Conflict of Interest

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  “Well,” he said, “right now I’m dripping water all over the bathroom floor. I was in the shower.”

  “Are you naked?”

  Dreiser laughed, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls. “Are you interested?”

  “Maybe,” she said, walking over to the window and seeing the lights burning inside the cabin of the Nightwatch. “But not now.”

  With only a few words, Joanne Kuhlman had pulled off a small miracle. She had not only called him at precisely the right moment, she’d managed to get him to laugh on a day he’d never thought it possible. “Are you implying that you’d like to get together at a later date? You’re not one of those people who goes back on their word, I hope.”

  “No, no,” Joanne said, embarrassed. “I think you’re a nice man.”

  “Just nice?” Dreiser asked, a playful smile on his face. “Can’t you come up with a better adjective? You know like ‘great,’ ‘sexy,’ ‘brilliant,’ ‘irresistible.’ I’d certainly rank you a few notches above ‘nice.’”

  “Really?” Joanne said, her face flushing. “How would you rank me?”

  “Ah, let’s see,” he said, pausing a moment. “I’d probably place you in the ‘remarkable’ category.”

  “‘Remarkable,’ huh?” she said. “I’d prefer to be ‘beautiful,’ ‘desirable,’ ‘determined,’ and ‘heroic.’”

  Again Dreiser laughed, a feeling of warmth spreading throughout his body. “You only gave me one adjective.”

  “I think we should get back to why I called,” she continued. “Have you talked to Elizabeth today?”

  Dreiser hit the button for the speakerphone so he could dry off and get dressed. “I talked to Elizabeth’s daughter,” he said. “Pauline is a nurse at Holy Cross Hospital. She went out alone today.”

  “In a storm like this?”

  “According to Pauline,” Arnold said, “before the rainstorm, Elizabeth had been staying out there until three or four in the morning. She would have gone with her mother today, but they needed her at the hospital.”

  “I want you to meet a friend of mine,” Joanne told him. “He tracked down my ex-husband. I think he might be able to find Decker’s body.”

  “Not a private detective,” Dreiser said. “I don’t put a lot of stock in those people, Joanne. Why would we bring an amateur into the picture when the search and rescue team has been working for days. As soon as the weather clears…”

  “The search has been called off,” she told him. “The Valencia authorities can’t justify deploying this much manpower without more evidence.”

  “Tell me about your friend.”

  “Eli is far from an amateur,” Joanne said. “We’re talking former CIA.”

  “Why did he leave the agency?”

  “Trust me,” she said, sighing. “This is one story you don’t want to know.”

  “Is this man dangerous?”

  “Take me off the speakerphone!”

  “I’m at home, Joanne,” Dreiser said, pulling on a pair of slacks before he retrieved the handset. “There’s no one in the house but me. This guy must be bad news if you’re afraid to even talk about him over the phone.”

  “Let me use Eli’s explanation,” Joanne told him. “He doesn’t steal and he doesn’t kill people. As far as being dangerous, the answer is yes, but only to people like the Rubinskys.”

  “Sounds like my kind of guy,” Dreiser joked. ‘Anyone willing to offer their services for free is welcome.”

  “Eh doesn’t work for free.”

  “Who’s going to pay him?”

  Joanne swallowed first, then said, “You are.”

  The smile disappeared from Dreiser’s face. “Wait a minute here,” he protested. “I’ve already lost a ton of money on this case. My practice is out of control, and now you want me to pay some former CIA agent who sounds like trouble. Sure, I care about Ian. But before the trial, I’d only seen the guy twice in his lifetime. I don’t even know Elizabeth that well, for Christ’s sake.”

  Joanne decided to hit the defense attorney hard. The day she’d gone to lunch with him, he’d badgered her into believing Decker was an innocent victim. Now that she was in over her head emotionally, as determined to find Decker as his own mother, Arnold was ready to head off in the opposite direction. If they didn’t find the body by the weekend, she’d given thought to having Mike and Leah round up some of their friends and join the search party. “You’re going to think I’m cruel for what I’m about to say,” she said, sucking in a deep breath. “I only say what I feel is right. That’s how my parents raised me.”

