“The Marquis of Skokie,” said Gina, extending her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
They shook hands and he said, “The honor is mine, young lady.”
“That’s quite the outfit,” said Gina. “Wasn’t St. Patrick’s Day two months ago?”
“I’ll be singing to one of the residents,” he said. “They assure me she’s very Irish.” In a confidential voice he added, “I don’t think most of the seniors living here have any idea what month it is anyway. They’re just glad to hear ‘Danny Boy.’”
“Before the pipes start calling you,” she said, “I’m hoping we can talk for a minute. My name is Gina Romano, and I’m with the law firm of Bergman-Deketomis. We are representing Robert Diaz in his whistle-blower suit. Here’s my business card.”
Suddenly, Irish eyes were definitely not smiling. Marcus took a step back. “Shit,” he said.
Gina was still holding her business card out to him. With great reluctance, he took it between his thumb and forefinger, apparently afraid of it coming into contact with any other part of his body. “I told Rob I couldn’t be involved in this.”
“I just have a few questions for you, Mr. Marcus.”
“In eleven weeks I retire,” he said. “I have it figured out to the minute. Why do you think I have hung in there for nineteen years and forty-one weeks? My parents said I could never make it as an actor. ‘Get your degree in something practical,’ they told me. ‘Get a real job.’ I studied bookkeeping, and over time got my degree in accounting. But I only felt alive when I was on stage. When I was younger, I performed in all the big theatres in town. I had roles at the Cadillac Palace, the Ford Center, and Goodman Theatre.
“And now I’m wearing a fucking leprechaun outfit. What’s a nice Jewish boy doing something like that? Do you think I don’t know how ridiculous I look? I know. But it’s a job. And I get to sing and act, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say about my day job. So I don’t care that I’m wearing a neon shamrock. I stuck it out at Arbalest to get my benefits. I put in twenty soul-sucking years at the company store. And that’s why I can’t afford to lose my benefits now.”
“Please hear me out, Mr. Marcus. If Arbalest makes a move to try and deny you your pension, or your benefits, I will represent you at no cost in court. And I can assure you if it ever came to that, which I think is highly unlikely, I would do my best to make Arbalest realize the costly error of their ways.”
“I can’t talk to you, lady,” he said.
“You will talk to me,” said Gina. “In fact, in the very near future I will be deposing you. But for now, we don’t need to be tied up in legal formalities. My hope is that you can confirm what Mr. Diaz told us.”
“Just wait eleven more weeks,” he said. “We can talk then.”
“We’ll need to talk before then, but you won’t be alone. I’ll be deposing a number of individuals who work at Arbalest. The story of Sight-Clops and its fatal defects will come out long before you are deposed.”
“I’m just an accountant,” he said. “I’m not on the operations side. I don’t deal with any of our products. My end of things is debits, credits, balance sheets, and profit and loss ledgers; things like that.”
“Robert Diaz told us that shortly after he was fired you called him,” said Gina. “Diaz said you claimed that management already knew that Sight-Clops was prone to malfunctioning in hot and humid conditions. Apparently you and other managers were privy to this information which was circulated in a confidential report.”
“I wasn’t supposed to get that report,” Marcus said. “It came to me by mistake. If I’m lucky, no one even knows I got a copy.”
“But you know better than to trust luck, don’t you, Mr. Marcus? What is that line actors like to say when they’re out of work? ‘If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.’”
Marcus nodded.
“Because of that,” Gina said, “I’m thinking that someone in your position probably made a copy of that report, especially someone who’d worked a job he hated for almost twenty years. Such a report might be looked at as an insurance policy. Am I right?”
She could see from his expression that she was right. Marcus was still looking for wiggle room though. “You’re just speculating,” he said.
“What I’m not speculating about is that you did commiserate with Robert Diaz. And during that conversation you referenced a report. Tomorrow I’ll be meeting with Mr. Diaz, where we’ll certainly be discussing this matter. You should know that because of what you told him, we will be asking Arbalest to provide us with a copy of that confidential memorandum.”
Marcus scratched at his fake, red beard, which threatened to come off. “It’s like what my mother always told me,” he said. “No good deed goes unpunished.”
After thinking about it for a moment he added, “I’ll get you what you need.”
Gina and Bennie arrived at their hotel at a little after seven. Bennie had made sure the two of them had connecting rooms and had asked for those doors to be unlocked. As they started up the elevator to the fifteenth floor, Bennie said, “Are we going out for corned beef and cabbage, or are we eating in?”
“Not even the promise of a pot of gold will get me out of my room tonight,” she said.
“Room service sounds good to me as well,” said Bennie.
Gina wished she could take a nice, long bubble bath, but her cast made that pretty much impossible. However, she thought, there was something else to look forward to.
“Chicago is one of the test markets for the syndication of Bryan’s show,” she said. “He told me it would be airing at eight o’clock tonight.”
“My kids are big fans of his,” said Bennie.
“I’m kind of getting to be a fan myself.”
The two of them got off on the fifteenth floor and walked down the hallway to their rooms. Bennie did a quick review of Gina’s room, and then checked to make sure the door between their rooms was unlocked.
