And now to be forced to witness the breach of trust in yet another family shook him all over again and to the core, as once more he relived the pain and the hurt that he read in Jennifer’s eyes. Eyes that watered but fell not.
“You’re telling me my dad was a mobster, is that right?”
Preston’s mouth turned down, sorrow now evident in his own eyes. “Is that what you think of me?”
She flushed, a combination of shame and anger in Ham’s view. It took a few moments for her to find the words, or perhaps to bar the challenge from her voice. “Of course not,” she stated. “That’s not what I meant. I put it clumsily. Please forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You’ve just been told your father was not the bookkeeper you were led to suppose. Led to believe by me, I might add, and for that lie I ask your forgiveness. Understand that my wish was to protect you from all the hurt, all the harm. Had you known the truth, you most assuredly could have, during those horribly rebellious teen years of yours, appealed to my associates for anything you wanted. And because you are your father’s daughter, nothing would have been denied you.” He spread his hands wide, holding the burden within. “And that, my dear, I would not wish on you, would not allow to befall you.”
He turned his attention to Ham and Drew. “It’s not likely that either of you would be familiar with his history since his death occurred when you were young, probably in your teenage years if I’m reading your ages correctly. Ever hear of Pacem Talbot?”
Neither Ham nor Drew offered an answer, letting their baffled silence tender response. “I thought not,” he nodded.
Ham tried but failed to stifle his curiosity. “What the hell kind of name is Pacem?”
Preston smiled, a lopsided agreement. “My parents were fascinated by various things throughout their lives, including dressing to the hilt and attending opening nights of all the major stage shows that came to town. One of those used a Latin phrase ‘si vis pacem para bellum’, which translates to ‘if you want peace, prepare for war’. Given the family business—and you know what that is, I needn’t belabor that—it tickled my father. My brother, being first born, got the moniker. I, at my mother’s insistence, must be christened with a moniker starting with ‘p’ like my older brother. Being, like I said, fervent film and stage aficionados, they chose ‘Preston’ after Preston Foster, an actor best remembered for his roles in such 1930s and 1940s films as Annie Oakley, Doctor X, My Friend Flicka, and The Informer. He also was part of a popular 1940s and 1950s music trio, which for my parents sealed the deal.” With a wicked grin, he asked, “Does that satisfy your nosiness?”
“It bores mine,” Drew grumbled, earning a smile and a shrug of non-apology from Preston.
“The car crash,” Jennifer pressed.
“Not a car crash, Jennifer. They took your father out. Your mother was collateral damage.”
If Ham had ever witnessed greater horror on a single face he failed to remember it. He doubted, however, a failure of memory, rather a triumph of fact.
Before she could collect herself, to wrap her mind around something that clearly she fought to absorb, Preston sought to soothe her overwrought nerves. “Remember, you were a child. Nothing could be gained by telling you this, not then, not before, not until this very minute.”
His statement appeared to pull Jennifer back from the abyss for, instead of stuttering accusations or thundering resentment, she narrowed accusatory eyes, the better to glower directly at her godfather. “Why, then, are you telling me all this now?” she demanded.
“Because I need you to understand, on a very personal level, how dangerous these people are and can be. To you, to Derek, to me even, should they have a mind to do so.”
“You’re trying to tell her something,” Ham prompted, more for Jennifer’s benefit than otherwise. “Get on with it. She needs to know.”
Preston regarded him with something akin to respect, though Ham wondered at the thought, wondered if he read something not quite there. Until Talbot nodded, unsmiling but friendly in a way. “He’s correct, Jennifer. Your father got in the middle of a power struggle. When that happens, people die. It is my belief that there is one percolating even now, in our own group, and that this is the reason for the hit on Liam.” Turning to Drew, he added, “We think your husband was a foil.”
“Oh, mother of god,” Drew whispered.
“What does that mean, a foil?” Jennifer inquired.