  “It’s a free world,” Dreiser told her. “Say whatever you want.”

  “There’s nothing you can do about what happened to your son,” Joanne told him, walking around as she talked. “My heart goes out to you. Nonetheless, you have an opportunity to help Elizabeth.”

  Dreiser bristled. “As if I haven’t been trying to help Elizabeth.”

  “Representing Ian on a robbery charge isn’t the same,” she said. “I admit I thought he’d just skipped out at first, but too much time has passed. A person with his limitations would have called home by now.”

  Dreiser felt as if she’d punched him in the gut. She’d lifted his spirits only to crush them, using his son’s death to coerce him into paying for a private detective he’d never met. “Are you certain the authorities are calling off the search?”

  “The word came from Kennedy himself,” Joanne told him. “That’s why I want you to bring Eli on board. He has the skills, the time, and the equipment. I’m not saying he’ll find Decker tomorrow. If we put him on the payroll, I feel fairly certain he’ll get the job done. You have to hire him immediately, though, or he’s going to leave town.”

  A tense silence ensued.

  Arnold finally asked, “What makes you think I’m rolling in money?”

  “My savings account is empty,” Joanne said, her voice escalating. “I don’t even have a home I can borrow against. I’m only renting the Spencers’ house. In a few months, I’m going to have to find another place to live. I’d pay Eli myself, but I can’t afford it. I know you have a successful law practice, and you’ve won some large settlements. This woman needs help. Who else am I supposed to call? You’re the one who got me involved. My only responsibility was to prosecute Decker for robbery.”

  “How much does this Eli person charge?”

  “It’s up to you to negotiate his fees,” Joanne explained. “For obvious reasons, I can’t be involved. Do you know where the Cliff House restaurant is located?”

  Arnold was dressed now and seated in a chair in his bedroom. “Yeah,” he said. “The place off 101 Freeway on the outskirts of Santa Barbara.”

  “Right,” Joanne said. “Eli and I will meet you in the bar at nine o’clock. If for some reason, he can’t come, give me your cell phone number.” After jotting down his number, she gazed out the window again. The rain had let up for the moment. She felt certain Eli could get to shore safely if he left right away She wondered if he’d wired her house without her knowledge and was listening to their conversation. “Oh,” she added, “don’t worry about bringing your checkbook. Eli gets paid in cash.”

  “I only have a few hundred dollars on me.”

  “He’ll wait for the money until the bank opens in the morning.”

  Joanne strode into the bar at the Cliff House restaurant shortly after nine o’clock. Dreiser almost choked on his beer when he saw the hulking figure behind her. At first, he wasn’t even sure it was a man. All he saw was a large, dark shadow that seemed to reach all the way to the ceiling.

  Joanne made the introductions. “Eli, this is Arnold Dreiser” Dreiser shook the man’s hand, marveling at the size of it. He wasn’t small in stature himself, but he felt as if he’d placed his hand inside an oversized catcher’s mitt. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, clearing his throat. “Should we get a table?”

  “No,” Eli said, his voice surprisingly soft. “Follow me.” Dr
eiser threw some money down on the bar, then rushed to catch Joanne and Eli as they exited the restaurant. “We’ll talk in my truck,” Eli told him, pointing to a black Toyota pickup in the parking lot. “Won’t it be a little cramped?”

  “I can’t stay,” Joanne said, kissing Dreiser on the cheek before she jumped in her car and took off.

  Dreiser was completely befuddled. He touched the spot on his cheek where the prosecutor had kissed him. Eli crossed to the other side of the parking lot; Dreiser remained in front of the restaurant. What was he doing? On the anniversary of his son’s death, he was about to get into a car with a man who looked as if he could snap his neck like a twig. His palms began perspiring.

  He saw Eli gesturing to him, standing alongside his truck.

  “I left something in my car,” Dreiser called out. “Just give me a minute to go get it.”

  “Get back here,” Eli shouted, grimacing in annoyance. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Oh,” Arnold said, trying to come up with an explanation. “It’s my medicine, you know. I need to take my medicine.”

