Love and Lies: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

  She started crying again.

  “He was going to kill me and you killed him. It was horrible. I’m glad you did, but it was horrible.”

  I nodded. “Heidi, you're going to be fine. There're people here who can help you. Doctors you can talk to.”

  She looked doubtful.

  “I promise,” I said. “You'll be okay.”

  Fighting to hold back the tears, she nodded. She took a deep breath. “Is it really over? Is he really gone?”

  “He's really gone and so are all his people. No more bad guys to worry about.”

  “How can I ever repay you, Jake? You risked your life.”

  “Well, if I remember correctly,” I said, “we had a payment plan worked out that involved lunch at Taco Bell.”

  She smiled. “Yes, we did.”

  “As soon as you're better.”

  Chapter 34

  I drove back home, picked up Wilson, and went to the office. It was a little after nine when we got there. Since it was Saturday, Mildred wasn't in. I made myself a cup of tea and called Jessie.

  “Jake,” he said, answering his cell. “How goes the battle?”

  “Score one for the good guys.”

  “Oh?”

  “Pipestone is dead. Couple of his guys, too.”

  “Really. Tell me.”

  “Short version,” I said. “Pipestone kidnapped my neighbor and attempted to exchange her for me. Tortured her in the process. My associate shot two of his people, I shot Pipestone.”

  “So Security Specialists is no more.”

  “Someone else will step in the fill the void,” I said.

  “Sure,” Jessie said. “But we take what we can get when and where we can get it.”

  “I guess,” I said. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know.”

  “I appreciate the call.”

  “I appreciate the information you gave me,” I said. “It was helpful.”

  “Anytime.”

  I sat for a while with Kenny G playing on the stereo and went through the mail. There were a couple of checks from clients who owed me money. There were a couple of bills that needed to be paid. The two checks added up to just a tad more than the bills I needed to pay. Positive cash flow. Fantastic.

  I was restless. I needed to think, but I didn't want to make the effort in a conscious, intentional way. So I asked Wilson if he wanted to go fishing. He woofed that he did.

  I drove home and got my rod and tackle box, and we went to the Malibu pier. Didn't catch anything, but it was a beautiful day, peaceful and relaxing. I hadn't consciously thought about the next step in our investigation, but on the drive home I knew what needed to happen. Monica needed to dig as deeply as she could into Kraft's background. I needed to go to Washington to talk to Brandt. I also needed to talk to Alex about an idea I’d had. I was hoping that Alex could to talk to his contacts in the witness relocation program and get me some names and locations of former syndicate people who’d become witnesses for the state and testified against the syndicate.

  It was a little after four when Wilson and I got home. I called Alex.

  “Want to go work out and then get a bite to eat?” I asked.

  “Can't. Got a hot date.”

  “A hot date?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With a woman?” I asked.

  “Yes with a woman. Second date.”

  “Second? You ever been on a second date before?”

  “Sure I have … Once.”

  “My little boy is growing up,” I said.

  “Ha, ha.”

  “Keep your hands to yourself,” I said, “and have her home by midnight.”

  “Let me guess,” Alex said, “you don't have a date tonight, so you thought you'd amuse yourself by harassing me.”

  “Actually,” I said. “that's not too far from the truth.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “However, I thought of something else we need to do.”

  “Okay.”

  “How many people are there out there who made a deal and testified against the syndicate in the last five years?”

  He took a deep breath as he thought. “Five, maybe six, I can think of.”

  “Any way you can get me names and locations so I can talk to them?”

  “Ooo. I don't know about that,” he said, “Witness protection is pretty tight with that sort of information.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Would it hurt to ask?”

  “Never hurts to ask. I can do that Monday.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “About the case?”

  “No, about your many annoying personal habits.”

  “Oh, those. Mostly I’m going to act as if they don’t exist. As for the case, I'm going to Washington and talk to Brandt.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Brandt liked you,” he said, finally. “That’s good. But Washington can be a dangerous place. Be careful.”

  “Always,” I said.

  “Talk to you sometime on Monday, then.”

  “Sure,” I said. Then added, “Hey,”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have a good time tonight.”

  I went to the gym, lifted weights for an hour, stopped for Chinese on the way home, ate, showered and dressed, and went to see Heidi again. Ten hours had made a lot of difference.

  “The doctor says I can go home tomorrow,” Heidi said.

  “That’s great,” I said.

  “I hate to ask,” she said, “but can you give me a ride?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Be happy to.”

  She looked better. There were still some bruises, but the swelling had gone down and her color was returning.

  “You've been awfully good to me through all this,” she said.

  “It's what friends do.”

  She smiled and took my hand. “Thank you.”

  I leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

  “So even though you get to go home, they probably want you to take it easy for a few days before going back to work.”

  “A week the doctor said.”

  “While you're recuperating, maybe you could do me a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Mildred, my office manager and resident dog sitter, is going to be off for three days next week. I need to travel to Washington. I was wondering if Wilson could stay with you while I'm gone.”

