Drug Affair

by Rick Polad

  Still smiling, he said, “That’s true.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “I don’t think that’s something—”

  I held up my hand. “I figured you wouldn’t. A phone call might get that straightened out.” I had thought I’d at least get through the first five minutes without playing that card.

  “No need to get testy. If I may ask a question first.”

  I nodded.

  “What exactly is your involvement?”

  “Exactly… not much. Mrs. Margot would just like me to make sure her son is getting a fair deal and that everything is kosher.”

  He nodded slowly and wasn’t smiling anymore. “And you figure that means you get inside information.”

  “I’d hardly define it that way. In order to do what she wants, I need to know what the offer is.”

  “And you’re going to do what with that?”

  “Nothing besides note it and be able to tell her whether it’s fair or not.”

  “And you’re an expert on federal cases are you?”

  “I don’t see where this needs to be contentious, Mr. Malbry. It’s as simple as I explained. I don’t need a law degree to be able to assess fairness.”

  He stared at me for ten seconds. I stared back.

  “Okay, they’ve offered to drop the selling charge and go with possession of a controlled substance. But they want some jail time.”

  I shifted in the chair and crossed my legs. “That doesn’t seem like a very good deal.”

  “He faces twenty years on the selling.”

  “Right, but a first offense for possession gets him probation.”

  “But there’s the selling charge.”

  “Which they’re dropping. I’m missing something here. What’s the trade?”

  “Reynolds gives up his connection,” he said. “They want the pipeline.”

  “Of course they do, but I’d think that’s worth probation—no jail time.”

  “We’re still talking.”

  I just looked at him. There was something wrong here. It seemed to me Mrs. Margot could get far better representation for far less money. I thought I might have the chance to tell her that.

  “Is Reynolds willing to talk?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Not so far.”

  “You’ve tried?”

  “He’s been in here twice, once with his mother and once without. Either he thinks he’s invulnerable or he thinks he has protection.” He shook his head. “I tried to tell him whoever sold him the drugs was only going to protect themselves, but he was sure about it.”

  “So he doesn’t want the deal?”

  “Not as of this moment.”

  “And I assume you’ve explained he doesn’t have a prayer in court.”

  “Yes. There aren’t any loopholes. I explained that, but he’s a bit cocky. Have you met him?”

  “I’m heading there after this.”

  He nodded. “Well, maybe you can talk some sense into him. Listen, Mr. Manning, despite what you think, I’ll get the best deal for the kid that I can. We can end up with probation, but he has to realize what he’s up against and agree to talk.”

  “I’ll see what he has to say. Maybe he’s afraid. These aren’t people who care about what happens to him.”

  “No. It’s too bad he didn’t think of that before he started all this.”

  “Nobody thinks they’re going to get caught. Has he told you why he did it?”

  “No. He’s not saying much of anything. Just said it sounded like something to do. He did say he had friends who were making a lot of money, so why shouldn’t he?”

  “Hmm. Did he say who the friends are?”

  “Nope, that’s it.”

  “Okay.” I pulled a card out of my shirt pocket and handed it to him. “If there’s anything I need to know…”

  He took it and set it on the glass top of the desk. “Certainly.”

  I was sure he meant that, but I was also sure that what I needed to know was a judgment call. His judgment would be that there wasn’t anything I needed to know.

  We parted with a handshake, and I left hoping I’d never have to go back.

  ***

  There were cars in the driveway of the house across the street... a BMW and a Cadillac. I was tempted to go in and have a look around, but my Mustang would have had to cower in the drive. Mrs. Margot’s maid answered the door and cheerfully showed me to the beach room. She said Mrs. Margot would be right with me, and lunch would be served in fifteen minutes. I stood by the windows and watched gulls playing in the waves. The sun was directly overhead, and everything was bright and without shadows. There were place settings for three on the glass table on the curved stone patio.

  A few minutes later, Mrs. Margot walked in with Reynolds and introduced me. The kid held out his hand, but he didn’t say anything, and the look he gave me was from someone who was planning to keep it that way. He was a bit on the scrawny side with shaggy brown hair and was trying his best to look like a tough guy. Dad had told me never to turn down a free meal, so if that was all I got…

  Mrs. Margot was all smiles and cheery… too cheery. She was trying to make up for her son, but that would take more than she had. She told me we were eating outside and led the way out via the glass doors. Throughout the meal, she made small talk, which mostly consisted of the family history. Mr. Margot’s father was a stock trader and had left a large fortune. His son had carried on in his footsteps and had continued the magic. They had been married for twenty-five years before he died from injuries suffered in a car accident. Reynolds was their only child. I think Reynolds grunted once when his mother asked him a question, but I wasn’t quite sure.

  When we were done eating, the maid cleared the dishes and brought dessert… Boston cream pie. Mrs. Margot told me it was Reynolds’ favorite. She said she needed to write some letters and left us alone. Reynolds ate the pie, but it didn’t seem like he was enjoying it. I wouldn’t have either, given the situation.