“It means,” Drew explained, “that they hit him deliberately. He’s famous, they made an instantaneous decision to exploit the fact that he happened on the scene, they used it to deflect from the organization, to make it questionable that it’s a hit ordered from inside. Because a world famous rock and roll legend would leave Waterson out of the media glare. And if the legend dies, so freaking what. Not their problem,” she spat bitterly before adding, “or at least that’s what they thought. But they were so far wrong they’ll never see the right side of correct. I’m going to very much make it their problem. I’m going to make me their problem.”
“I’m not defending anybody,” Preston announced, “but I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that had they wanted your husband dead he wouldn’t be breathing at this very moment.” He shrugged apology. “Ugly, I know, but a fact nonetheless.”
“That makes less than no damn difference to me,” Drew snapped. “And it makes even less damn difference in how they pay.”
Before more threats could be bandied, Ham jumped in, forced it back to the business at hand. “Two things you need to clear up. One, you said Larry Pendleton is the shooter. I want to know how you determined this. And two, how is that a power grab, and by whom? By Pendleton? That makes no sense.”
“Larry Pendleton works for us.” If he noted the disgust on Ham and Drew’s faces he ignored it. “He has for years. He’s not a big asset, nothing like that, but he does provide us with information from the inside. Investigations, like that.”
“That makes him the shooter?” Drew laughed. “Wow, you need to hire some boys to give you a hand with intelligence analysis. Or did Pendleton give you this as inside information from Reno PD?” She didn’t say ‘idiot’, though Ham clearly heard it as it echoed within his mind.
“Remember that you gave me a copy of the security feed, Ms. Thornton. And remember I said I’d have it analyzed myself. We did. We saw. We accused.”
Ham got it, a smack between the eyes, eyes that finally opened wide enough to see the light. “He got paid for the hit. Big bucks,” he guessed. “And his plan was to set up Derek, or maybe his boss, Barton Bianchi, to take the fall. He further planned to hold Jesse as a means of blackmailing him into being his spy, his inside source to tell him everything you, Drew and I are thinking.”
“I’ll be damned,” Drew snarled. “I will be damned to hell and back, twice today and four times Thursday.”
“Then he somehow discovered you outed him,” Ham finished for her, a slight grin emerging, one he covered with a hand that pretended to rub his chin. “And fled.”
“And fled,” Preston confirmed. “However, what he does not know is that we are aware of most of his habits, and most if not all of his haunts. Unfortunately for him, that includes Liam’s wife, Nicole, formerly Nicole Vicante.”
“Of the Vicante family, I’m guessing.”
“Yes, Mr. McCalister, exactly that. Of the Vicante family.”
Drew shook her head in disgust. “So she’s connected in her own right. She doesn’t need Liam and his money. Is there any love lost there? Any love at all?”
“I intend to ask her that very question, Ms. Thornton, and quite soon. She’s on her way back from Tokyo. Under escort, both for her protection and for mine.”
“What about the Vicante family?” Ham queried. “Do you have a problem with them, any overlap or competition that’s heating up?”
“That’s a very good question. The answer is ‘no’.”
Jennifer, who had listened but said nothing, an obvi
ous air of confusion engulfing her, broke her silence with a seemingly irrelevant comment. “I know Nicole well, have for years,” she explained to Ham and Drew. To Preston, she asked, “But why is that a good question? I mean, if the answer is unmistakably ‘no way’.”
“Were we in competition with Vicante, they might think they have something to gain by eliminating their chief rival. It’s happened before, and more than a couple of times. Just not lately. This isn’t like the old days. Nobody guns somebody down on the street over a business dispute. And I don’t accuse them of that. Number one, I don’t view them as so brutal. On the contrary, I think they’d offer us a conference to strike a compromise we both could live with rather than take out the head of our business. And two, they know we’d come back at them. So you have to ask yourself, why would they start a war over nothing in particular? With zero to gain and everything to lose?” To his goddaughter, he added, “But that is a question, a first and beginning question, that must be asked before we can move on to more likely scenarios.”