  “Sure,” she said, enthusiastically. “He can keep me company.”

  I got Heidi home and settled in Sunday afternoon. I dropped off Wilson Monday morning as I left for the airport. I landed at Reagan International a little after five in the evening, rented a car, found and checked into my hotel, ordered room service, and settled in for an evening of Masterpiece Classic. Brandt had agreed to see me for breakfast Tuesday morning.

  Chapter 35

  “I agree,” Brandt said. “I haven’t seen the actual investigation files, but I have no reason to doubt what you’re telling me.”

  “Why would the Bureau not take the possibility of an informant seriously and do everything possible to discover the truth?” I asked.

  Brandt took a deep breath. He was fifty-something but didn't look anywhere near his age. He was in good shape. With a law degree from Yale, he had a mind for details. He was easy going and fair-minded. I liked him.

  “That’s a complicated question,” Brandt said. “Kraft was the SAC at the time. He may not have been able to admit that he might have had an informant in his office. But just because that’s a possibility doesn’t mean that’s what happened.”

  “What else could it have been?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head.

  We took a moment to eat some of our breakfast. I was trying to decide what to say next. When I made up my mind, I said, “More than one of us who were involved are wondering if Kraft might have been the informant.”

  Brandt thought about that and drank some of his coffee. “It
could have been anyone,” he said. “It could have been me.”

  “That’s true. Was it you?”

  “No. But that would be an interesting scenario, wouldn’t it? At the time, I was head of the Organized Crime Unit. I had knowledge not only of your operation, but of all of them. I was in the perfect position to pass information on to anyone I chose. I could have named my price. Been a rich man. But I didn't.”

  I ate some more of my eggs and hash browns.

  “Why did you sign off on the report that said the operation was poorly planned and executed?”

  “Because unless we could prove there was an informant, there was no other way to write the report. And at the time we couldn't prove anything. We had to close it out and move on.”

  “Did you suspect?” I asked.

  “Of course I did. What I couldn't figure out is why you didn't see it immediately. I figured you were too torn up over losing Elaine to think straight. When you left the Bureau to fight, I knew that was it. You were angry at the world, and probably at yourself, too, and you beat the crap out of anyone stupid enough to get in the cage with you.”

  “That's a good story and a good cover,” I said, ignoring the last part.

  He nodded again and sipped his coffee. “It wasn't me, Jake. But my saying so isn't enough. I understand that. So you investigate. Dig as deep as you can. You need anything, let me know. And when you're satisfied that it wasn't me, if you need help, let me know. If there’s an informant I want him or her exposed.”

  Brandt paid for the meal and left. I stayed for a second cup of tea. I couldn't see Brandt as an informant. It just didn't feel right. I could see Kraft taking money from the mob, but not Brandt. The thought of Kraft reminded me that Monica and I never got around to talking about Kraft in any detail. I looked at my watch. It was five after eight, east coast time. In L.A., it was five after five. She wouldn't be up yet. My flight out wasn't until one, so I had some time to kill.

  I thought about going to the Museum of Natural History, but it didn't open until ten. Apparently, if you didn't have an office to go to, there wasn't much to do in D.C. on Monday at eight a.m. I went back to my hotel room and read.

  At nine fifteen, I called Monica.

  “I just stepped out of the shower,” she said. “I'm naked.”

  “Is there a mirror nearby?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take a look and tell me what you see.”

  “Being too specific would be self-serving,” she said. “So I'll just say that when you finally get around to a private viewing, I'm sure you'll be pleased.”

  “Well, if you look as nice without clothes as you do with clothes, I'm sure I will.”

  I could tell she was smiling. “So other than being able to talk to me while I'm naked,” she said, “why did you call so early?”

  “Aubrey Kraft,” I said.

  “What about him?”

  “I was just wondering if you'd had time to work on him.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Dug up a lot on him already.”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “His money is family money. Trust fund. His great grandfather owned a lot of land that was honeycombed with oil deposits.”

  “Have you been able to check bank records in the past five years?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “That's on today's to-do list. How'd your meeting go with the other guy?”

  “Brandt,” I said. “It was short and he made me feel bad for suspecting him.”

  “A ploy?”

  “I don't think so. He's just a nice guy. He likes me and he understands that I need to investigate him. He said when I was satisfied that he wasn't the informant, he'd help me however he could.”

  “Could it have been him?” Monica asked.

  “Could have been, sure.”

  “But?”

  “It just doesn't feel right. The head of the OCU informing to the syndicate? It's like a B movie plot.”

  “Sometimes life imitates art.”

  “Sometimes. But I'd be shocked if this was one of those times.”

  “But you need to be sure,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “So when I'm through with Kraft, you want me to look into Brandt?”

  “You mind?”

  “Not at all. Happy to help ... so long as I get a couple of dinners out of it.”

  “That's all it's going cost me?” I asked. “A couple of dinners?”

