Annie Seymour 01 - Sacred Cows

by Karen E. Olson

  “I think Mark Torrey’s involved somehow.”

  “Why?”

  I couldn’t explain it, but I was careful not to shrug again. I took a sip of the brandy and savored its warmth as it moved down my throat.

  “You’re right. I probably should call the cops.” I meant I should call Tom. If I kept this from him, he’d kill me before whoever wanted to got another chance.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Vinny was sitting close to me, so close I could feel the heat from his body. It was too bad for him I felt like shit or the night might have taken a very different turn. But the last thing I wanted at the moment was for anyone to actually touch me.

  “They might want to question you, too, see if you saw anything. Did you?” It hadn’t occurred to me to ask until then, I was too preoccupied with my pain.

  Vinny shook his head. “Sorry. I saw shadows. One was tall, the other a little shorter, not too much, though. I didn’t see faces, I couldn’t even tell what sex they were.”

  “One man and one woman.” I could hear their voices back in my head, but I still couldn’t place them. “But that’s all I know. I didn’t see them, either.”

  “Your neighbor downstairs, she said she didn’t think she saw anything, but maybe she did.”

  I remembered Amber’s curtain moving when I’d pulled up. “Maybe.” But I didn’t want to talk to her. It was getting too cozy, and if she had seen something, I’d owe her.

  “Why don’t you call the cops and I’ll go talk to her again.” Vinny was up and out the door before I could say anything.

  I dialed Tom’s cell phone number, and he answered on the first ring.

  “There’s been a little incident,” I started.

  “What sort of incident?” he asked warily.

  “I sort of got mugged.”

  I could hear his breath get quicker. “What do you mean, sort of?”

  “I guess I got mugged.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “A little beat up.”

  “Did he get your purse?”

  “No. I don’t think that’s what they were after.”

  A very pregnant pause, and then, “They? What were they after?”

  I took another sip of my brandy. Maybe I should get drunk before he got here. I knew where this was going. “I think it was the people who sent me that note.” And before he could say anything more, I added, “Vinny DeLucia showed up. He scared them off and brought me up to my apartment.”

  “So they were in front of your apartment? Lying in wait?”

  I thought about the car following me. “Actually, no. I think they followed me from work.” Getting drunk was sounding better and better. I drank some more brandy.

  “I’ll be right over.” I heard the dial tone, and I put the phone down. Any natural curiosity I possessed as a reporter seemed to be absent in this situation.

  Vinny came back in while I was finishing my brandy.

  “Shadows. That’s all she saw. Shadows, just like me.” He saw my empty glass. “Is he coming?”

  I nodded. “Sure. And he’ll do what you just did. I think I want to take a bath.”

  He helped me to the bathroom and filled the tub for me. Tom came in and their voices were quiet as they talked about me. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but I heard the door close and then a while later it opened again and more voices. Finally Tom stuck his head into the bathroom.

  “You okay?”

  I managed to open my eyes. The water had gotten tepid, and I started to shiver. Without a word, he brought me a towel and held me.

  “I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” I whispered. “I feel like shit.”

  He nodded. “Okay, but I’m staying tonight, and there’s no discussion.”

  I would’ve been pretty pissed if he didn’t spend the night, so I wasn’t going to say anything.

  “And in the morning, we’ll go over everything that happened. Vinny filled me in on what he could.”

  “He doesn’t know any more than me.”

  Vinny was standing awkwardly in the hall when we emerged from the bathroom, me wrapped in my fleece bathrobe with Tom’s arm still around me.

  “I guess I’ll be going. If you need any more from me, you know where to reach me.” He was talking to Tom, and he wouldn’t let himself look at me. I was sure I looked like hell, but I hadn’t looked in the mirror. I’d had too many shocks for one night.

  I think I said good night and the next thing I knew I was snuggled under my comforter and fell fast asleep.