  “Like hell you do,” Eli said, slamming the car door.

  In a panic, Dreiser ran toward his car. Eli tackled him, slamming him down onto the pavement. With the big man on top of him, Dreiser felt as if he couldn’t breathe. “Get off me.”

  “Listen carefully,” Eli whispered in his ear. “I’m here because Joanne said you wanted me to find some kid’s body If the way I look scares you, I’m sorry. This is how God made me.”

  Dreiser pleaded, “Just let me up, okay?”

  “On one condition?”

  “Anything,” Dreiser gasped.

  “Promise you’ll never judge a person by the color of their skin or any other physical characteristic. Do you know how many black men are in prison because of people like you?”

  “It wasn’t the color of your skin,” Dreiser told him. “My son killed himself. It was five years ago today. I shouldn’t have come tonight. I usually stay home and get plastered.”

  Eli rolled off him, then stood, reaching down and offering Arnold a hand. Arnold ignored Eli, pushed himself up, then sat there, his eyes moist with tears. He hadn’t been this humiliated since he’d been beaten up in the third grade. He dropped his head, hoping Eli wouldn’t notice that he was crying. He found himself staring at the man’s tennis shoes. The only time he’d seen feet that big was on a professional basketball player.

  “How’s your sea legs?” Eli asked, reaching down and clasping Dreiser’s forearm, then gently pulling him to a standing position. “You know, do you get seasick?”

  “No,” Dreiser said, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “I used to have a sailboat. I sold it several years back. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m going to take you to my place,” Eli said. “We’ll have a few drinks and talk. The ride over might be a little rough, but once we get there, I think you’ll feel better. And don’t worry about getting home. Wherever you want to be in the morning, I’ll make certain you get there.”

  As they were walking back toward Eli’s truck, Dreiser suddenly stopped. “That’s why she kissed me.”

  “What are you babbling about now?”

  “Today’s Valentine’s Day right?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought,” Eli answered, unlocking the passenger door for the attorney “Is that why you ran off like that? Did you think I wanted you to be my Valentine or something? Even if I was into guys, you’re not my type.”

  Eli doubled over with laughter. Dreiser joined in. Instead of being frightened, he now felt relaxed and comfortable, as if he’d known this man for years. Perhaps he’d needed to shed a few tears. Or it could be the man himself. Once Dreiser got over the initial shock, being around Eli made him feel safe, as if nothing could harm him. No wonder Joanne had insisted he meet him. If he could find Ian, Dreiser would consider offering Eli a job as an investigator with his law firm.

  “I was referring to Joanne,” Dreiser said, realizing he’d scraped his chin when Eli had knocked him down. “She kissed me. It was just a peck on the cheek. I wasn’t expecting it. I’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day.”

  “Think she was trying to tell you something?” Eli said, a broad grin on his face. “She’s one fine lady. I’m not so sure about you. Her ex-husband did a number on her. I’ll have to check you out if you’re thinking along those lines.”

  The two men were inside the cab of the truck now. “What can you tell me about this thing with her ex-husband?” Dreiser asked, fastening his seat belt. “Joanne mentioned that he is on trial in Los Angeles. What exactly did he do?”

  “You’ll have to ask Joanne,” Eli said, gunning the engine and steering the Toyota in the direction of the 101 Freeway. “I don’t discuss my clients’ business.”

  “From what you said, you must live on a boat.”

  “A ship,” Eli told him. “She’s a beauty.”

  “What about the weather?”

  Eli peered out the windshield. The dark clouds had passed and a number of stars were now visible. “The storm’s over, my friend.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Thursday, February 15, 2001, 1:00 A.M.

  ELI AND Arnold were facing each other in two swivel chairs in the main cabin of the Nightwatch, the row of computer terminals flickering beside them. Eli picked up their cocktail glasses and carried them to the galley, returning a short time later with two ceramic mugs filled with coffee. Watching the man duck his head as he came through the portal, Dreiser was curious. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to knock yourself unconscious? Does anyone ever check up on you?”

