03_Cornered Coyote

by Dianne Harman

  “I’m here to see Mrs. Shapiro,” he said to the attractive Hispanic receptionist with a wide smile who was showing plenty of cleavage.

  Must have a lot of male customers to let her dress like that. Nice view.

  “Do you have an appointment, sir?”

  “No, jes’ tell her Slade Kelly, a friend of Chico’s, is here to see her.”

  The receptionist picked up her phone, dialed a number, and gave Maureen’s administrative assistant the message. She listened for a few moments, hung up, and told Slade to take the private elevator at the far end of the hall to the top floor. He looked across the expanse of highly polished white and pink striated marble and saw the brass elevator doors, thinking that business at the bank must be good.

  “Thanks, Doll.” His stomach lurched as he soared to the top of the twenty-eight story building. The doors opened to a view of the Los Angeles skyline partially hidden by a thick brown blanket of smog. As he stepped off the elevator he was welcomed by a long line of big suites with glass doors that separated them from the hallway. He opened the door marked “Reception.”

  “Hi, I’m Slade Kelly,” he said to a young woman in a conservative dark blue suit sitting at the reception desk. “I’ve got an appointment with Mrs. Shapiro.”

  “Yes, she told me to show you in immediately. Follow me.” She stood up and led him down a long hall. He couldn’t help but notice her shapely ass and the sensuous motion beneath her skirt as she walked in front of him. When she reached the end of the hall, she opened a heavy mahogany door with big, highly polished brass letters that spelled out the words “Maureen Shapiro, Senior Vice-President.”

  Must be some dick ‘round here doin’ nuthin’ but polishin’ all this brass. Now there’s a niche job. Wonder what people think when they see that on some guy’s resume?

  An imposing looking older woman with her grey hair pulled back in a bun sat at a large cherry wood desk. “I’m Mrs. Shapiro’s administrative assistant. I assume you’re Mr. Kelly,” she said, standing up. “Please come this way.”

  She walked to the back of her office and knocked on a door. “Come in,” a woman’s voice answered. Slade entered the office and looked around. Huge windows provided a 180 degree view of Los Angeles. Several couches and chairs in different shades of grey were placed around a cherry wood conference table which could easily seat twenty. A crystal vase sat in the center, filled with pebbles supporting stems bursting with flowering pink and white orchids.

  A woman in her late ‘30’s walked toward him and held out her hand. Thick auburn hair in a shoulder-length blunt cut framed her heart-shaped face, brilliant green eyes, and generous lips. She wore a dark grey silk blouse tucked into a grey and cream pinstripe suit skirt. A simple gold necklace with a large diamond drop hung from it. The hand she held out to him was soft with perfectly groomed nails finished in a French silk wrap. “Hello, Slade, it’s been a long time since we used to see each other at the Holy Family Church. Your visit is a surprise. Would you care to fill me in?”

  “Doll, why don’t you take a look at this before we start?” He handed her a piece of paper and looked around the room. In the corner he saw a full bar with a cut glass decanter on it as well as fresh coffee and china cups and saucers.

  She read the words written on the piece of paper, walked over to her large desk, and pressed a switch under it. “There, the tape recorder’s off. Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “Better sit down, Maureen. I’m a voice from your past, a voice you probably don’t want anyone to hear.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She motioned to two burgundy and cream upholstered plaid chairs in front of a coffee table with a beveled glass inlay. “Tell me why you’re here.”

  “Sure, Doll. I’m an old friend of Chico’s and I’ve got a favor to ask of you. You do remember Chico, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t talked to him in two decades. A lot has happened since then. And from what I know, a lot has happened to him, too.” Although she spoke in a calm manner, her tightly clasped hands betrayed her inner nervousness.

  “Well, Doll, here’s the deal. Chico never forgot you. My sources say he never married, jes’ talked about the uptown girl he’d met at the Holy Family Church when he was in his teens. Hard for me to think of Chico bein’ in church, but that was a long time ago. Heard you and him had some heart-to-hearts back then. Also heard a rumor that Chico and your daddy became friends later on. Something about your mommy’s death. You probably ‘member that. Anyway, need you to come with me. Got an appointment at 4:30 this afternoon with a plastic surgeon and I need him to take some photos of your face.”