  “Couple of dinners.”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter 36

  At nine thirty, I checked out of my hotel and drove over to the Smithsonian’s museum of natural history. I only had an hour, but I figured I could see a lot of history in an hour.

  I got back to L.A. a little before four. I stopped by Heidi’s apartment and picked up Wilson. He was glad to see me. I thanked Heidi for looking after him. She looked a lot better. More of the swelling had gone down and the bruises had faded. I took Wilson for a walk. When we got back, I called Alex.

  “Hey,” he said. “I didn't get back to you yesterday like I said I would. I'm sorry.”

  “No problem. I assumed something came up.”

  “Yeah. One of my agents got shot.”

  “Who?”

  “New guy named Agalessie,” Alex said. “You don't know him.”

  “What happened?

  “Sports bribery bust. Some guys trying to pay a basketball player at UCLA to shave points. The kid called us. We set up a sting. When we went in, the bad guys started shooting.”

  “Your agent going to be okay?”

  “He's still in critical condition but the doctors think he'll make it.”

  “So it was a rough day, huh?”

  “That was before noon,” Alex said. “At two, I got a call from the assistant director.”

  “Of what?” I asked.

  “Of the FBI.”

  “Zebriski called you?”

  “Directly.”

  I knew why he'd gotten the call. “Who'd he hear it from?”

  “He wouldn't say.”

  “So what'd he want?”

  “He wanted me to disassociate myself from you.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. Alex was my best friend. And he loved being an agent. He was good at it. I didn't want to be the cause of career problems for him.

  “Maybe you should,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? Because of that old gasbag? I don't think so.”

  “He could hurt you, Alex. Could see to it that you got assigned to archives in some backwater sinkhole somewhere.”

  “I don't think so,” Alex said. “I can handle Zebriski. I know stuff. Like J. Edger … except for the women’s clothes. I don’t do women’s clothes.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Look, Jake,” he said, “it hadn't hit me until you connected the dots for me. But now that you have, it's clear to me that there was an informant. There had to be. I don’t know why I didn’t see it. Maybe the same reason you didn’t see it. Maybe subconsciously I couldn’t bring myself to admit that we might have an informant in the agency. I didn’t know. But the official report that said there wasn't, was bogus. And I believe Hanson when he says the syndicate still has someone on the inside. If there's a mole among my people, I need to know … Elaine was my friend, too. We're gonna do this. So let me worry about Zebriski.”

  I smiled. “You're a good friend, Alex. And a good agent. The Bureau's lucky to have you.”

  “You bet it is.”

  “You got time for dinner tonight?” I asked.

  “Yes. I didn't get lunch today. I'm starving.”

  “Where?”

  “How about Cafe 50s?”

  “On Santa Monica Boulevard?”

  That was the one. We agreed to meet at six.

  Our food came just as I finished telling Alex about my breakfast with Brandt. We took a moment to sample what we'd ordered. Tasty.

  “So how do you feel about Brandt?” Alex asked.

 
“I don't think it was him,” I said. “But when Monica finishes with Kraft, she's going to see what she can find ... just to be sure. I assume you’ll put some time in on it as well?”

  “Of course. And while we’re doing that, you're going to see if one of the people who turned state’s witness knows anything about an informant.”

  “If you can point me toward someone to talk to,” I said.

  “I talked to a guy in the US Marshall's office. Neffkey. Daryl Neffkey. I explained that we've got a mole and need to find out who it is. We figure maybe one of the former mob people might know or at least know someone who would know.”

  “And he's willing to work with me even though I'm no longer an agent?”

  “Oops. I forgot to tell him that part,” Alex said.

  “So we're going to deceive the US Marshall's office?”

  “It's not deception if it was an unintentional oversight.”

  “Was it unintentional?” I asked.

  “These fries are really good, aren't they?” he said.

  “Sure. They're delicious.”

  He smiled. “Just go see Neffkey. Introduce yourself and say something like, Alex and I really appreciate this.”

  “I've been undercover,” I said. “I know how to lie.”

  “Aw, don't think of it as lying,” Alex said. “Think of it as helping him feel good about doing the right thing.”

  I smiled and took a bite of my burger. After a moment I said, “Where is Neffkey and when is he expecting me?”

  “Downtown,” Alex said. “Tomorrow. Ten a.m.” He handed me one of his cards with Neffkey’s information written on the back.

  I put it in my shirt pocket and we ate for a while. Then I asked, “So how did your date go?”

  “It was a disaster.”

  “Disaster’s a pretty strong word,” I said.

  “I took her to P.F. Chang's, right? Nice. Turns out she doesn't really like Chinese food all that much, she says. Then she spends the whole evening telling me, first, about her mother's hysterectomy and second, about her best friend, Cynthia, who has an idea for a reality TV show about the heartbreak of women with excessive amounts of facial hair.”

  Fighting a smile, I said, “Are you insensitive to women suffering from hirsutism?”

  “Hirsutism? What's that?”