  CHAPTER 14

  The first thing I saw when I looked out the window was a cow grazing in Wooster Square. But it was no ordinary cow. This cow had fucking pizzas painted all over it. Pepperoni pizzas.

  They had arrived.

  “What do you think of those stupid cows?” I asked Tom as he poured me a cup of coffee.

  He shrugged. “I haven’t really seen any yet.”

  “Well, look out there, there’s one.”

  He peered through the blinds and started to laugh. “Oh, Christ.”

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  I gingerly fingered the scrape on my chin. I also had bruises on my face, arms, back, and legs. I didn’t want to remember what happened, but every time I moved, it brought everything back. The cows, while idiotic, were a convenient distraction.

  “I came up with a slogan: ‘If You Moove Them, They Will Come.’ What do you think?”

  Tom chuckled. “Not bad. I guess the paper’s going to go over the top on this one.”

  “You bet. This is a tourist thing, they want people to come to the city. I personally don’t think anyone will come. They’re still too afraid of being shot to risk coming to look at fake cows. They could go to Durham and see the real things.”

  “But they smell. These cows don’t shit.”

  He had a point. But I still didn’t think anyone would come. Even though New Haven offered great theater, restaurants, nightlife, and shopping, there was still a large contingent out there in the suburbs who thought they’d become crime victims if they crossed the city line. Back in the ’70s, a girl got murdered in a parking garage downtown, which was pretty much the kiss of death for the Chapel Square Mall. It was still struggling but managing to come back slowly. And sure, there were neighborhoods that I wouldn’t visit after a certain hour if I didn’t have to, but overall, the city was a lot safer than the suburbanites thought it was.

  “They’re here till Thanksgiving?” Tom was still talking about the cows.

  I nodded. “And they’re going to be a pain in my ass until they’re gone.”

  “Why can’t you lighten up? They’re funny. Admit it.”

  His expression was so earnest, but I just couldn’t do what he asked. “Maybe you don’t remember, but I got pretty beat up last night, Tom. Somehow the cows aren’t making me feel much better.”

  “I’m going to bring in David Best.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to ask him where he was last night.”

  “You think it was him?”

  “We don’t have any other suspects. I couldn’t track down his roommate yesterday, but I think Best is behind the note you got.”

  “I couldn’t find him either,” I mused. “What about Mark Torrey?”

  Tom smiled. “What do you have against that guy?”

  “The feds are after him.”

  “Yeah, I know. But they’re being pretty closemouthed about it, won’t tell us shit.”

  I remembered Paula saying the same thing about the city cops and suppressed a smile. “So you don’t know any details?”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

  “Apparently he’s been taking people’s money, claiming he’s going to invest it, and then the money disappears.”

  He shook his head. “What an asshole.”

  “He apparently ripped off my mother.”

  “No shit.”

  “She hasn’t called me back so I can’
t confirm that she got the feds after him. I can’t write the story until I can get someone on the record.”

  He didn’t ask me who I’d gotten this from. He knew Paula, but they were always careful to keep business out of any conversation if we were socializing. It was mutual respect for each other’s profession. I never bothered to remind them that I was the Evil Media.

  The phone rang. I reached for the receiver.

  “Are you never at work on time?” It was my mother.

  “It’s only nine o’clock, Mother. I don’t have to punch a clock.” I tried to keep my voice light—I did need her, after all.

  “So you wanted to talk to me? I hope you’re not going to lecture me about Bill.”

  “No. I don’t care who you go out with.” That was a lie, but if I said it, maybe she’d be more amenable to talking about Mark Torrey. “Paula tells me you were one of the people Mark Torrey embezzled from.” I don’t like to beat around the bush.

  “Have you seen any of those cows yet?” She doesn’t like to answer anything she doesn’t want to answer.

  “Please tell me, Mother. Don’t change the subject.”

  “You want a story. I don’t want to give you one.”

  “But I’ll find out, with or without you, and at least this way you can make a statement.”

