by Carl Schmidt
“What’s the easiest way to get there?” I asked.
“Let’s see,” she replied. “You can catch the subway at Columbus Circle. That’s at the southwest corner of Central Park. The B line goes directly to Atlantic Avenue. It will take you maybe twenty to twenty-five minutes to get to the station, plus another ten minutes to walk to the shop. If you know what you want, you could get there and back in an hour and a half.”
“Do you have any specific recommendations?” I asked.
“Talk to the guy at the counter. He’ll give you the full rundown.”
“Thanks, Holly,” I said, and we hung up.
“Angele, I can pick up a vest and probably be back here by quarter to one. Why don’t you and Xavier go to lunch as planned? I’ll stay in touch and try to meet you. If I’m late, I’ll grab a bite to eat along the way. Even if I’m a little late, we’ll have plenty of time to check out of the hotel by two.”
“Do it!” she said firmly. “Better safe than sorry—or worse.”
“Bye, honey,” I said, as I kissed her. “Oh, yes. When you see Xavier, don’t tell him what I’m doing. There’s no need to make him any more nervous than he already is.”
• • •
Holly Winters knows New York. It took me exactly an hour and twenty minutes to return with a Level II bulletproof vest. It set me back two hundred bucks and weighed just over five pounds.
While I was riding back on the subway, I got a call from my mother. As I read the caller ID, it occurred to me that she might have picked up on the excitement—and the danger.
“Jesse, I haven’t heard from you since Christmas. I got the urge to call and see how you are,” she said. Her voice sounded anxious.
“I’m in New York with a client,” I replied.
“You have clients in New York now?” she asked.
“That’s where we are at the moment. In fact, right now I’m on the subway leaving Brooklyn on my way back to the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan.”
It probably wasn’t necessary to tell mom not to mention where I was, but to be on the safe side, I decided to do it anyway.
“Oh, by the way, Mom… Don’t tell anyone where I am. I need to keep my business as confidential as possible to respect the client’s privacy.”
“Who is your client?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“I see,” she replied. “Well, at least it sounds like business is good.”
“It’s never been better. I hired someone to work full time in our Portland office. She’s a retired policewoman from New York City.”
“Is she connected with your new client?”
“Not really,” I replied. To change the subject, I asked, “What have you been doing?”
“I’m off work for a couple of weeks,” she replied without enthusiasm. “They’re overhauling our computer system. The IRS is trying to remove a number of glitches, but mostly they want to avoid the appearance of singling out specific individuals or groups for audits. They want them to be chosen according to a rigid set of standards and priorities.
“Actually,” she added, “I hate being away from work during the Christmas holidays. It gives me too much time to think about Tom.”
Over the years, I had often suggested that she find a new partner, but she had never been receptive to that idea, so I kept my mouth shut on that score.
“Why don’t you finish knitting the sweater for me that you promised last winter?” I suggested.
“It’s done,” she said triumphantly. “I was going to surprise you the next time you dropped in to see me. The surprise is half gone now, I guess, but you still don’t know what color it is. I hope you’ll like it.”
“You know I will. I’ll wear it every day until it gets warm,” I said. “I haven’t been in Augusta since the end of December. We’ve had lots of work to do in Portland. I’ll see you first thing when I get home.”
Before she could say anything else, I added, “Mom, I’ve got to go. The train is pulling in at Columbus Circle. Angele and I just had a stroll through Central Park. It’s a beautiful and quiet place right in the middle of chaos.”
“I love you, Jesse. Take care.”
“I love you, Mom,” I said, and we hung up.
• • •
After lunch, we checked out of the hotel and accompanied Xavier to his casting audition in Greenwich Village. His meeting would take an hour, so Angele and I walked a couple of blocks south to Washington Square Park.
Despite the chilly temperatures, there were a number of hearty souls playing chess and a scattering of street performers working for tips. Under the arch, a young guy played a variety of classical, pop and show tunes on a grand piano. I assumed he was a regular, as many people passed without taking notice. Still, a sizable crowd gathered near to hear him play.
Angele and I sat on a bench about twenty feet away and listened for half an hour. He played extraordinarily well, yet with an indifferent, almost jaded, flourish, as if he had been doing it non-stop for years. He definitely was in control of his instrument, which, to my amazement, seemed to be very well tuned. Keeping it that way through the changes of temperature and humidity had to be a challenge.
A young lady on the bench next to us said that he plays all over town. In fact, he owns a number of pianos and stores them in convenient locations around Manhattan. He takes his act to the streets between his formal gigs. She told us that a few years back, the city started imposing hefty fines on street performers who played near landmarks, but when that proved to be unpopular, they stopped giving out citations.
Xavier joined us in the park when he finished the audition, and we caught a cab for Newark Airport. Our flights left from different terminals, so Angele and I were dropped off curbside. As I exited the cab, Xavier handed me a check for five thousand dollars and said, “That’s for your time and trouble. I realize how dangerous this might get. I intend to pay you properly for your effort and your risk.”
“Thank you, Xavier,” I said. “I’ll call you immediately if anything new turns up, and we’ll test our Skype connection on Monday.”
