Jackie's Week

by M. M. Wilshire

  She put the gun in her purse and called Heinz to her side. It would be the second time she’d petted the noble beast. She ran her fingers through his fur. Heinz responded with what appeared to be friendship. She hoisted her Corona in his honor. "Here’s looking at you, kid."

  Heinz responded with a low growl, one not without warmth.

  Chapter 30

  "Marsha? This is Jackie. Remember me?"

  "Of course," Marsha said. "You’re the beautiful lady who isn’t afraid of a good, stiff, early-morning drink."

  "You make a mean one. I was looped for 2 hours afterward."

  Jackie, stretched out in the limo, hurtling through the curves over Mulholland, and unhampered by the exigencies of driving, was on the phone to Marsha.

  "I heard you had a little trouble last night," Marsha said. "Bienenfeld told me your attacker sent you a message through an associate."

  "Bad news travels fast. But how did he find out? When did he tell you?"

  "Nasturtium told him."

  "He did? I never saw him around."

  Marsha laughed softly. "Don't you want to know what happened to the creep who delivered the message?"

  Jackie was speechless. The guy who left the note on the car had run into Nasturtium? She tried to shake off the thought in order to keep functioning.

  "Jackie? Are you there."

  "Yes," she said thickly.

  "It's better you don't know the details," Marsha said. "But I learned all about it when I picked Bienenfeld up this morning. Ask me when you're ready."

  "You picked Bienenfeld up? How cozy."

  "It wasn’t out of my way," Marsha said. "I live right over the hill from you guys on Los Feliz, near Fern Dell Park. What with you taking the limo, Bienenfeld was without resources."

  "Marsha," Jackie said. "Do you recall when we talked on Tuesday morning, that you mentioned something about helping me with my Viktor Bout situation?"

  "Of course I remember. But we need to have this conversation later. In fact, we’re having a little party tonight. Bienenfeld just financed a deal memo with a new Independent who’s optioned a terrific new screenplay, kind of a Mighty Ducks type thing except it’s about punks on skateboards who go to Haiti and save the children. It could be the next Easy Rider of its generation. We’re having a little get-together for the principals. Charlie Sheen may even show up. He just got out of rehab, so he is looking for something to keep himself busy. Can you come by around 7?"

  "I’ll be there," Jackie said. "Although I’d rather meet Martin Sheen, even though he's only five feet, two inches tall. Can you give me directions?"

  "Have your driver bring you over to the bank building. Give your name to the guard in the lobby and he’ll key you up to the penthouse. If it isn’t too windy, we’ll be out on the roof. Dress for cocktails. There may be a few interesting men, or women, if you’re interested. By the way, I hear you look fabulous with the new haircut."

  "Marsha," Jackie said. "Before we meet tonight, there’s something I need to get off my chest."

  "Yes?" Marsha said.

  "It’s about your thing with Bienenfeld," Jackie said.

  "Donna told you?" Marsha said.

  "She told me," Jackie said. "But I didn’t like what I heard."

  "It’s complicated."

  "The hell. Donna’s my kid sister," Jackie said. "I’ve spent most of my life looking out for her. You nearly drove her to suicide. I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say to make you stop seeing my sister’s husband?"

  "You don’t want to open this can of worms," Marsha said. "There’s a lot you don’t know."

  "It doesn’t bother you that you’re seeing a man who’s married? A man who’s twice your age?"

  "You’ve never seen a rich old man with a young girl in L.A. before?" Marsha said. "Where’ve you been?"

  "You’re young," Jackie said. "But time flies. You’re going to find the best years of your life were wasted, years you’ll never be able to get back. You should be putting all that youthful energy into a proper relationship and leave Bienenfeld and Donna alone, so they can try and rebuild."

  "I’m going to level with you," Marsha said. "In the first place, I am not a complete idiot. This isn’t Hepburn with Harrison working out her father complex. True, Bienenfeld is twice my age, but we have something other couples only dream about. We have the real thing."

  "Oh no," Jackie said. "For a second, you almost had me going there, but now I know you’re way too young. And what about your interest in women?"