  She loves to make statements. I knew I had her on that one.

  “How close are you?” I knew she meant to having the story.

  “Pretty close.” I paused. “He’s got your money.” Then I took a stab in the dark: “And Bill Bennett’s.”

  “You have to keep him out of it.”

  “Who? Bill Bennett? But he’s a victim, too.”

  “But it wasn’t just his personal money.”

  Something very evil was dawning on me. “He didn’t invest the pension money, did he?” There were rumors that something was going on with our pension money. But this would be pretty bad. And it would never see print. I wasn’t that naive to think that I could write this story and it wouldn’t get held. Until at least the year 3000.

  “I’m not sure whose it was. This is off the record, dear.” Her voice was firm and not very endearing.

  “Can you give me anything?” I would have to deal with the Bill Bennett angle later. “You’re not the only victim, and he could be swindling innocent people as we speak. We have a responsibility to tell the public about him.” It was my crusading journalist speech, and it almost always worked.

  “I’ll think about it.” She sighed, and I could tell she was very tired. For a moment, I wasn’t a reporter trying to get a story.

  “Did you invest a lot with him? Are you okay?”

  “It’s been a bit difficult. I took quite a bit of my divorce settlement money and invested it. It’s all gone now.”

  “But you’re successful. You’ll get it back.” I knew she would. She worked eighty hours a week and charged her clients more than should be legal.

  “I’ll have something drafted for you. You can pick it up after lunch.”

  I hung up and watched Tom finish his coffee. “It’s too easy.”

  “What?”

  “She’s giving me something. It’s too easy. There’s got to be a catch.”

  Tom reached over and touched my cheek. “Can’t you trust someone for once? Stop being so cynical?”

  I pulled my face away and winced when my head swirled with pain. “You should talk,” I said, trying to ignore it. “You’re a cop. Cops are the most cynical people I know.”

  He was shaking his head. “You have us all beat.”

  “When are you going to bring in David Best?”

  “Are you going to work?” Tom asked.

  I suppose it was a fair question. I was feeling rather under the weather, and I knew I must look like hell. It would raise some eyebrows and I’m sure more than one person would make a comment about my appearance and express curiosity how I got into such a state. Because even for me this was bad.

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “It’s getting late.” So he and my mother were co-conspirators. “I think you better call in.”

  “I look that bad?”

  “Yes.”

  I picked up the phone. This was a man who thought I looked good anytime, anyplace. If he was telling me I looked awful, I must really look like shit.

  Marty picked up on the first ring.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m not feeling well.”

  “So?”

  I never call in sick. I’m one of those annoying people co-workers curse because I’ll just bring a big box of tissues and suffer through my day.

  “I can’t come in.” Not to mention that I didn’t sound sick.

  “Oh.” He hesitated, uncertain about this curious turn of events.

  The hell with it. “Okay, Marty, this is the scoop. I got mugged last night. Someone threatened me and then someone beat me up and tried to abduct me.”

  “Sure, Annie. Fine. I believe you’re sick. You don’t have to make up stuff.”

  “I’m not making it up.”

  He actually laughed. “Give me a break. What time will you come in?”

  I sighed. “I’m not coming in, Marty. I got mugged. Tom’s here. He’s going to try to find out if it’s connected to Melissa Peabody.”

  Silence. I could hear him thinking. Then finally, “You’re serious.”

  “Damned straight I’m serious. Would I joke around about something like this?”

  “Yes.”

  Okay, so I probably would.

  “Today’s the cow inaugural,” he said.

  “Then it’s a good day to be sick.”

  “We’ve got a team working on that. You’re really not coming in? I need some stuff for the police blotter, and no one else can get the cops to give them anything.”

  He knew how to make me feel guilty. “Listen, I could make some cop calls, send a couple of things over by e-mail.”

  “It would be a big help.” I could tell the cows were going to weigh heavily on Marty until they were gone.