“I should be free after 5 PM every day next week,” he said.
I wondered to myself just how free he’d be when Thursday rolled around. Then Angele and I gave him a hug, and we watched his cab drive away.
“I want to hear about the vest,” Angele said, as we got in line at the United Airlines counter.
“I’ll let you try it on yourself when we get home.”
“Unless you got a woman’s model, I’ll pass on that. What I want to know is… Will it stop a bullet?”
“It depends on the weapon and type of ammunition. The thing weighs five pounds. It offers considerable protection against most of the commonly owned handguns.”
There was some turbulence on our flight home; the skies were smooth, but Angele was edgy. At one point she muttered, “I don’t want to become a widow before the wedding.”
I would have asked, “What wedding?” but I recalled the wisdom of Falstaff in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, “The better part of valor is discretion.” So instead of saying anything, I let out a snoring sound as if I had fallen asleep. Our plane landed safely in Portland at 9:40 PM.
When we were finally snuggled in bed for the night, I replied, “Angele, I won’t do anything foolish. You’re not going to be a widow before the wedding.”
35
Family Affairs
“Are you watching the game?”
“Nah. The Patriots are out of it, Jesse. Besides, I hate the Broncos. I’d root for them to lose, but I hate the Steelers even more. I hope it ends in a tie.”
“This is the playoffs, Eric. They keep going until somebody wins.”
While he was considering that, I got down to the real reason I called.
“So, tell me. How did it go on Friday night?”
“You mean the 2 AM, Saturday morning caper?”
“Right.”
“Other than the frostbite
, it worked out perfectly.”
“I hope it’s only on your toes, Eric. We need your fingers to play lead.”
“They should thaw out in a week or two,” he said.
“Have you been getting a signal?” I asked.
“I’ve got one right now. Just a minute.”
I waited for him to get back with me.
“I can replay the highlights for you if you like.”
“Why don’t you recap what you’ve heard so far?” I said.
“OK. The couple in question were at it in bed this morning. As near as I can tell, they started at eight twenty-two. It was all over at eight twenty-five.”
“That was quick,” I replied.
“Maybe I should drop by and give him some pointers,” Eric suggested.
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”
“I don’t know about him, but she would.”
“Anything else notable?” I asked.
“They had a tiff over breakfast.”
“Oh?”
“She burned the pancakes. I couldn’t make it out very well; the sound comes in a lot clearer when they’re in the living room or when their headboard is banging against the bedroom wall.”
“Other than their domestic activities, do you have anything significant to report?”
“Not yet.”
“Has Tina called him by his name?”
“Oh. Right! She called him ‘Leo.’ She said, ‘Leo, if you don’t like your pancakes dark brown, then cook ‘em yourself.’ Sounds to me that they should have spent more quality time in bed.”
“Good point, Eric. Stay on it. If the memory in the receiver fills up, transfer it to your hard drive. Save everything. We may need it later.”
“Billy set it up so it records directly to the laptop from the receiver.”
“Great.”
“If Billy ever manages to find a steady girlfriend, we’ll be in trouble,” Eric said. “When he finds something worthwhile to do, he puts his mind to it, and everything else goes to pot.”
“Why is that? You don’t think he can have a relationship and keep our equipment running smoothly?”
“Billy’s strictly a one-track mind kind of guy, Jesse. He’s not a multi-tasker. You and I were a few years ahead of him in school, but do you remember watching him playing Little League?”
“Barely,” I replied.
“He was good at throwing the ball, but he couldn’t hit his way out of a wet paper bag.”
“He’s a good keyboard player, though,” I suggested.
“Yeah, but he can’t sing.”
“Well, there is that,” I replied. “OK, Eric. Let me know the minute anything important happens at the Woodbury place. If I don’t hear from you sooner, we’ll talk on Monday.”
“See you, Jesse.”
Next, I called Archie Lapointe.
“That you, Jesse?” Archie said.
“Yes. I wanted to check in with you about something.”
“What’s up?”
I gave him the rundown on the Xavier LaGrange case, without mentioning Xavier’s name. He’d be privy to that if he stepped in to help, which was why I called him.
“It looks as if I’ll be tied up through Thursday,” Archie said. “After that, I could probably rearrange things if necessary. Murder and blackmail trumps staking out wives having affairs.”
“Just wondering,” I said. “Do you have any body armor?”
“When I was on the force in Boston, I used it now and again, but I never bought a vest for myself. Why? Are you thinking about getting some gear?”
“I already did. I got a Level II Kevlar vest in New York yesterday.”
“I suppose it might come in handy, but often it’s better to be light on your feet and be prepared to shoot straight if it comes down to that. There could be times, of course, when a vest would come in handy. It’s just hard to predict what the circumstances on the ground will call for.”
“If we have a showdown with our blackmailer, I’ll bring it along,” I said. “In any event, I really appreciate your standing by on this one.”
• • •
Sunday at noon, I got a call back from Eric.
“It’s Tony,” he said, all excited. “He’s at the Woodbury house. Do you want to listen in?”
“Absolutely.”
“Here it is,” Eric said.