  "Hear me out," Marsha said. "I listened to you and now you need to listen to me. In the first place, I didn’t go after Bienenfeld. Bienenfeld came on to me. Do you know why he came to me and we’ve been together the past five years? Because I can give him something his precious Donna can’t."

  "You’re talking about children?"

  "When the time is right," Marsha said. "And it’s obviously something Donna isn’t capable of, or they would have had them by now."

  "I’m starting to so not like you," Jackie said.

  "That’s too bad," Marsha said. "Because I like you. I admire you, in fact. You’ve survived something that would kill a lesser woman. And I still think we should have that drink together. You’d be surprised what your limits are. I could tell the minute I saw you that you are ready to cross over."

  "I promised myself I wouldn’t get into a big confrontation with you," Jackie said. "I was just going to call you and tell you to back off. But here we are, so I’ll only say this once. Stop seeing my sister’s husband."

  "Not possible," Marsha said.

  "What about your uncle Ernie?" Jackie said. "I know he wouldn’t approve of his niece having an affair with the president of his bank. Suppose I tell him?"

  "Uncle Ernie knows everything," Marsha said. "Bienenfeld and I just spent a couple’s weekend with Uncle Ernie on his yacht. And one other thing—"

  "—Hold on," Jackie said. She opened the bar and cracked the seal on a miniature Stoli and took a sip. The booze burned like a tiny sin, but it was a sin she needed at the moment.

  "Okay," Jackie said. "I just had a shot, now say what you’ve got to say."

  "Jackie," Marsha said. "I know you love your sister. But I love her husband and he loves me. It’s complicated. You need to stay out of it."

  "I should warn you," Jackie replied. You shouldn’t get your hopes up. This is L.A. Everything around here is an illusion. It all starts with roses and champagne. But when they roll the credits, you may find out your scene was left on the cutting room floor."

  "Look, let’s drop this and move on. I’ll see you at the party tonight. And I’m still going to help you out with that other matter we spoke about. Especially in light of last night’s threat. We have more information now. It will be easier to handle. I’m going to arrange an audience for you with Uncle Ernie. He’ll be at the party with some of his friends."

  "I’m bringing a friend with me," Jackie said. "Be sure and put his name on the list at the guard station. If you’re serving hors d’oeuvres, I hope you have plenty of meatballs, because he is a big eater."

  "Sounds interesting," Marsha said. "What’s his name?"

  "His name is Heinz," Jackie said. "He’s a big stud. But don’t go getting excited. He’s not your type. He’s a cop."

  Chapter 31

  "Before we leave Mulholland and head down the hill," Jackie said to the driver, "stop by Lake Hollywood. I want to walk the dog."

  The limo followed the feeder road to the Hollywood Reservoir. Jackie opened the door and released the man-hunting beast, which set in motion his time-honored doggy routine of marking his turf along the gravel road leading to the shore. Afternoon shadows began to paint the hills surrounding the reservoir, deepening the mood of the place.

  Jackie checked the handgun. Fully loaded. The silence inside the cabin of the limo was shattered by the cell phone. With a shrug, she opened the line without announcing herself and listened.

  "Jackie?" There was no mistak
ing that voice.

  "Hi, Johnson," she answered.

  "Are you okay?" he said. "You sound a little down."

  "I am. I just had a very depressing conversation with a very young girl. She’s having an affair. You’ll never guess with whom. And she wants to start another affair. With me. By the way, I can’t see you tonight. I’m going to a party at Bienenfeld’s bank."

  "I should go with you," he said.

  "You wouldn’t fit in," she said. "The place is going to be crawling with movie types. There’ll be plenty of security around. I’m taking Heinz. I should be okay."

  "I’m sorry I won’t be seeing you," Johnson said. "Listen, the reason I called is because I’ve got Father Larry here in the office. He wants to talk to you about this whole marriage thing. I’m putting him on."

  "Jackie? This is Father Larry."

  "Hello, Father," she said. "What are you doing in Johnson’s office?"

  "We’re old friends," Father said. "I came right over when he called."