  “Are you insane?” she fumed, her voice rising as she stood up. “Pictures of my face? Why? And why would I accompany you anywhere? And to a plastic surgeon’s office? That’s just not going to happen. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve seen you, we’ve talked, and now I want you to leave before I call security.”

  “Sit down, Doll. Read this and if you don’t come with me, my associate’s gonna give it to every media outlet around, jes’ in time for the 6:00 news.” She carefully unfolded the paper he slid across the table to her.

  Maureen scanned it, started to sit down, then abruptly stood up again as she stared at Slade in amazement. “What makes you think this is true?” she said, her voice cracking.

  “Because my uncle tol’ me he did a big favor for yer’ daddy. Remember that pizza joint called Gino’s, not too far from the orphanage where Chico and I grew up? Well, guess what? Even though my uncle lives in Chicago, he owns that fine establishment. It was nothing more than a front for his real business. Your daddy asked my uncle to get rid of yer’ mommy, like permanently. She died when she was shot and killed in broad daylight on a sidewalk in Beverly Hills. The cops said she was the victim of a random strong-arm robbery because they took the big diamond necklace she wore. It made a nice cover-up for a gang hit arranged by my uncle.

  “Saved yer’ daddy’s nuts from bein’ cut off and never holdin’ an important political office. Yer’ daddy tol’ my uncle if he ever needed anything to let him know. My uncle tol’ me he was givin’ me the chit. Never needed it ‘til now. Hate to see yer’ daddy be ‘cused of mastermindin’ your mommy’s death, him bein’ such a big mucky-muck politico these days. Voters don’t take that kind of shit too kindly. Unnerstand it’s an election year. That ain’t the kind of publicity he probably wants.” He looked across the table at her and smelled her fear.

  “You son-of-a-bitch. How dare you come in here and say those things?”

  “Some things got to be said in order to get things done. So, Doll, whaddya think ‘bout goin’ to that appointment with me? Hate for Mr. Shapiro to find out his wife’s daddy hired a hit man to take out her mommy. Also probably wouldn’t look too good for the president of the largest oil company on the west coast to be married to the daughter of the man who took out a contract to have his wife killed so he could get elected to the United States Senate. Stockholders get real nervous ‘bout shit like that. Kind of bet that swanky Swiss bank you work for wouldn’t look too kindly on it either. So, ya’ comin’ with me or not?”

  She sat for a moment, twisting the big diamond ring on her finger and then whispered, “I’ll go with you if you promise me that whatever happened twenty years ago stays there and doesn’t ever see the light of day.”

  “No problem. You jes’ tell that lady at the desk outside yer’ office you forgot about an appointment and have to leave a little early today. Tell her you’ll see her in the mornin’.”

  Maureen walked over to the closet and took her suit jacket from the hangar. She turned back to Slade. “All right Mr. Kelly. Care to tell me what this is about?”

  “Nope. Jes’ want you to come with me, sit still for some photos, and then you can leave. It’ll be like we never saw each other.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Slade handed the pimply faced valet the claim check for his car and turne
d to Maureen. “We’ll take my car and ride together. The doctor’s office is in Santa Monica. I’ll get a cab to bring ya’ back here so ya’ can pick up your car when we’re finished.”

  They rode in silence for several minutes then Maureen spoke, “How can I be sure you’ll never tell anyone about daddy?”

  “It’s called trust, Doll. You’re doin’ what I need done, so there’s no reason to tell anyone about your daddy and what happened to your mommy.”

  Maureen continued, “I’d known for a long time that my parents weren’t happy with each other. The next thing I knew, my mother had been murdered. It was a horrible time for me. Shortly after that I went to USC. Daddy was elected to the senate and when I went to Columbia University, I saw him more on the East Coast than when I was in Los Angeles.”

