I put on the headphones to listen to the tape of the afternoon’s conversation. I fast forwarded through a bunch of bullshit, ’til I got to the point…Simmons’ secretary on the line saying, “Hold on just a moment, Mr. Haven. He’ll be right with you. “
A pause, I could hear Haven pacing in the background. He was on the speaker, but my guess is that he’d get off real quick once Simmons got on the line. “Andrew…”
“Jack…how are you?”
Just like I thought, I could hear Haven taking the speaker phone off as Simmons replied, “We need to wrap up a few things. Just some odds and ends.”
Silence on the other end. I could hear Haven breathing hard, but he wasn’t saying anything.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Sorry, Jack, of course, right away…but—”
Simmons cut him off, he wasn’t about to let Haven spill anything else. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We can talk then.” Again silence, from Haven. Click. Simmons had hung up.
Not exactly a road map, but it definitely confirmed that Haven and Simmons were in on something together. And my guess was that it had to do with those mystery accounts. Now if I could just figure the hell out what they were.
I looked down at the paper Simmons had given me. Samurai Club, 504 Oak. Definitely a beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Detective Bob
Soft Japanese music was playing in the background. The place was dark. I could barely make out the outlines of Japanese businessmen sitting on cushions on the floor with tiny Geisha girl types hovering over them.
I wandered in and settled on a barstool.
“Can I help you?”
“Jack Daniels on the rocks, thanks.”
Normally, I wouldn’t drink on the job, but I needed a drink after the week I’d had.
The bartender sat the drink in front of me. “Here you are. Anything else?”
I took a sip. Sticking my forefinger in the glass licking off the Jack and pretended like I didn’t hear his question. “Mainly Japanese come to this place?”
“No…well…yeah actually I guess most of our clients are Japanese, but we see a lot of American businessmen, too.”
He fiddled with the bottles behind the bar. I continued talking in between slow gulps of my Jack. “I was just wondering, ’cause a friend of mine told me about this place. He said he used to come here a lot.”
“Is he Japanese?”
“No…a black guy. Works around here. He used to tell me all kinds of things about this place.”
The bartender broke into a grin. “Tall guy…right. Always dressed well. He’d usually come in with an older white gentleman. I remember. He always gave good tips. His name was something kind of different…”
“January.”
“Yeah, that was it January.” He dried some glasses. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Yeah, he moved…great guy.” I put my glass down coolly, trying not to look like I was digging for info. “I was supposed to have come with him, about a year ago. There was gonna be a group of us, some clients of his and the older guy and me. But I couldn’t make it. “
I expected him to keep on talking easily, but just as he was about to answer me, someone from the back motioned him over. He ducked away quickly saying. “Be right back.”
I drained the rest of my Jack, the place had started to get a little more crowded. I noticed that small groups of men were disappearing with one or more of the women into a back room. I smiled to myself. Those Geishas were your basic call girls with a few more clothes on.
“You were looking for someone?”
Startled, I turned around to the most expressionless face I’d ever seen: a thin Japanese man, dressed completely in black, with his dark hair slicked back.
“Yeah…a friend told me to come here.”
“Well if you’d like an appointment with one of our ladies, I can make that for you. Otherwise, we don’t encourage single gentleman alone at the bar. We’re not that kind of place.” The man kept staring at me. Still no expression on his face. “So if you don’t mind leaving.”
I was pissed that he’d blown what looked like a good lead. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do mind. I pulled out my badge, flashing it in his stony face.
He didn’t flinch, just continued in a measured controlled voice. “Detective, if you have official business here, you can make an appointment to talk to the owner Mr. Sato in the morning. Otherwise, as I said, I’d appreciate it if you left.”
I felt like blasting his head wide open, damn fuckin’ foreigners. “Look, I don’t know who the hell you are, but—”
Outta nowhere these two sumo wrestler looking types appeared and were about to grab me when the Japanese guy called ’em off, saying some garbage in Japanese.
I got right up in that guy’s face. “I don’t know how the hell they do it in Japan, but here, what you almost did was called assaulting a police officer. Something you and these overweight assholes can go to jail for.”
“Detective, I apologize, but as I suggested, it would be better if you came back tomorrow.”
“After I finish, talking to your bartender.”
“He’s gone for the day.”
I looked around quickly, and sure enough he’d disappeared and my guess was probably not to be seen anytime soon.
“Feel free to look around, but I can guarantee you that he’s left.”
Shit. I cursed at myself. I fished in my pocket for a ten. Without looking at the guy I threw the cash on the bar saying. “For the drink.” The night air felt good, I needed to clear my head. I couldn’t remember when I’d blown a set up that completely. Losing my cool, showing my badge, practically broadcasting to the guy and everybody in there…hey I’m looking for something, you’re under suspicion, better hide everything. Shit.
I was losing it. Every time I thought I’d made a little progress, back to square one again. About the only good thing to come out of that little fiasco was that I knew now that Clive had gone to the place with Simmons. And that more than likely the foreign clients were Japanese. That narrowed it down to about a million companies now. I took out my calendar. Twenty-six days left and still nothing. One suspect AWOL, another lead probably blown because I couldn’t just be cool. Andy Haven…still a live one…but I had to make sure before I went off half-cocked at him that I knew what I was looking for, and I just didn’t. I just didn’t know shit.