  I swallowed a bite and asked if he wanted to talk about that situation. He did look at me briefly but didn’t respond.

  “There are people here who are trying to help you, Reynolds,” I said.

  “I don’t need their help.”

  “I disagree, and I think you could use a friend.”

  He laughed. “If you mean you, the only reason you’re here is because my mother writes checks with lots of zeros.”

  “Your mother hasn’t paid me anything.”

  He laughed again… harder this time. “Maybe not yet, but she will. You’re not in this for nothing.”

  I started to respond, but he stopped me. “Money talks, man. It’s the universal language.”

  I set the fork down on the plate and washed the last bite down with water. “I can understand why you would think that, but there are exceptions to your rule.”

  “Right. And I suppose you’re one.” He stared at me. “I don’t need your friendship. You’re no better than all the rest of them.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant and said, “Look, kid… I’m trying hard to like you. Help me out a little bit, would you?”

  He banged his fist on the table. “I didn’t ask you here, and I sure don’t need you to like me or help me. I already have people who will take care of me.”

  “Like the ones who sold you the drugs?”

  “You don’t know anything about that, and I don’t have to tell you!”

  I saw the maid at the door. She was waiting to get the dessert dishes and looked frightened by his outburst.

  “No, you don’t have to tell me. But those people aren’t your friends. They’re just using you.”

  “You shut the hell up!”

  “Do you know your lawyer is talking a deal with the feds?”
>
  “Of course he is. That’s what money is for… to buy lawyers who make deals.”

  “So there is something useful about your mother’s checkbook?”

  He just glared at me without answering.

  “And that would involve you giving up some names.”

  More glaring. “I’m not stupid. Do I look like I want to die?”

  “You willing to do jail time, Reynolds?”

  He laughed again. “That’s what this is all about, man. Haven’t you been listening? Money buys no jail time.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. The feds want more than money. There aren’t any sure things when you stand up in court. Do you know what they’d do to a young kid like you in jail?”

  I thought I saw a momentary break in the tough guy act, but it was fleeting.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I won’t have to find out. That’s why the legal gets the big bucks… to know if there’s enough money I won’t be doing any jail time.”

  I shrugged again. “What were you doing on the west side, Reynolds?”

  “That’s a pretty dumb question. What was I arrested for? I wasn’t selling Girl Scout cookies.”

  “I guess I wasn’t clear. I know what you were selling. Why were you selling it there?”

  He smiled. “You’re pretty dumb for a big deal private dick. It’s all part of the game.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re not as smart as my mother thinks you are. Now, if you’re done with your pie, I’ve got things to do.”

  I pulled a card out of my pocket and laid it on the table. “If you ever need a friend, call me.”

  He got up and walked into the house, leaving the card on the table. I left it there too.

  The maid gave me a worried look as I walked into the beach room. Reynolds wasn’t fooling her… he probably never had. She felt sorry for someone, but I didn’t know if it was him or his mother… or me. I guessed it didn’t matter.

  ***

  As I was fixing dinner, I got a call from Paul. Reynolds had left twenty minutes after I did in his BMW. He drove into Glencoe and met a kid at a coffee shop who appeared to be about the same age as Reynolds. Paul described him as about five eight, short blond hair, medium build, and well-dressed casual. He sat at a table next to them and could easily overhear their conversation. They were talking about the next dare. It was the other kid’s turn. Reynolds said he’d come up with something even bigger than last time. The other kid drove an Audi, and Paul gave me the license number. Reynolds had gone home after the meeting.

  Paul asked if I wanted him to continue, and I told him I wasn’t looking for constant surveillance… just cover as much as he could for a couple days.

  When we hung up I called Stosh and asked him to run the plates. He said something about taxpayers’ money, and I reminded him that I was a tax paying resident of the city. So he said he’d run the plate if I’d bring the beer for our Saturday lunch. Sounded like a fair trade to me.

  Chapter 5

  I walked in with a six-pack of Schlitz, took two out, and put the rest in the fridge. Stosh had the pastrami on a plate on the counter with all the fixings. I always ate a light breakfast on Saturdays in anticipation of lunch. We ate in the living room. The Lead-Off Man with Vince Lloyd, the intro to the Cubs game, was on WGN.

  When we had finished eating, we cleaned up, and I got out the cards. Stosh came in from the kitchen, sat down, and slid a piece of paper across the table. On it was written the license plate number Paul had given me.

  “No luck?” I asked.

  “Turn it over.”

  On the other side was a name—Robert Nadem. I looked up at Stosh with raised eyebrows.

  He answered my unasked question. “Yes, Senator Robert Nadem.”

  “Well, that sweetens the pot.”

  “You could say that... along with a few other things.”

  “Like drugs and money wasn’t enough. Now we throw in politics.”