  “Understan’ when people want to forget things that happened to them when they were young, sometimes they begin to have a convenient memory lapse. They push things they don’t want to remember so far down, it’s like they never happened. But look at ya’ now, seems like ya’ done all right for yourself.”

  “Daddy and I are very close, in fact, he’s done so much for so many people, I don’t want to think about him in a negative way. I remember my mother as a beautiful woman who always had a glass of wine or a cocktail in her hand. I guess she had a drinking problem, but I was too young to understand it. I overheard our housekeeper and cook talking about her one day. They said she was loose. I didn’t know what that meant until I was much older. At the time I thought it meant that her arms and legs weren’t attached quite right. You know how literal kids are. Anyway, I’m done with the past. I have a fabulous life, a wonderful husband, and a dream job. I’m not giving up any of it up for something that happened a long time ago.”

  “Don’t have to. In another hour, you’ll be free of me and Chico. We’ll let the past stay buried.”

  He parked in the lot behind the large Mediterranean style medical building and they rode the elevator up to the doctor’s office on the fourth floor in a strained silence. Their footsteps echoed in the hallway as they walked to the doctor’s office. The door had the words, “Dr. Ron James, Plastic Surgeon” prominently displayed. Slade gave his name to the attractive receptionist who immediately escorted them into the doctor’s private office.

  “Have a seat. Dr. James will be with you shortly.”

  In a moment a portly, silver-haired man who looked like Santa Claus opened the door and strode over to Slade, shaking his hand. “Slade, it’s great to see you again. By the way, don’t know if you’re aware of it, but I recently remarried. Don’t look so skeptical. She’s not a trophy bimbo. I learned my lesson the hard way about younger women. No, she’s about my age, a widow, and a wonderful person. You’ll like her. Now what can I do for you? I must say your phone call was rather vague on what you wanted done.”

  “Happy for you, Doc. Congratulations. I’m here ‘cause I want you to take some photos of this pretty lady for me,” he said, turning to face Maureen. “I jes’ want facial photos. Doable?”

  “Yes, I can do that. Why?” he asked, placing his elbows on his desk and putting his chin in his hands.

  “I want you to take enough pictures to be able to recreate her face on someone else’s face based on the photos you take. Work for you?”

  “Sure. Give me a minute. I’ll tell Lois to get my camera set up. Miss, would you please go into the room next door and take a seat on the stool? I’ll be there shortly.” As soon as she left, he closed the door and turned to Slade. “What in the hell is going on?” he asked, his wiry grey eyebrows raised in a suspicious manner.

  “Jes’ take them nice pictures, Doc. Don’t worry. Ain’t nuthin’ illegal. I’ll tell you all about it after she leaves.”

  Forty-five minutes later Slade had the receptionist arrange for a cab to take Maureen back to her bank building. “Thanks, Doll. Nice seein’ ya’. Good luck with the rest of your life. You ain’t ever gonna see or hear from me again. Remember what I tol’ ya’. This is all about trust. Thanks for comin’ with me.”

  “Slade, what are you going to do with those photos of me? Since it’s my face, I think I have a right to know.”

  “Sorry, Doll, no need for ya’ to know. They’ll be private, jes’ between me and the doc.” She turned away and hurried down the hall toward the elevator, anxious to put as much space between them as she possibly could. Slade walked back into the doctor’s office.

  “Okay, Slade, tell me what’s going on,” Dr. James said.

  “Got a little story to tell ya’, Doc, and it’s gotta stay private, jes’ between you and me. I’m gonna be bringin’ a woman in here for you to operate on. Want her to look ‘xactly like the woman that jes’ left. Only thing ya’ need to do is her face. That sumpin you can do?”

  “Yes, but why? That’s a very strange request.”

  “No need for ya’ to know, Doc. You jes’ do the surgery and I’ll take care of the rest. What’s the tariff on sumpin’ like this? And how long before she’s gonna be back to normal?”

  “Well, for everyone else I’d charge $50,000, but I’ll do it for $5,000 for you. Just how extensive is this going to be? And she’ll need to sign a lot of waivers if I’m going to reconstruct her face.”

