Unnatural acts sb-23

by Stuart Woods

  Josh allowed Herbie to return to his place, then he sat on the table and addressed the group. “Now, let’s talk about guns. If you’re pursuing a career in protection because it allows you to shoot people legally, you’re in the wrong line of work. Join the army. Here are the rules about guns. One, never carry a gun. If it’s absolutely necessary to carry a gun, don’t, unless you’re licensed to carry a concealed weapon in the jurisdiction where you ’ re working. You are going to have a long class on how to become licensed almost anywhere, complete with the forms and fingerprinting necessary. Two, if you are carrying a gun, never withdraw the weapon from its holster. Three, if you ignore two, due to circumstances beyond your control, and withdraw the weapon from its holster, never point it at anyone. Four, if you should foolishly point it at someone, never touch the trigger. It is very good if eyewitnesses to a gun in your hand see your trigger finger laid along the barrel, instead of on the trigger. Five, if you should accidentally touch the trigger, never pull or squeeze it, unless during this whole process you have become absolutely convinced that the loss of your own life is imminent if you do not pull the trigger. Six-and this is the second most important rule, after number one-if you make the decision to pull the trigger, DO NOT MISS! We will be conducting classes in not missing every day of your visit with us.”

  Josh hopped down from the table. “Now we’ll take a fifteen-minute break so that you can pee in your pants. After that, one of my associates, an expert with the fighting knife, will demonstrate to you how to introduce an assailant to his own intestines. Bring something to throw up in.” He walked out of the gym, leaving his students to mill about.

  38

  Stone and Dino met for lunch at P.J. Clarke’s.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” Dino asked. “You sounded funny on the phone.”

  “Funny ha ha or funny queer?”

  “Funny queer. Ha ha.”

  “You’re right. Marla Rocker has a problem, maybe a very serious problem. I’ve moved her into my house for a few days while we sort this out.”

  “You mean, while I sort it out.”

  “I mean, I’ll sort out her problems, but you can make the arrest.”

  “Gee, who do I get to arrest?”

  “A man named Ed Abney.”

  “And who the fuck is Ed Abney?”

  “He runs a publicity agency called Bright Lights, Ink, with a ‘k.’”

  “Cute. Did he issue an illegal press release?”

  “You know the actress found dead in the apartment in your precinct a couple of days ago?”

  “You’re just wondering if I know what goes on in my precinct, aren’t you?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Annette Redfield.”

  “You win this,” Stone said, handing him a French fry.

  Dino ate the French fry. “I want to thank everybody who voted for me.”

  “Ed Abney scared Annette Redfield enough so that she was about to flee the city to get away from him.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Remember the other night at Marla’s opening-night party?”

  “Yes.”

  “She saw Abney there with Redfield. Abney has been sort of stalking Marla, in spite of her asking him to go away. Redfield followed her into the ladies’ john and told her to watch out for him, that he has a history of violence with women. Apparently, she was talking about herself, since she was about to make a run for it.”

  Dino got out his cell phone and pressed a speed dial button. “Viv? Bacchetti. We’ve got a suspect in the Annette Redfield strangling, name of Ed Abney.” He gave her the name of Abney’s agency and told her about Marla’s conversation with Redfield at Sardi’s. “No, don’t pick him up just yet. I want to know if Abney has an arrest record and if he has any TROs out on him. Call me back with results before you make an arrest. Thanks, kiddo.” Dino hung up.

  “So you’ve got DeCarlo on speed dial now?”

  “It makes it easier to dial her.”

  “I’ll bet. How many of your other detectives do you have on speed dial?”

  Dino ignored that one. “What are you doing about Marla?”

  “I’m keeping her at my house, and I sent Allison to court to get a TRO against Abney.”

  Dino looked at his watch. “How long ago?”

  “Around ten this morning.”

  “See if you can stop her,” Dino said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to rattle the guy’s cage just yet. We’ll have a moment later when we can use the TRO to piss him off.”

  Stone pressed Allison’s speed dial number.

  “Allison here.”

  “It’s Stone. Have you made the application for the TRO yet?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Get it but don’t serve it yet. Dino wants to wait a bit.”

  “What’s Dino got to do with it?”

  “Dino is the police, remember? He feels that he should do some investigation before we slap Abney with the TRO.”

  “Whatever you say. Who do I bill for this on my time sheet?”

  “Call it pro bono.”

  “Sounds more like pro boner to me,” she said, then hung up.

  Stone laughed and put his phone away. “She said it sounds more like ‘pro boner.’”

  Dino laughed. “Smart girl, Allison.”

  “Smart-ass,” Stone said.

  When Stone got back to his office he found Marla, Joan, and Allison sitting in his office, giggling.

  “Did you ladies get into the cooking sherry?” he asked.

  “No, it was your bourbon,” Joan replied, getting up. “Come on, Allison, Simon Legree has returned.” The two women went back to their own offices.

  “So,” Stone said, “what’s happened that made the three of you need a drink in the early afternoon?”

  “It’s not all that early,” Marla said.