  He picked up the deck and shuffled. “First of all, you have no idea what those two were talking about. Second—”

  “I don’t? The first thing the kid does after I put the fear of God into him is run to the senator’s son. And they want to up the ante on the dares. What do you think they were talking about?”

  He shrugged and started to deal the cards. “Who’s taking Beckie Smith to the movies tonight?”

  “Sure.” I picked up my hand. “What’s second?”

  As he fanned his cards, he asked, “What?”

  “Before you were interrupted you said ‘second.’”

  He discarded a ten and scrunched his forehead. “I don’t remember.”

  I picked up the ten and discarded a three. “Well, try this. Reynolds said he was on the west side because it was part of the game. Any idea what he was talking about?”

  He picked up a card and smiled. “Gin!”

  I counted my points and picked up the deck.

  “The gang needs drugs moving on the west side,” he said. “They need to get the new kid involved. I’m guessing it’s an initiation. He’s the new guy on the block. It’s like the frats doing crazy damned things to pledges.”

  “Could be,” I said, “but the stakes are a bit higher.”

  “Just a bit.”

  I dealt, and Stosh won the hand.

  “I don’t know what I can do about this situation,” I said.

  “The drugs or your lousy gin playing? Or your birthday party.”

  I ignored him and watched him deal. “Drugs.”

  “Well, you’re not going to do anything about drugs. The people that matter don’t want that problem fixed. Your client is another story.”

  “What are you talking about? Who matters? The drug cartels? The gangs?”

  He laughed. “I guess they matter at some level, but the problem isn’t being solved, because people with a lot of money and a lot of power don’t want it solved.”

  I drew a queen to add to my pair. “And why wouldn’t they want it solved?”

  “Were you not here when I mentioned lots of money?”

  “It’s not investing in real estate… it’s drugs. People are dying.”

  “Yup. But did I mention the money?”

  I picked up another queen. “Okay, I get it, but that’s disgusting.”

  “It’s the way of the world, Spencer.”

  I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Maybe, but I’m not trying to fix the world. I’m just trying to help one kid.”

  He laid down his cards, but this time he wasn’t smiling. “Not a bad way to fix the world… one kid at a time.”

  “And that’s the other problem. I got nowhere with him. He doesn’t want to be fixed or helped. He says he already has people to take care of him… and now we know who that is. And even if he did want my help, I’m not a babysitter. All I could do would be to suggest he get some professional help. But since he doesn’t take the drugs he sells, I’m not sure what help that would be. Thward and the lawyer are working out a deal. I can’t do anything there. So what’s there for me to do?”

  “Not much.”

  I picked up a new hand. “All I can do is stay on top of what the deal is and whatever else is going on and nod politely and tell Mrs. Margot all is as good as it’s going to get.”

  “Looks that way. Easy money.”

  “It would be if I took it.”

  Before drawing a card, he said, “Gin!”

  “Damn! Let’s play Go Fish.”

  I shuffled. My luck had to change. “What are the chances Thward would talk to me?”

  “Pretty good as long as Mrs. Margot and her checkbook are looking over your shoulder.”

  “What are the chances Senator Nadem would talk to me?”

  “Zero. He wouldn’t even let
you wash his car.”

  I thought maybe he would. “You think his kid is involved?”

  “I don’t think, kid. I just—”

  “Yeah, I know. You collect evidence and follow the rules. But I get to think. If he wasn’t involved in the drugs, he’s someone Reynolds thinks is his friend and will protect him because of his father.”

  “Could be. Could be not. That’s the trouble with thinking.”

  The hands evened out for the rest of the afternoon, and the Cubs had beaten the Cards. But I was into Stosh for three dollars and twenty cents. By five we had talked me out of a job. I’d have a chat with Mrs. Margot and tell her everyone was doing what they were supposed to do, and I had nothing to add. I didn’t mind that decision at all. I didn’t like the kid, and I wasn’t fond of wasting my time. And I didn’t mind not having to talk to Thward. That guy made my skin crawl.

  “I think I’ve taken enough of your money, kid.” Stosh pulled the cards together. “You still working out?”

  “Not as much as I’d like. Make it to the gym maybe once a week and run a couple times a week, but still a well-oiled machine.” That was nothing like my old routine of running almost every day and working out at the gym three times a week. I was putting on a few pounds, losing some muscle, and probably a few tenths of a second on my punches.

  “Don’t kid yourself, Spencer. It takes routine to keep in shape.”

  “I still got it, Stosh.”

  “Hope you don’t have to find out.”

  As I slid the cards back into the box I asked, “What’s up with Rosie going to California?”

  He smiled his sardonic smile. “That’s driving you nuts, isn’t it?”

  “What is?”

  “The fact that you don’t know, and Rosie won’t tell you.”

  “How do you know she won’t tell me?”

  “Because I know Rosie.”

  “So what’s the big secret?”

  “Just business, the kind we don’t tell anybody about.”

  I set the box on the table. “I’m not anybody.”

  He was still smiling. “You are today, kid.”

  I gave up and paid the man.