The rumble of the train blotted out my thoughts. Sometimes the intensity of the noise was good. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t think. I just sit while every jolt brought me closer to my bed.
I tossed some change to the drunk on the corner of my street. Normally I’da looked the other way. If I gave change to every bum in New York, I’d be broke in a day. But ’cause I was feeling sorry for myself, I was feeling sorry for him, too, so I tossed him a dollar.
Walking closer to my place, I noticed somebody sitting on the stoop. I couldn’t see that well in the half-light, so it was a minute before I realized that it was her. Margie. “What are you doing here?”
She didn’t move, just kinda smiled that half-smile of hers. “What happened to hello?”
I took out my key, avoiding her eyes. “Look, if you’ve come to tell me what a fuck up I am and how everybody thinks I’m blowing the case, I don’t need it. ’Cause I already know, okay?”
I opened the door. I didn’t close it behind me. I guess I was half hoping that she’d follow me in.
“Maybe, I should just leave.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t in the mood to beg today. “Do what you gotta do.”
“Bob.” She followed me into my apartment saying in a matter of fact voice, “Do you want to talk?”
I looked in the liquor cabinet. Shit no more Jack. “Not really.”
“Okay, then I’ll talk.”She opened her bag and took out some papers. “I was doing some more looking at those files that weren’t on Gray’s list.”
I think she expected m
e to respond. When I didn’t, she just kept on. “I found one that seemed suspicious. Not because of what it did have, but what it didn’t.” She didn’t wait for me to ask what she was talking about. She just pulled out a file.
“Like look at this one. It has the name of the client, the stock that was traded, the dates, the brokers’ names, commissions, everything. This is pretty much what all of them had…except for this one.”She opened another file. “See this one has code numbers under each of the headings…name of client—504, stock traded—504, broker’s name—504. Same numbers as the name of client. Now I’m not an expert on the stock market, but I do know from when I worked at Merrill that clients don’t trade their own accounts. I mean if they were going to do that why come to a firm like January’s and pay their commission?”
I didn’t want to concede right away that she might be onto something. “Maybe it’s just a new filing system?”
“Well then why wouldn’t more than one of the files be listed like this?”
I was quiet for a minute. “Lemme see that again?” I looked at the number. 504. Why did it seem familiar? “You know what?”
“What?”
“I think I’m gonna check this out first thing tomorrow.”
She smiled triumphantly. I put the file down on the table, turning to her saying, “One more thing.”
“Yes…”
“You know you’re not supposed to remove evidence from the station.”She circled around me, whispering in my ear, “It’s a copy.”
Laughing, I shook my head, thinking of Margie sneaking the file out making a copy, and then sticking it in that suitcase of hers that she called a purse. “That’s my girl.”
“So I did good, Detective?”
I wanted to pull her to me, but I stopped myself, swallowing hard. “Yeah, you did real good. In fact, this is the second time you’ve pulled my ass out on this case.” I sat down, staring at the spot on the rug where we spilled the bottle of wine that night years ago.
“So why are you doing all of this for me?”
She was silent. I got up and pulled her next to me on the couch. “Why don’t you spend the night?”
She kinda edged away from me. “Bob…I don’t…”she whispered.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have the bed.”
I took her hand, wanting to kiss each of her perfect fingers, but I didn’t. “It’d just be nice to have the company…you know…that’s all.”
The last thing I remember was her kissing me on the forehead as I closed my eyes on that lumpy-assed couch. Faces began coming to me. Clive’s face and voices. I could hear someone talking to him, telling him that he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t help me anymore. In my head I saw myself a few weeks ago. Sitting there naked from the waist up, lookin’ at the doctor. Him asking me…
“Bob, how long have you had the stomach problems?”
“Oh I dunno. About a couple of weeks, maybe a month.” The doctor raised one eyebrow. I glanced over at him, my ass aching on the cold table I was sitting on. I hated doctors and hospitals and everything about ’em. Didn’t have any use for ’em. But it’d gotten so the nausea was almost all the time, even after Clive left me, so I finally broke down and went in.
“And the hand tremors, when did they start?”
I lied. What could I say, ever since Clive January started takin’ over my life my hand hadn’t stopped shaking. “’Bout the same time, a month ago maybe.”
“I see…well we better run some tests.”
After I got the call to come back in, I was sittin’ on that cold assed hard table again.
“Bob, we don’t know exactly what’s wrong. It’s almost like your system is shutting down, your blood count is low, your lung capacity is compromised. What exactly is going on in your life?”
“Nothin’, doc, just the usual stress of being a cop.”
I don’t think he bought it, but he gave me some pills. “Slow down, Bob, because whatever you’re doing is eating you up inside.”
Then the voices, Clive’s voice, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying, only somebody else saying, “He’s on his own…he has to be…it’s got to be that way now.”