  "I don’t know how much Johnson’s told you, but we need your help patching up our checkered past so we can get married in the Church."

  "Can you come in tomorrow at 8 o’clock in the morning?" he said.

  "Sure thing, Father," Jackie said.

  "We can all meet at Our Lady of Grace on Ventura," he said. "Do you know it?"

  "I do," Jackie said. "For the past six months, I’ve been living at the White Oak Garden Apartments right down the street."

  "Ah," he said. "That’s quite a place. It’s really a small international city within a large international city."

  "Father," Jackie said. "I was just thinking. This is spur of the moment, like everything else in my life lately, but I wonder if you would hear my confession?"

  "Of course," he said. "I can hear it tomorrow morning when we meet."

  "No, Father," she said. "I mean right now, right here on the phone."

  "I’m sorry," he said. "We can’t do it over the phone."

  "We can’t?"

  "We have to meet face-to-face," Father said.

  "Father, this is why I sometimes get so irritated with the Church. This is the new millennium. We have the technology. What difference does it make how we do the confession?"

  "The sacrament requires every priest who hears confessions to be bound to absolute secrecy. Unfortunately, you can’t just tweet a confession on your Ipod. It’s not as though your sins are stored on a microchip or something."

  "Maybe they are," she said. "Oh. Sorry Father."

  "I’ll tell you what," Father said. "I’m headed back to the rectory. Why don’t you meet me there in half an hour?"

  "I can’t," Jackie said. "I’m parked up here by Lake Hollywood. The rush hour commute has Mulholland completely backed up in your direction. It’d take me hours to reach you."

  "May I ask why the urgency?" he said.

  "I don’t want to die before I make a good confession," Jackie said. "How’s that for urgent?"

  "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

  "Ask Johnson, he’ll tell you. A man named Viktor Bout is trying to kill me. I am being hunted down."

  "Are you sure?" he said.

  "This isn’t some deranged fantasy, Father. It's called witness elimination. Viktor Bout is in jail today on account of me. He has his friends coming after me because I represent a very important number to him. The number 3 to be exact. It is also possible that Bout will be out of jail shortly and will come for me personally."

  "Three, as in Three-Strikes?" Father said.

  "You’re a quick study, Father," Jackie said. "That’s why Bout wants me dead. I could send him to prison for 25 years. So I wanted to make my confession. But that’s okay. I’m sitting here in a limousine with a fully stocked mini-bar. If I can’t confess my sins, I may as well have another drink."

  "Why not hide out?"

  "I threw away six months of my life hiding out," Jackie said. "Forgive me, but I’m through hiding. I’ve got severe mental problems. If I went into hiding, I’d wind up killing myself."

  "You say you’re at Lake Hollywood?" Father said.

  "That’s right, Father," she said.

  "May I make a suggestion?" he said.

  Twenty minutes later, Jackie’s amazed eyes followed the chopper from LAPD’s Air Support Division as it touched down in the parking lot by the lake. Father Larry climbed past the ASD pilot and his observer, scurrying clear of the prop wash as the unit lifted off and banked sharply before descending into the thick haze of photochemical smog blanketing the Hollywood basin.

  "Jackie," he said. "I’m Father Larry."

  "You must have a lot of juice with the cops," Jackie said.

  "Not really," Father Larry said. "But Johnson does. It only took him one phone call."

  "So how did you meet Johnson?" she asked.

  "He was my brother’s partner in the good old days," Father said.

  Heinz trotted by the pair, flashing a loose-tongued grin.

  "I see Heinz is enjoying himself," Father said.

  "You know Heinz?" Jackie said.

  "I do," he said.

  "He’s a beautiful animal," Jackie said. "At first I was afraid of him, but we’re closing the gap on being friends. He used to belong to a cop named Visio. Visio was shot and killed."

  "I know," Father Larry said. "Jack Visio was my brother."

  "I’m sorry, Father. I feel like an idiot. I didn’t know."

  "That’s okay, Jackie. My brother was also Johnson’s partner back in the late 1970’s."

  "Johnson lost his partner?

  Father Larry nodded.