  “No problem. It’s not gonna be like some butt ugly woman becomin’ beautiful. She’s a looker to start with. She’ll sign the waivers. Let’s do it tomorrow afternoon. Can ya’ schedule her for then?”

  The doctor buzzed his secretary. “Lois, I need to schedule a reconstructive face surgery for tomorrow afternoon. It can be done in the operating suite here, but you may have to reschedule someone else. Thank you.”

  He turned back to Slade. “I’ll make the arrangements for her to be taken to the recovery home directly after the surgery. She’s not to eat or drink anything after eight tomorrow morning and from this moment on, no aspirin. Will you be coming with her?”

  “Hell, yes. Gotta make sure this happens. Gots a lot at stake.”

  “Well Slade, being around you is always interesting,” he said, looking at his watch. He stood up. “Be here at 1:30 and use the door down the hall. It’s a private door I use for people who have had surgery and don’t want to be seen. Somehow, knowing you, I imagine you don’t want this public.”

  “Got that right, Doc. Thanks. See ya’ tomorrow!” He lifted one hand to his temple in a mock salute, grabbed his grey fedora hat from the table next to him, and walked out the door.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Brad, it’s Slade. I went through the file on that chick named Barbara who works at Naughty’s. What time does she get off work tonight?”

  “Midnight. They’re open until 2:00 a.m., but she’s got a final tomorrow, so she’s getting off early.”

  “Okay. See you at 10:30 and I’ll explain the drill to ya’ then.”

  Slade spent most of the evening researching Barbara Jenkins. He found out she was a thirty-six year old student pursuing her master’s degree in psychology, worked at the Naughty Gentlemen’s Club, had never been married, and had no criminal record. There were a few other things from her past, but nothing that interfered with his plan.

  Good. The further I can keep her under the radar, the better.

  He heard Brad’s car pull into his driveway at 10:30. Slade walked out to the nondescript 2010 silver Ford Taurus. It was a car people generally didn’t remember. There was heavy traffic on the freeways, even at this late hour. They arrived at the Naughty at 11:15.

  “Brad, what does she drive?”

  “That’s her car up there, the blue Chevy four door parked at the curb. It’s pretty old, but I understand she’s real tight on money.”

  “Park as close to it as you can. I’ll get out here.” He opened the door, looked around, lit a cigarette, and sauntered over to Barbara’s car. It was too early for people to leave the club and too late for them to be arriving, which made it a perfect time to break into her locked car.

  Broken street lights made it easier
for Slade and he had the rear door of her car open in seconds. He glanced at the back seat, shut the door, and walked back to where Brad was parked. They walked into the club.

  Even though it was illegal in California to smoke in a club where food was being served, the Naughty got around it by having a “Members Only” cigar club. Slade and Brad paid the fee and took a seat at a small cocktail table near the bar.

  Every time Barbara walked to the bar to get a round of drinks, Slade was more and more certain Brad had made the right choice. She had long, dark, auburn hair with big green eyes and a creamy complexion. Her tight white T-shirt with her black patent leather belt, and the black shorts that ended where impossibly long shapely legs began, didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  Slade glanced at his watch. “I’m leavin’ now, Brad. You got yer’ marchin’ orders.” Slade walked out the door and up the street to Barbara’s car. He looked around, didn’t see anyone, got in the back seat, and lay down on the floor.

  Fifteen minutes later he heard a key being inserted into the door lock and the driver’s door opening. Barbara got behind the wheel, fastened her seat belt, started the car, and turned on the headlights. Slade remained motionless. She switched on the radio as she steered the car onto the street, humming along with a country music song. Slade knew her apartment was only five minutes away.

  He pressed his snub-nosed .38 pistol against the back of her neck and said, “Doll, jes’ keep driving. I’m not gonna hurt ya’ or take any money. Jes’ need to talk to ya’. We’re gonna go to your apartment and have a little chat. Don’t worry. You’re a lot safer with me in the car.”

  “Wha, what dddoo you want from me?” she stuttered, her hands visibly shaking with fright as she gripped the steering wheel.