“I spoke with that bastard over the phone. He’s hired a bodyguard, and they know who I am. For Christ’s sake, Tina, how did he find that out?”
“I have no idea, Tony. You know I don’t talk to anyone about business. I just do my thing, and I keep my mouth shut.”
“What about Sophia? Could she have found out about LaGrange?” Tony asked.
“Could be, I guess. I don’t know. Occasionally, she and Nicole got together, but to tell you the truth, they didn’t get along all that well. Sophia was jealous of Nicole. Nicole was a lot prettier and had an easier time scoring with men.”
“Sophia never said much to me about Nicole,” Tony replied. “I’ve always tried to keep you girls from getting friendly. The less you know about each other, the better. That way, if someone gets pinched, the story ends there. But, if anyone rats me out, they’ll regret it.
“What I just can’t figure is… Who killed Nicole?” (Tony said that as if he really meant it.) “At first I thought that LaGrange did it. He was with her—at least I assume he was—but one thing bothers me. It’s a little hard to imagine him doing the wet work.”
(At that point, another man entered the conversation.)
“The news said that the fourth floor camera was sprayed with paint just before the murder. It seems to me that Xavier LaGrange would have had a hard time flying in to Portland on Friday, scoping out the hotel, buying some spray paint, getting there ahead of time to take out the camera, and then meeting Nicole in her room to strangle her. Besides, he’s more or less a celebrity. Someone could easily recognize him. Actors may be stupid, but that would be idiotic.”
(The same guy, presumably Leo, continued after a pause.)
“She was hitting him up for seventy grand, but I’m sure he’s loaded. I don’t think he’d resort to murder for that. Do you?”
“It was supposed to be forty grand,” Tony yelled. “So, Nicole was holding out on me again. I never could trust her.”
“Whether it was forty or seventy, it’s a fair piece of change,” Leo replied. “But I can’t figure who would have killed her for that. I can’t stand that slimeball, Joe Dunham, but I don’t think he’d stick his neck out that far for seventy grand.”
“Listen, Leo. I know your last name is Wallace, but I don’t give that information out to anyone. You’re new on the scene. You weren’t around when I put this family together, so maybe you didn’t get the message. We don’t use real last names. You’re not even supposed to know that Joe’s real name is ‘Dunham.’ I guess Tina must have let that slip. My last name isn’t ‘Fowler.’ Jesus, pull your head out of your ass. We’re not playing games. If somebody gets put away, they do their time alone. Get it?”
(It was quiet for about ten seconds. Leo either got it then, or he was never going to get it.)
“Listen, Tony,” Tina said, breaking the silence. “Outside of Joe and Sophia, I can’t imagine who else knew that Nicole was meeting with Xavier LaGrange.”
“You and Leo did,” Tony said in a menacing voice.
“Nicole was my best friend, Tony,” Tina shot back, loud and with anger. “I’ve known her since high school. And let’s not forget, you knew about Xavier LaGrange too. For all we know, you might have strangled her to keep her quiet, and, at the same time, set up Xavier LaGrange for some real money. He’s got to be worth millions. If you could make him the prime suspect for her murder, you’d have him by the balls.
“Somebody might have seen him at the hotel, or at least in Portland over the weekend,” she went on. “And there were dozens of people at that party on the Cape where Nicole met him. The police would jump at
the connection between the two of them. Hell, if I knew how to get hold of Xavier LaGrange, I might put the squeeze on him myself. That kind of publicity could sink his career.”
(After a brief silence, she continued, now sounding more calm and sensible.)
“Nicole knew more of your girls than I do. She could easily have mentioned Xavier LaGrange to someone else. He was a real feather in her cap. She used to call him her 401K. She even laughed about that with me over the phone just before she met him last Saturday. She specifically requested room 401 in the Rutland Arms Hotel. Nicole had a warped sense of humor, but she was fun to be with. To you, she was just a meal ticket; but I loved her like a sister.
“There’s something else you should know,” Tina said with a mixture of seriousness and regret. “But you’re not going to like it.”
“What’s that?” Tony fired back.
“You asked me to locate Frank. You told me it was real important. In fact, I got the impression that you might want to silence him—permanently. I didn’t like that idea, but he does owe me twelve grand, so I hired a private detective. You know the guy—Jesse Thorpe. I told you all about him when he solved the Lavoilette murder.
“I met him in June. He must have had a list of the women that William had slept with. He even took me out to lunch to figure out how I was involved. I thought he might be able to find out where Frank lived. And he did, too. At least he found his mailing address.”
“So why are you telling me this?” Tony asked. “What does this have to do with Nicole’s murder?”
“I’m getting to that. Keep your shirt on for Christ’s sake.”
(There was a short silence before she continued.)
“Jesse plays in a rock band. Nicole and I went to see him play on New Year’s Eve. We had dates. I’m pretty sure Nicole managed to take hers to bed. Mine got cold feet and drove me home.
“Anyway, two days later, I went to Jesse’s office in Portland and hired him to find Frank. I signed a contract and gave him five hundred bucks. When I was about to go, he asked me who I was with that night. Not the men; he asked me about Nicole! He said he thought he recognized her from somewhere.