  "Father, I have been so absorbed in my own problems, I haven’t noticed that everybody else has their problems, too. Johnson lost a dear friend, and I have offered him no comfort."

  "Johnson has a lot of class," Father Larry said. "Visio and Johnson met in Vietnam and handled dogs over there. When they came back, they joined the force together. They were instrumental in expanding the K-9 program. Because of their efforts, a lot of lives have been saved over the years. It’s the dog’s job to take a bullet, you know."

  Across the lake, Heinz flushed a long-eared rabbit and broke forth in joyful chase into the thorny brush, apparently uninterested in taking a bullet for the moment.

  "At the funeral Mass," Father said, "the Bishop permitted us to break precedent and allowed Heinz to enter the church."

  "He’s on loan to me now," Jackie said. "In the couple of days I’ve known him, I’ve discovered he goes a lot of places other dogs aren’t allowed."

  "I’m glad he’s in good hands," Father Larry said. "But listen, we don’t have much time. The ASD is heading back to their fuel depot over by Union Station. We’ve got about thirty minutes before they return. If you like, we can take a walk and I’ll hear your confession."

  They started slowly alongside the reservoir, its mirrored surface reflecting the roseate, cathedralesque light in a way that suggested one could, if one chose, simply walk out onto the heavenly surface and enter eternity directly.

  "Father, I have a serious question to ask you," Jackie said, "regarding something I’m about to do. But brace yourself, because it’s a doozy."

  "Okay," Father said. He carefully intoned the time honored, ritual words heralding the Church’s welcome to its penitent daughter, inviting her to participate in the mystery of the removal of one’s sins.

  "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Jackie said. "I found a way to have Viktor Bout executed on the street. All I have to do is refuse to do the lineup and the police will have to release him. Once he does, he is going to be killed by someone I know."

  "Go on," Father Larry said.

  "Also, to stack the deck even more, I may have found another way to get rid of Bout, a way which would spare the man I know from having to do it. What if I told you that tonight I’m considering bringing my problem with Viktor Bout to the attention of a certain venerable gentleman of Sicilian ancestry?"

  "My knee-jerk reaction i
s, don’t do it," Father said. "If for no other reason than it’s messy to get involved with the mob. And of course you know the Fifth Commandment forbids direct and intentional killing," Father said. "Except of course in self-defense and time of war."

  "Bout is the one who’s intent on killing," Jackie said. "I’m just defending myself the only way I know how."

  "This is a complex issue," Father said. "But the Church does teach that someone who kills another while defending their own life is not guilty of murder. The gray area here is the fine line between reacting in self-defense and cold-blooded murder. In cases like this, we’re supposed to rely on the duly-appointed authorities to protect us."

  "I can’t wait until I’m attacked again to start defending myself," Jackie said. "The man who’s after me is a smart, aggressive killer. He struck without warning last New Year’s and nearly finished me then. He declared war on me again the other day when one of his associates paid me a visit. I have a chance to enlist the aid of what you might call unduly-appointed authorities—soldiers under a different banner who may take up my cause."

  "I’ll tell you what I think," he said. "I personally believe you should cancel any arrangement you already made to assassinate Bout. And you should not take the situation to the Sicilians. But I also believe this to be one of those issues whose name is Legion. It’s an issue that nobody else wants to touch. Perhaps only the Holy Spirit can really make the call as to whether you’re wrong or right. Due to the urgency of your situation, I’m going to go out on a limb, here, and simply advise you to follow your conscience."

  "Thank you, Father," Jackie said. "I’ll try and pray about it before I talk to the enforcer. Perhaps God will speak to my heart."

  "I’m sure He will," Father said.

  "If it’s okay with you," Jackie said, "I’ll finish the rest of my confession now. I’m a forty-eight year old single woman with a past I’m not proud of. I haven’t been to Holy Communion in what seems like a million years. Actually, I dropped the church right after confirmation."

  She worked her way through the ups and downs of her thoughts and words, of things she’d done and things she’d failed to do, her tears flowing freely as she felt the weight being lifted from her soul, her journey guided expertly by Father Larry’s gentle questions.