  “Two-thirty is early. I’m going to have to start marking the bottle. Now come on, give.”

  “Oh, all right. I went over to my house to get a few things.”

  “Marla…”

  “I know, I know, you told me not to go over there without you. It’s all right, I took Joan.” She took a sip of her bourbon. “And she took her gun.”

  “Swell,” Stone said. “What will the neighbors think? The two of you traipsing around Turtle Bay Gardens with a gun.”

  “Who cares?”

  “You still haven’t told me what rattled you. And don’t tell me you’re not rattled. I know when Joan is rattled, and she doesn’t rattle easily, and if she’s rattled, you’re rattled.”

  Marla took another sip of her bourbon. “The house had been ransacked.”

  “Ransacked?”

  “Well, not the whole house, just the living room and my bedroom.”

  “Ransacked?”

  “Stop saying that-you know what it means.”

  “What, exactly, does it mean in the context of your house?”

  “Things had been upset in the living room, thrown around.”

  “And in your bedroom?”

  “The same. And some of the drawers had been pulled out.”

  “Which drawers?”

  “The ones with my drawers in them.”

  “Did your visitor leave any, ah, message?”

  “You mean like the semen on my drawers?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You could say he made his presence known.”

  “How do you know it was semen?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really, Stone.”

  “All right, all right. What did you do?”

  “I grabbed a few things, and we got the hell out of there.”

  “What did you do with the semen stains?”

  “Do with them? Yuck!”

  “I mean, are they still there?”

  “Well, I wanted to put the garments in question in the garbage, but Joan stopped me.”

  “Good,” Stone said, picking up the phone. “That’
s evidence. I’ll get Dino to send somebody over there.”

  “They’d better come here first and get my key.”

  “Right.” Stone started dialing.

  39

  Dink Brennan was playing some one-on-one in the fenced-in exercise court of his unit with Otto, the large man who was his watchdog and only companion. Dink let him score, and then they sat down at a picnic table nearby to cool off.

  “You’re doing okay, Dink,” Otto said. “I’m proud of you.”

  “It’s important to me to do well here,” Dink replied. “And I want to thank you for helping me.”

  “That’s my job,” Otto said.

  “Tell me about you, Otto. You married? Kids?”

  “Married fifteen years, a thirteen-year-old daughter.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “The wife is Betty, the daughter is Caroline. She’s something, Caroline-smartest kid you ever saw. Won a scholarship to Choate Rosemary Hall!”

  “Funny, I went there,” Dink said. “Good thing she won a scholarship. It’s an expensive school.”

  “Well, the scholarship pays only half. I’ve got to come up with the rest.”

  “Jeez, that’s what, twenty grand?”

  “Twenty-one,” Otto said. “I can manage the one. Betty wants to get a job to help, but she’s not well-really bad asthma.”

  “Do me a favor, Otto,” Dink said. “Let me use your cell phone.”

  “What for?” Otto said. “And you’re not allowed to have a cell phone. I’d get in trouble.”

  “Okay, you dial a number for me. Don’t worry, it’s just my bank-you won’t get into trouble.”

  Otto picked up his jacket and came up with his phone.

  Dink gave Otto the number. “What’s your last name?”

  “Krieger.” Otto tapped in the number and listened. “Whaddaya know?” he said. “It’s your bank.” He handed Dink the phone.

  “Lora Trenkle, please,” Dink said. “Hello, Lora? Dink Brennan. Just fine. I assume you’ve made the necessary adjustments to my accounts since I have access to my trust. Good. I’d like to send a wire transfer to the bursar at Choate Rosemary Hall School. You’ll have to call them for the account information. Twenty-one thousand, for the tuition of Caroline Krieger. Can you still get that out today? Great, and please deposit one hundred thousand from my trust into my checking account. Thanks so much.” Dink handed the phone back to Otto. “Done.”

  Otto stared at him in disbelief. “That was a joke, right?”

  “Call the bursar in an hour,” Dink said.

  “Dink, why would you do that?”

  “It is for a worthy cause. Caroline sounds like a great kid.”

  “I’m overwhelmed,” Otto said. He looked at Dink suspiciously. “You want something from me?”

  Dink got up and grabbed the basketball. “Just another game. I’ll spot you two points.” He threw the ball to Otto.

  During the next few days, Otto became Dink’s manservant. He brought burgers from a fast-food place, books from the library-self-help books, mostly. He couldn’t do enough.

  “I’ve spoken to the director,” Otto said one day, “and told him I think you should be returned to your old quarters. I talked to Dr. Morton, too, and he seemed to agree with me. It’ll probably be tomorrow. I’ll get your things out of storage.”

  “Gee, thanks, Otto,” Dink said.

  The following day, Dink walked into his old room and found his civilian clothes on his bed and an envelope containing his wallet. There were no credit cards, of course-Herb Fisher had cut those in half-but his driver’s license was there, and a little over a hundred dollars. The next morning, Dink was having coffee with Otto in the rec room. “There’s a terrific movie on in town,” he said. “I saw it in the local paper. I hear the management allows trips to the village. Why don’t we go this afternoon?”