“When you decide what you want to eat,” he said, “give me a call. I’ll put in your room service order so that it gets delivered to my room.”
Gina didn’t want, or feel she needed that kind of special service. “That’s not . . .”
He cut off her protest. “Humor me,” and then he closed the doors between their rooms.
Gina hobbled over to the window. The lights of the Chicago skyline, along with the moon, put a shine to the waters of Lake Michigan. It was beautiful, but she couldn’t completely appreciate the view. She never could when she was working.
Early in her legal career Gina had loved traveling. And she remembered how it had always seemed like a naughty pleasure to be able to order room service. But over the years that thrill had vanished. Solitary dining no longer had the appeal it once did. She looked at the menu selections and debated between a club sandwich and a New York steak sandwich, and after making her choice called Bennie.
“Has madam decided?” asked Bennie.
“I’d like the New York steak sandwich, rare.”
“Madam has chosen well. Do you want the French fries, the sweet potato fries, or the baked potato with accompaniments?”
“I guess I’ll try the sweet potato fries.”
“And what kind of dressing do you want on your salad?”
“Bleu cheese, please,” she said.
“I’ll call it in,” he said.
When Gina heard the knock at the connecting door she shouted, “Come in.”
The Jungles of Florida had just started, and Bennie did his best to quickly deliver the food without interfering with Gina’s viewing. He placed everything on a table and with a French accent said, “Bon appétit.”
Gina called out her thanks as he closed the door. Using her hands, she ate the fries while watching Brian tell the story about Tristan the toco toucan. Tristan had somehow broken off almost five inches of his normally twenty-five-inch upper beak.
“Because a toucan’s beak is so long—it makes u
p almost half of the bird’s surface area—it isn’t as solid as it looks,” said Bryan. “In fact, its beak is made up of mostly air. That might explain how Tristan broke his bill. Still, without our help that broken beak would be a death sentence. Toucans depend on their oversized beaks for such things as cutting through fruit and appealing to the opposite sex. But perhaps the beak’s most important use is for heat regulation. When it’s hot, or when a toucan is expending lots of energy, it will release heat through its beak. Conversely, when the temperature is colder a toucan can block the flow of blood to its beak, retaining the heat in the body.”
Over the course of the show, Tristan’s journey to regain his beak was documented. After Bryan managed to get a mold showing the state of Tristan’s broken beak, two college undergrads used that mold and a 3D printer to create a replacement toucan bill. The only problem with the replacement beak was that its color was too lackluster.
“Let’s face it,” said Bryan, holding up the replacement beak. “What lady toucan is going to want to have anything to do with this dull and uninspiring beak? Luckily for Tristan, Christina has just the solution.”
Christina was a twenty-something modelesque artist. She was certainly as good for ratings as she was for Tristan. There were a number of close-up shots of Christina airbrushing Tristan’s replacement beak. Most of those shots managed to catch Christina’s backside, or a view of her bending forward in her mostly unbuttoned oxford shirt.
After the show’s happy ending—Tristan’s beak was restored to its full splendor and he flew off into the sunset—Gina called Bryan.
When he answered, Gina attempted to imitate Christina’s breathless voice: “Do you think this will work, Dr. Bryan?”
“You saw the show?” he asked.
Gina continued in Christina mode: “Personally, I think Tristan’s beak is popping, Dr. Bryan. There’s no doubt in my mind it will be a chick magnet.”
“I hope she’s right.”
“I need to learn how to bat my eyes like she did. And I must remember the beseeching way in which she said, ‘Dr. Bryan.’ I am sure you found that sexy.”
“You are what I find sexy.”
“Right answer, Dr. Bryan.”
“And when can you carve out some time to see the doctor?” he asked. “I’ll be leaving for Australia later this week.”
What he didn’t say, but was clearly on his mind, was that the two of them hadn’t been intimate since the car crash.
“I’m still getting back on my feet,” Gina said, “and I mean that both figuratively and literally. And I must admit I haven’t exactly felt sexy with my cast and my bruises and scabs. Peter’s moving in doesn’t help either.”
“So come over to my place.”
“I will,” said Gina. “But I’ll need a little more time.”
“Don’t make me wait too long.”
“Is that a threat?” she asked.
“No,” he said, “It was a pitiful admission that I miss spending time with you and being together.”
“I miss that too,” she said.
“Get some beauty sleep,” he said. “I love you.”
“Me too,” she said, and ended their call.
But Gina didn’t sleep. She felt out of sorts. Would Bryan have told Christina to get some beauty sleep? She doubted it.
On her nightstand was a radio, and on impulse Gina turned it on. An announcer said, “You’re listening to WCPT, bringing progressive radio to Chicago.” And then she heard an edgy rendition of the classic song “Ring of Fire,” which apparently was the same name for a talk show being hosted by Sam Seder and Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.
“You hear that Trump plans to shut down the Department of Education?” said Seder. “Yeah, he plans to do that by renaming it Trump University.”
“You’re not going to keep telling those agonizingly bad Trump jokes are you?” asked Kennedy.
“Not me,” said Seder. “But while we’re on the subject, how do you know you’re reading a Donald Trump book?”