“Have you talked with anybody with the Vicante family?”
“Yes, Ms. Thornton, I have. Remembering that Liam’s wife is a Vicante, they were concerned enough to reach out to me shortly after the news broke and to offer their assistance in any way we felt appropriate.”
“All this is interesting, but it does nothing to help me find my husband,” Jennifer complained. “And, Preston, as for Pendleton or anybody else who does or does not work for you, I don’t give a damn. If you’re not here to help me find Derek, why are you here?”
Talbot shrugged his shoulders, a casual show of indifference. “I told you, my dear, to protect you. I also promised you that we will find your husband. And we will.”
“Alive?”
He sighed deeply, an answer of sorts in and of itself. “I cannot promise that. I can only hope that. We’ll know soon. Be patient.”
“I can’t be patient, goddammit. And goddam you. You tell me. Could you be patient if it were you?”
Drew put an arm around Jennifer’s shoulders, a tender caress of reassurance. “I can appreciate exactly your pain and how you feel.” She paused a moment to, Ham guessed, let Jennifer shake off enough angst to listen, to feel, to appreciate and share. “My husband has been shot and suffered a heart attack, all in one very long day, a day that began with him not yet my husband. And all I can do is be patient. As must you.”
“But you, you’re going after the shooter,” Jennifer reminded her. “See, that’s action, that’s not patience. All I’m asking for is the same. Don’t moralize me. Give me action.”
In answer to her plea, Ham’s cell exploded to life. He checked the caller ID and announced Gary on the line. He set the phone on speaker and answered, “Yeah, Gary, what do you have?”
“I have our client out on bail is what I have. There’s a twenty-four hour magistrate so it was pretty straight forward. But it’s more than that. I’ll have these bogus charges dropped by noon tomorrow, bet on it.” Gary snorted with contempt. “I can’t believe these assholes even filed the paperwork on the word of a rogue cop that they themselves are investigating. I’m thinking of filing a wrongful arrest suit and getting the city of Reno to set Jesse up for a life of privilege, all at their expense. If for no other reason than just for the fun of it.”
“How did Captain Hanson take that?” Ham asked, amusement evident in his voice. “Did he agree it would be fun?”
“Well, that’s the curious thing. He didn’t blink so much as an eye, just nodded and ambled on his way. He’s got something I don’t have yet. But I will.”
“He’s got an in, a hedge to his bet,” Preston blurted. “Pardon me for interrupting, Mr. Larsen. Though we’ve never met, I know of you. You’re a well-respected man in this state. You may be interested to learn that we have you on our list of council of choice for criminal matters should they arise.”
“And you are?”
“Preston Talbot, Mr. Larsen. At your service.”
The long pause convinced Ham that Gary had just received quite the shock. Seldom did he lose his power of speech like that. “Gary, you there?”
“I’m here, Ham. Mr. Talbot, what can you tell me about Captain Hanson? You seem to have a lot on him, based on your words.”
“Hanson is well known and well liked in my circles. He has protection and therefore nothing to fear from you in that regard.”
“I see. Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Only if you think it means that we have some judges who are friendly to us and who would lend us favors in their court.”
Gary chuckled, a soft tinkle before replying. “Okay, so I’m not to be shot at dawn. What else can you tell me? Anything that can help my client?”
“I am a client of your client, Mr. Larsen. Have been for some twenty years. I expect I will continue to be for twenty-some more.”
“Whoa, wait a minute,” Ham interjected before Gary had the opportunity to continue. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. What does this mean, you’re his client? If he’s in your circle, why didn’t he use your clout when he got busted way back when back in Vegas? Why leave it to chance—why leave it to me—to clear his name? You could have snapped your fingers and put the thing to rest before it even got to charges.”
“He would have lost his value to me. The fact is, he’s an investigator for us, for our interests. Let me make clear, that fact is known only to us and now to you. It is to stay that way. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Larsen? Mr. McCalister? Ms. Thornton?”