  “They’ll sometimes let us take a day trip,” Otto said. “I’ll see what I can do.” He left and walked toward the administrative offices, then returned ten minutes later. “We’re on,” he said. “Starts at two-thirty.”

  Otto drove Dink into the village and parked on Main Street. The theater was two buildings from the corner gas station, as Dink had remembered. Otto bought him a ticket, and they went inside. Twenty minutes into the feature, Dink grabbed his gut and made a grunting sound. “I’ve got to go to the john,” he whispered to Otto.

  “Okay.”

  Dink left the theater and walked quickly down to the gas station, where he found the owner reading a newspaper. “Hi,” Dink said. “My name’s Brennan. You’ve got my car stored here.”

  “Right,” the man said. “Can I see some ID?”

  Dink showed him his driver’s license.

  “Take me a minute,” the man said. “I gassed it up when it came in.” Ten minutes later, the man was back with Dink’s BMW convertible. “You’re all paid up,” the man said, handing him the keys.

  Dink gave him a twenty and pulled out of the station. It felt good to be out and behind the wheel. He headed for New Haven. He drove to his dorm and found the custodian.

  “Hi, Paul. Can you let me into my room? I’ve lost the key.”

  “Hey, Mr. Brennan. The boss said you’d left school, so I boxed up your stuff.”

  “I’ll save you the trouble of getting rid of it,” Dink said.

  The man unlocked the door. “There’s some mail, too. It’s on your desk, and there’s a package.”

  Dink had thought there might be mail. He riffled through the envelopes and found three he wanted. They contained the new credit cards and an ATM card that Parker Mosely had ordered to replace the ones Herb Fisher had destroyed.

  Then he turned his attention to the larger package. He opened it with a box cutter. Inside was a beautiful leather briefcase, one that matched his luggage. He opened the case and found a card inside: “Happy Birthday! You’re a man now. Love, Dad.” The old man didn ’ t forget, he thought. How about that?

  He packed his suitcases with some clothes, then he found his passport and checkbook in a desk drawer and put them into the briefcase with his Mac Air. He carried the cases out to his car, stowed them in the trunk, and headed for New York City. Once in the city he visited the Apple store and bought a new iPhone. His old one had disappeared. His first call was to the Lowell, a small, elegant hotel on East Sixty-third Street, near Madison. He booked himself a suite, then retrieved his car from the garage, drove there, and checked in.

  Herbie was in his room at the Strategic Defense training center, sore from exertion and with tired arms from firing a pistol-something he discovered he did very accurately. His cell phone rang.

  “Herb Fisher.”

  “Mr. Fisher, this is the director at the farm,” a male voice said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Oh, God, Herbie thought, the kid has died, or something.

  “What’s happened?”

  “We allowed young Mr. Brennan to make a day trip into the village with a staff member, and he managed to get away from him. We haven’t been able to locate the boy.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “No, he hasn’t committed a crime, and he was here voluntarily.”

  “But he committed himself.”

  “He agreed to that under your guardianship, but that’s no longer in effect.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he had his twenty-first birthday the day before yesterday.”

  “Shit,” Herbie said.

  “Well, yes. I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do for him, unless you can persuade him to return voluntarily.”

  “Thank you,” Herbie said, then hung up. Now what?

  40

  Shelley Bach sat at the dressing table in her room at the Carlyle and regarded her image in the mirror. She used a hand mirror to look at her profile and liked what she saw, even without makeup. There were still a few red places, but as she sponged on her makeup, they magically went away. She liked her new a
uburn hair, too; it went beautifully with her natural, pale skin color. She dressed and left the hotel.

  Now she made her third visit to her new dentist for the fitting of her new smile. The veneers from the dental lab corrected small irregularities in her front teeth, and they were whiter than the originals. She had approved them on her second visit, when they had been affixed to a mold of her teeth. Now they were put permanently in place. She gave the receptionist her credit card and regarded herself in the mirror. She was exactly what she had wanted to be: a different person. No one who knew her would recognize her with her new profile, her new teeth, and her new clothes. She looked ten years younger, and she was no longer the government drone she had been at the FBI; she was a New York woman.

  Now all she wanted was to go shopping. Oh, and one other thing: she wanted a man. She stepped out onto Madison Avenue and swung her long legs toward Seventy-second Street and the Ralph Lauren store.

  Dino looked up from his desk to see Viv DeCarlo standing at his office door. She looked great, he thought: slim, but busty, black hair as thick as fur, nice clothes. She seemed to be dressing better these days. “Yeah, Viv? What have you got?”

  “I’ve got two TROs on Ed Abney,” she said, “but a few years back. I have a theory about that.”

  “Have a seat. What’s your theory?”

  Viv sat down and crossed her legs. “I think he’s never stopped abusing women,” she said, “but I think he’s gotten better at intimidating them. I think that’s the only reason there are no recent TROs.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Dino said. “Are you ready to make an arrest?”

  “I’m not sure about that,” she said. “All we’ve got are the old TROs and Marla Rocker’s statement about what Annette said to her in the john at Sardi’s.”