeeze some orange juice. There was one way in which Jill was worse off with me, I realized. If Earl decided I needed to be blown away completely, she’d make a perfect hostage for him. I suddenly felt very cold.
Nothing I was doing was getting me anyplace-unless Thayer’s execution could be called a destination. I couldn’t tie McGraw to Masters or Thayer. I didn’t have a clue about Anita. The one person who might supply me with anything was McGraw, and he wouldn’t. Why the hell had he come to me in the first place?
On impulse I looked up the Knifegrinders’ number in the white pages and dialed. The receptionist transferred me to Mildred. I didn’t identify myself but asked for McGraw. He was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed.
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