Ham offered a shrug, Drew a nod and Gary agreement. “Got it. Is that what you’re paying me for?”
Preston sniggered, a soft tinkling merriment. “So now you’re my client, as well? Agreed. I’m familiar with attorney-client privilege. So be it.”
“I’m not inexpensive,” Gary pointed out.
“So I’ve heard. Charge what you think is fair. If we disagree, we’ll let you know.”
Ham understood vague threats when he heard them. And this one he heard loud and clear, a church bell clanging throughout the village square. If Gary hadn’t got it, hadn’t heard, he’d wise him up later. No use poking a stick at the rattler shaking its tail.
His next words indicated Gary had picked that up for himself. “It’ll be my normal fee, Mr. Talbot, that and no more. Well, normal except for Ham and Drew, of course,” he sighed. “Greedy jackasses, that’s what they are.”
“Save it, Gary,” Drew responded. “No raise. Not now, not ever. Call it a friendship thing, or the cost thereof.”
“Some friends,” Gary huffed. “Anyway, money aside, which by the way I never consider an aside, do you want me to take Captain Hanson to task? Or do you want me to play nice?”
“Play nice,” Preston ordered. “He’s not one of mine, but he’s always treated me well, and with respect. Respect it is my honor to return. That includes suing his department. I would not like to see such happen.”
“Now that I understand the situation, and now that I assume Jesse Spencer doesn’t need the city’s money, I will be happy to adhere to your wishes. Assuming Mr. Spencer agrees, of course. He is, after all, also a client.” Gary paused a moment and eventually expelled a large gush of breath. “Now that I say all this out loud I’m thinking I may have a conflict of interest here if you, Mr. Talbot, are my client. And he’s my client. And he’s your client. And, oh hell, I’m confused.”
“Nothing to worry about, Mr. Larsen. My interests align with Mr. Spencer’s, unless and until Mr. McCalister and Ms. Thornton discover he is complicit in Liam’s murder. In which case, I assure you that I will resign as your client, pay you off in full and handle all matters myself. But,” he emphasized, “I do not expect that to be the case.”
“Where is Jesse now?” Ham inquired. “You said he made bail?”
“He did indeed and he is on his way to you as we speak.”
“Oh, this should be interesting,” Drew mumbled. “Does he know that Preston Talbot is here?”
<
br /> As Talbot nodded, Gary spoke up. “Your friend seems to know a lot. Like where you are. I didn’t tell him. Hell, I couldn’t, I didn’t know. I mean screw it, nobody tells me a goddam thing. I’m only the mouthpiece.”
“Calm, Mr. Larsen. That’s the key to these circumstances, and to all of life. Mr. Spencer knows because I told him where I’d be and why. That he chose not to tell you is a tribute to his character and a mark of his judiciousness.”
“More to the point,” Ham said, “is he aware that Drew and I are here?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Preston replied. “That, I trust, will come as some surprise, and maybe not a pleasant one at that. But we shall handle that when it confronts us. It’s useless to worry it now.”
“He wouldn’t go off the page with you, would he? Like Pendleton.”
“No, Ms. Thornton, I expect not. I do expect he may find himself unpleasantly surprised to have his employment outed, especially since he has chosen not to divulge it, not even,” nodding to Ham, “to the officer he felt indebted to for the earlier assistance with his legal problems.”
Preston had barely finished his statement when his cell buzzed and, simultaneously, a soft knock sounded from the front door. He answered the phone, muttered a quick, “hang on a second” and motioned toward the entry. “Let him in, Jennifer, assuming it is him. If it’s anybody else find out who they are and tell them to wait.”
Jennifer scurried to her task and Talbot curtly nodded. “This will be about our missing Mr. Derek Fister or the even more elusive Mr. Larry Pendleton, who, by the way, has much explaining to do.” Into the phone, he ordered, “Go ahead, what have we got?”
The Biggest Little Crime In The World (A Ham McCalister Mystery Book 3) Page 18