  “I’ve got a cow covered in pepperonis outside my window.”

  He laughed. “That’s the Mooster Street cow.”

  It was going to be a long two months.

  Tom was getting his coat on. “I’ll give you a call later.”

  “Will you tell me if you find the guy who did this?”

  He walked over to me and took my face in his hands. “I’ll kill him, I swear.” Then he kissed me and left.

  I’m not quite sure what to do with myself when I’m not working. I like to read, but my attention span is short unless I’ve got something really riveting. I looked over my bookshelves and found nothing that fell into that category. At least nothing I hadn’t already read. I turned on the TV and channel-surfed while I finished my coffee. I spent a few minutes with Ellen, then less time with Dr. Phil. I skipped over Elmo and the Sesame Street gang and some crafty shit on the Home & Garden network. It was a wasteland. I was sorry it wasn’t later in the day. I admit to being secretly hooked on General Hospital. My mother used to watch it before she became Super Lawyer and through osmosis I got stuck on it.

  I called a couple of police stations and got the runaround. I wanted to call Bill Bennett and ask him if my pension money was in Mark Torrey’s Channel Islands account, but toasted a bagel instead. When the phone rang, I jumped on it, eager for any human contact.

  “I’m on my way over.” It was Vinny.

  “What for?”

  “I think I’ve got something.”

  But before I could ask what, he’d hung up. Within minutes, my doorbell rang. I buzzed him in.

  “Your friend Hickey knows more than he’s saying.” Vinny bounded over to the window in my living room and turned around to see my reaction.

  Which was, pissed off.

  “Can’t you even say hello?”

  “Hello. Hickey knows something. I’m sure of it.”

  “Do you want a cup of coffee?” />
  “Black. Don’t you want to know what I think?”

  I’d spent the last twenty years not even aware that Vinny DeLucia was alive, so to wonder what he was thinking seemed a little out there. I went into the kitchen and poured him some coffee. My silence was annoying him. For the first time that day I was enjoying myself.

  When I came out of the kitchen, Vinny made a face. “Oh, Christ, you look awful.”

  I handed Vinny the cup and sat down. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Sorry. But you usually look so much, well, better than that.”

  It didn’t exactly sound like a compliment, but I decided to take it as one. “Okay, tell me what Hickey knows.”

  “Hickey’s got a secret bank account.”

  “Like he wouldn’t. Listen, he’s a fucking pimp. Wouldn’t you have a secret account?” I sounded more cocky than I felt. I admit I was intrigued.

  “But one that gets money dumped in it regularly from the McGee Corporation, via the Channel Islands?”

  I straightened up, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. “How much money?”

  “Thousands at a time.”

  “No shit. How do you know?”

  Vinny smiled. “I have my ways.”

  “You’re a computer geek, aren’t you? You hacked into some secret place and found it, didn’t you?” I always wanted to hack into an important place like a bank or the federal government, just to see how it was done, just to see what I could find out. But my computer skills are minimal at best.

  Vinny continued to smile and sip his coffee.

  “So it’s for more than the girls?”

  “It’s too much to be just for the girls.”

  I thought for a minute. “You know, I think he was really trying to help me.”

  “Then why didn’t he tell you about this? He wasn’t up front about his relationship with Torrey.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know what Torrey was up to.”

  “Oh, come on. He had to know something. And maybe Melissa found out and that’s what got her killed.”

  “Tom thinks it was David Best.”

  “Yeah, and there’s a cow on every corner.”

  “There is a cow on every corner. Haven’t you seen them?”

  “Right. I bumped into one outside City Hall. It was covered in mirrors.”

  I didn’t want to talk about the cows. They gave me the creeps. “I think Melissa was asking questions. I think Torrey killed her. So how do we prove that? Torrey’s nowhere to be found. He’s got people’s money that he’s not supposed to have. Since you’re a computer genius, can you find out about that?”