“Tell me,” said a cooperative Kennedy.
“It begins and ends with Chapter Eleven.”
Gina clicked off. Normally she would have enjoyed the banter of the two men, but she was still unsettled after talking with Bryan. Gina knew she was to blame for their lack of intimacy, and she also knew that she hadn’t been completely honest with her boyfriend. There was another reason she’d kept him at arm’s distance and was still pushing him away.
It is hard to love a man, when your heart is filled with hate. And it is hard to love when you are consumed by the dark thoughts of planning a murder.
19
REAL LIFE MONSTERS OF THE MIDWAY
“That’s the car,” said Bennie. “It matches with the make and license plate number.” He was comparing the vehicle to the information that had been provided to them by the Bergman-Deketomis investigators.
Kim Knudsen’s baby blue Ford Mustang was parked in her driveway. She and her schoolteacher husband lived in Edison Park, a low crime neighborhood that was home to many Chicago cops.
“Now I’ve just got to get her to open the door,” said Gina.
“You should have brought a copy of The Watchtower,” he said.
“I’ll try my best smile instead,” said Gina. “She’s more likely to open the door to a solitary woman than she is to both of us, so I’m going to need you to stay here.”
“Good luck,” he said.
Gina crossed the street and then hobbled up the walkway to a one-story brick ranch home. She rang the doorbell and waited. Although she couldn’t hear anything from inside the house, Gina was sure she was being scrutinized through the door’s peephole. The door was finally opened by an unsmiling woman, who stayed behind the safety of her screen door while eyeing Gina.
“Ms. Knudsen?”
The woman at the door looked much older than the pictures of Officer Knudsen that Gina had been provided by the Bergman-Deketomis investigators; it was clear just how much her ordeal had aged her.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Gina Romano. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“You’re a bloodsucker?”
“I’m a lawyer with Bergman-Deketomis.”
“Same thing,” the woman said.
“I’m on your side,” said Gina.
“No one is on my side.”
“My firm is going up against Arbalest. We are collecting evidence that will show the Sight-Clops gunsight was defective.”
“I’m not supposed to say anything without my union representative present.”
Gina decided to take her best shot with the limited information she had about Knudsen. “Is that the same union representative who advised you to say nothing during your shooting review and disciplinary hearings? Are you satisfied with the end result of that advice? The Chicago Police Department interpreted your silence as a tacit admission of guilt in the death of your partner Officer Velez.”
The mention of Velez’s name broke apart Knudsen’s mask, revealing for just a moment the extent of her suffering. But then she regained her stolid front.
“I have been specifically advised to say nothing about the death of Officer Velez as that might impact my standing as a CPD officer.”
The door began to close and Gina spoke faster and louder. “We are finding other people like you who have suffered because of Arbalest’s defective product. Plenty of people have been killed and wounded. You are not at fault for Officer Velez’s death.”
“I was the one who shot him.” Her voice was muted by the partially closed door and by the pain that came with her admission.
“We’re going to show that during hot and humid conditions, the Sight-Clops’ targeting was a disaster waiting to happen. And what’s worse, Arbalest apparently knew this.”
“I can’t do this,” Knudsen said. “I can’t open up old wounds.”
“I’d like to hear from you about what happened that night.”
The door be
gan to close again. “Good luck with your case,” said Knudsen.
“I’m going to leave you my card,” said Gina. “Like it or not, you’ll be hearing from me soon, and next time it won’t be only the two of us talking. I intend to depose you.”
The front door shut and Gina heard the sounds of a dead bolt closing. She put one card in the screen and the other under the front door mat that said Welcome.
Gina joined Bennie back in the SUV. “Not a long conversation,” he said.
“I don’t blame her. She’s been through hell. She’s haunted by the death of her partner and her guilt. And she’s been warned not to talk to people like me. She wants to believe she’s innocent. That’s a far cry from feeling not guilty.”
Gina’s cell phone began ringing. She looked at the display. Robert Diaz was calling. “Good morning, Robert.”
“Shit!” yelled Diaz. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Gina could hear road noise over the phone and yelled to be heard. “Robert! Robert!”
“That bastard just played bumper cars with me on the damn freeway! And now he’s riding my ass!”
“Who did that to you?”
“A cop!” yelled Diaz. “He’s in a CPD squad car. I’m pretty sure he’s the same guy who was following me yesterday, but not in a squad car. Today he’s been on my tail for at least the last mile.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the Chicago Loop, closing in on the end of the Ike.”
“The what?”
“The Dwight D. Eisenhower Expressway!” yelled a frantic Diaz. “I’m afraid to get off the Ike onto a side street. I think that’s what this guy wants.”
By that time Gina had brought up a map of Chicago on her phone and was trying to locate Diaz’s location.
“Do not pull over even if he flashes you,” said Gina. “Turn west on the 290. That will keep you on a highway. You want to make sure there are plenty of eyes around you at all times. Stand by, and I’ll give you the address where I want you to go. Does your car have GPS?”
“Yeah, yeah, give me the address!”
Gina tried to remain calm as she focused on her best option.
Law and Vengeance Page 14