I woke up in a cold sweat. The room was empty. I could hear Margie turning over in the bedroom. The bed squeaked as she shifted position. The voices still rung in my head. Saying you can’t help him. I had felt like the last time Clive had come in that somehow he wasn’t as strong as he’d been. Something was pulling him away from me. He was fighting, fighting to come through me, to guide me, but a force stronger than his will was blocking him. I shivered, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. Something or somebody was trying to save me, the tremors, the nausea, what the doctor said was happening to me. But knowing the truth was the only thing that could really save both of us.
Margie was gone by the time I got up. I rolled off the couch, aching everywhere, still trying to make sense of the dream I’d had. I stumbled into the kitchen. She’d left me a pot of hot coffee and a note…WAKE UP SLEEPY HEAD, MARGIE…and two little hearts. I smiled, but my mind was on Clive. I poured a mug for myself and stared out the window.
* * *
Clive
bob greene!!!!!!!!! i know i’m shouting…before my words would have blasted through your head…but now…only silence…the god awful silence i’ve been in since i was pushed here to this place, this netherworld. i feel like i’m tunneling deeper into the darkness. i’m fighting it. i can still see shooting rays of light, but with every breath they’re getting further and further away.
so this is hell.
why won’t they let me help you. i can see you. i’m around you, but you don’t see or hear me anymore. the voices again…telling me that my time is up…you have to do it now, and if you don’t, the force that i’m fighting will pull me all the way down, and i’ll never have peace. but neither will you, bob greene. bob greene!
* * *
I jumped. For a minute, I thought I heard somebody calling my name. I looked into the coffee cup, half expecting to see Clive’s face smiling up at me. But only dank, slightly cold coffee. I sighed, scratching my day-old stubble and walking into the bathroom.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Laurel
This was Hendersonville. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Track homes and malls. The sleepy little town of the sixties was gone, completely gone. Even the street names were different. I wanted to stop and ask someone what had happened to the place where it all started for me. But I was afraid: afraid my face would be known again, afraid of running through woods and icy cold waters, afraid of everything because I knew that he wasn’t here anymore. It’s as if Clive put his protective covering around me long enough for me to arrive in Hendersonville, and then just as quickly as he came, withdrew. I was aware of it when his energy started leaving me, and now I knew that he was gone completely.
I looked around the unfamiliar town. Why was I here, to complete the shame and disgrace by being apprehended where I had first seduced him? I didn’t know. I pulled a handful of bills from my pocket. I was now officially a thief as well as a fugitive. I’d slipped into a gas station bathroom on the way and helped myself to the money in the woman’s purse that she’d left on the sink while she was in the stall. But at least now I could eat.
I devoured the muffin I’d surreptitiously bought at the drugstore and gulped down the milk. I was about to inhale the bag of Fritos when I heard, “Laurel…Laurel Davenport?”
I looked up guiltily into the smiling eyes of Ralph Warner, my old boss. Before I could say anything, he lifted me up in the biggest and most suffocating bear hug I’d had in years. His chestnut brown face broke into ridges of smiles. His stomach, which toppled over the front of his worn leather belt, squeezed into my chest. He laughed like he’d just found his long lost best friend. “I can’t believe it. After all these years…what brings you back here?”
I couldn’t exactly say that I was wanted for the murder of one of his students
. I smiled. “I wanted to see the old town.”
He grinned. “Pretty different huh?”
“Completely.”
“Hurricane Betty pretty much destroyed everything in 1981. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it; we were on Ted Koppel.”
I couldn’t even remember 1981. I was in New York, with Clive, but that’s all I remembered.
“The federal disaster relief rebuilt the whole thing from the ground up.” He beamed as if he’d personally laid every new brick. He put his arm around my shoulder. “Now I’m just gonna insist that you come on over for dinner…that is if you’re not leaving right away?”
“No…no…not at all.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see a police car heading up the street. I quickly lowered my head, hoping that they wouldn’t see me. The car stopped for a minute. I couldn’t tell if the policeman was looking at me or not, but then it rolled back up the street.
“We can walk. It’s not far. So tell me what you been doing with yourself?”
I couldn’t speak, because there in front of me was the place I’d first seen Clive. Peeling away the years, leaning against that tree. Even with the new homes and the unfamiliar streets, I’d never forget that place. Three trees that had grown up so much against each other that there was a small space, between them. He’s sitting there and now I don’t know if it’s now or then, but I see him just the way I first saw him.
“You’re new here?” Startled I looked up into dark eyes, the kind of eyes that revealed no secrets. He was tall and fine, dark hair, medium brown skin, wispy mustache, maybe Hendersonville would be more fun than I thought.
He smiled at me, a kind of sexy inviting smile. I caught the look, and smiled back. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I just got in town a week ago.”
He got up and leaned toward me. “I’m Clive.”
“Well, hello. I’m Laurel. “
“Where are you from, Laurel?” His words were light and teasing, but his eyes betrayed nothing.
“Oh here and there.” I could tell he was the type that didn’t like things too easy.
“Okay, Miss here and there, where’re you headed now?”
A Dead Man Speaks Page 26