  “Nah,” Eli said, handing over one of the coffee mugs as he squeezed his large frame into the vacant chair. “I don’t want anyone keeping tabs on me. My clients call me whenever they need me. Joanne would probably notify the Coast Guard if I didn’t return her page, particularly now that she knows I’m here. That’s why I didn’t tell her I was still keeping an eye on her until a few days ago. With some of the stuff I’ve got on board this tub, the last thing I need is for the Coast Guard to come snooping around.”

  Dreiser had consumed several glasses of bourbon. He didn’t feel intoxicated, however, and he was highly sensitive to caffeine. He took a sip of the coffee to make certain Eli wasn’t offended, then set the coffee mug down on the console. Eli had agreed to take him back to shore whenever he wanted, and Dreiser needed to catch a few hours of sleep. He had a court appearance in Los Angeles at ten o’clock, and because of the traffic, he’d have to leave Ventura no later than seven-thirty in the morning. “What if you got sick?”

  “I don’t get sick,” Eli said, his eyes roaming from monitor to monitor. He spun his chair around, placed the coffee mug on top of a stack of papers and typed in a few coordinates to reposition the telescopes.

  Dreiser leaned forward, peering over his shoulder. “What are you doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Making certain Joanne is safe,” Eli told him, clasping his coffee mug with both hands. “Focusing on just her house wouldn’t accomplish anything. I scan the entire community. The trees are a major problem. That and the fact that there’s no streetlights. Why would someone build a fancy area like Seacliff Point, and then be too cheap to put in a few streetlights? Doesn’t make sense, you know.”

  “If there aren’t any lights,” Dreiser asked, “what good are the telescopes?”

  “The telescopes have infrared capabilities,” he explained. “They also scan and record automatically Because I don’t have enough equipment to cover the entire area at one time, I have to review the footage, then reset some of the cameras. What you’re seeing on this screen,” he said, pointing to one of the monitors, “was recorded while we were on shore. All the rest of the monitors are live. By the time an assailant reached Joanne’s house, it’d be too late. My only choice would be to shoot him.”

  “I thought you didn’t kill people.”

  Eli let out a long sigh. He’d spent
the afternoon poring over the files on the Decker case. Most of the night, he’d listened to Dreiser talk about his son. The day had exhausted him. “I don’t make it a habit of killing people,” he told him. “You can shoot a person without killing them.”

  “From this distance?”

  “With the right weapon.” Eli said, arching an eyebrow. “And don’t ask, because I have no intention of telling you what kind of weaponry I have on board. I only brought you here because Joanne vouched for you. Whatever you’ve seen or heard tonight is not to be repeated.” He pinned Dreiser with a steely gaze. “Are we clear?”

  “Absolutely,” Dreiser said, having caught a glimpse of the dark side of Eli’s personality. He waited until the muscles in the man’s face relaxed, then presented his next question. “Do you really think Joanne’s ex-husband would hire someone to hurt her?”

  “I haven’t ruled out the possibility,” Eli said, spinning his chair back to its previous position.

  Dreiser ran his hands through his hair. “What good is the film footage? I realize if something did happen, you’d have documentation, but it’d be after the fact. The point is to keep someone from hurting her. Aren’t you wasting your time filming?”

  “A contract killer works differently than your average criminal,” Eli told him, opening a drawer and removing a bag of peanuts. He offered some to Dreiser, but the attorney waved them away. “They don’t just run up to someone and blow their head off,” he continued, cracking a shell and tossing a peanut into his mouth. “Doug Kuhlman has the money to hire a professional. He wouldn’t take a chance of hiring some lightweight off the street for fear they’d hurt his kids. Joanne said you used to be a judge. Haven’t you ever handled a murder-for-hire?”

  The thought that Joanne could be in danger was chilling. “Not personally,” Arnold said. “I only served six months on the bench, and I was assigned to the misdemeanor arraignment calendar. Of course, I’ve studied and heard about cases involving hired assassins. As far as my current law practice is concerned, criminal law isn’t my speciality. Elizabeth asked me to help her, or I wouldn’t be involved in this mess.”