She couldn’t confront Perl—the cops had confiscated her gun—but she might be able to do some reconnaissance. Tail him or his goons. Make sure they weren’t closing in on Ricki Feldman. She told herself she should warn Ricki, too. She also wanted to check on Lauren.
She knocked on Pete’s door, hoping to catch him before work. He was there. She convinced him to lend her his Acura.
After a quick shower, she raced up 41 to Lake Bluff, a well-heeled village adjacent to Lake Forest on the tip of the North Shore. She wound through the village to a street that ended a few feet from Lake Michigan. Overlooking the water was a huge estate that looked like an Italian villa, with carved stone work, Roman arches and gargoyles above.
The driveway in front of the house was empty. Georgia backed up to the road and parked at the curb. Clear morning sunshine threw an innocent light over everything. She’d staked out the house for about thirty minutes when a dark Chevy turned onto the street behind her. She checked the rear view. At the wheel was a lean man with curly, dark hair. Her heart started to hammer. As he passed her and turned into the driveway, he glanced over, and their eyes met. Her breath sucked out, and she felt like she’d been punched in the gut.
***
Matt was still in the Chevy, his hands on the wheel when she climbed out of her car and went over.
“It was you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hello, Georgia.”
There were the same brown eyes she’d lost herself in. The curly hair she’d run her fingers through. And glasses. She liked it when he wore his glasses. They gentled him, she said. She started to speak, but her throat closed up.
“You look good,” Matt said.
Georgia gazed at him. Then she blinked it away. “You mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing here?”
“I work here.”
“For Perl?”
He nodded slowly. “It’s a long story.”
“The man’s a monster.”
“I know. “
“Walcher is dead.”
He looked shocked. “When?”
“Last night. I shot him.”
A gleam came into his eyes. “So that’s it…”
“What?”
“Perl and Lenny went out about an hour ago. They told me to stay here.”
“Lenny?”
“My—my supervisor.”
“We need to find them. “I think he’s going after…” She pressed her lips together. “… Ricki Feldman.”
“What?”
“It’s my fault. I set her up.” Georgia explained how she’d gone to her office and told her about the fake report. “If she didn’t already know about it, I was hoping, given her father’s history, she’d raise hell with Perl. And if she did know, I figured she’d warn him I knew. Either way, I figured I could use her to flush them out.”
Matt interrupted, a knowing look in his eyes. “It worked.”
“How do you know?”
“She called Perl. I was there.” He paused, putting something together. “Now it makes sense.”
“I should have warned her. I screwed up.”
He shook his head. “You did what you had to.”
“There’s more. I think Harry Perl had Sara Long killed.”
“The girl in the woods?” Matt looked worried. “That was before I signed on.”
“Walcher was screwing her,” Georgia said “She was a hooker. I think she heard something she shouldn’t have.”
Matt’s mouth opened and then shut.
“Where did they go? Do you know?”
When Matt shook his head, she pulled out her cell and punched in a number. “Is Ms. Feldman there yet?” She paused. “And you haven’t heard from her? Okay.” She disconnected. “She’s not at her office. Hasn’t been in all morning.” Georgia’s pulse started to race. “Where does she live?”
“Hold on.” Matt pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Korman, Singer. I need a GPS fix on the SUV.” He paused. “Yeah. Call me back.” He disconnected.
“A GPS locator?” Georgia narrowed her eyes. “What’s that about?”
Matt didn’t answer.
“Who was that?” He still didn’t answer. “You’re working undercover!”
He didn’t answer for a moment. Then, “Yes.”
“For Olson?”
He shook his head. “When I got back from Israel, the U.S. attorney set me up with the Bureau. White collar crime unit.”
“How did that happen?”
“I’ve known Perl was dirty since Ricki and I were together. It grated on me. I came home to deal with it.”
“The avenging angel.” It came out sharp.
A guarded look came into Matt’s eyes. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to make restitution?”
She wondered whether to apologize. “For what?”
His cell trilled. “Yeah? Where? Okay. I’m going there now. I need back up.” He dumped the cell into his shirt pocket. “The SUV is on Barberry Lane in Lake Forest.” He swallowed. “That’s where Ricki lives.”
“Let’s take my car.” She headed toward the Acura, then turned around and caught his arm. “Matt, I don’t have a gun. They took my Sig.”
“I can fix that.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
MATT DUG a Glock 27 out of the trunk of the Chevy. He rummaged around, pulled out a box of .40 caliber bullets, and handed them over. She loaded the clip, chambered a round, then slid into the driver’s seat of Pete’s Acura.
“Where did this come from?”
“Lenny makes sure we’re well stocked.” He got into the passenger seat.
She started the engine and pulled away from the house. “What exactly do you do for Perl?”
“I’m his bodyguard. Among other things.”
“Were you the one who shot through my window and started the fire?”
He cleared his throat. “I shot wide.”
“It was you on Sheridan Road, too. The rear windshield.”
“You have to believe me. I would never have hurt you.”
“Why should I trust you? I could have been killed.”
“You wouldn’t have let me get into the car if you didn’t.”
He was right. She turned south on Green Bay Road.
“Why Perl?” She asked after a pause. “Other men have done worse.”
He hesitated. “I—I think it’s because he claims to be such a devout Jew.”
“Perl?”
“He has all the trappings. Keeps kosher. Goes to shul. Observes the Sabbath, at least, when it’s convenient. But he’s a hypocrite. He recites a barucha out of one side of his mouth and bribes a village official out of the other. And when he doesn’t get what he wants… well…” His voice trailed off.
“Maybe he thinks his piety gives him special dispensation. You know, larceny, pay-offs, and murder in God’s name?”
“You mean like a jihad for Jews?”
“It’s been done before.”
“Harry Perl isn’t spiritual. There’s nothing at his core but greed.” Matt sighed. “And Ricki wanted me to study Talmud with him.”
“You knew him before you left?”
“Ricki wanted to introduce us. She knew I was trying to be more observant, and I guess he was the most observant Jew she knew.” He grunted. “She thought we’d have something in common. But we never met.”
“Why not?”
“I was privy to some deals she and Perl were working on. I got suspicious so I started to do some digging. I didn’t like what I found, but I didn’t have the stomach to do anything about it then.” He looked over. “Ricki and I were wrong from the start. We should never have been together.”
Georgia tried to ignore the lump in her throat. She needed to keep on track. “Did you know about Fred Stewart and the property at the Glen?”
“Not until I got back. But there were other deals. Just as dirty. The Feds know about them.”
“When did you realize I was wor
king the case?”
“I knew you were working the Sara Long murder, but I didn’t know it connected to Perl.”
She tightened her grip on the wheel. “So they wired you?”
“That’s how they cracked Greylord, remember?”
She nodded. They’d studied the scandal at the Academy. Twenty years ago an Assistant State’s Attorney, upset with the operations in Cook County court, which included regular bribes to judges, suddenly became a defense attorney. He insinuated himself with the people who were lining the judges’ pockets. No one knew he was wearing a wire. Over 92 people, including 13 judges, were eventually indicted.
Aloud, she said, “How did you land the job with Perl?”
“We let them think I was on the take and was moving ‘product’ in Israel. Arms, mostly. It worked.”
She was quiet for another long moment. Then she turned to him. “What you’re doing—it’s gutsy, Matt.”
“I don’t look at it that way. It’s just something I need to do.”
“I know.”
His eyes softened. His cell phone rang again. “Yeah?” A pause. “Okay.” He put the cell down. “They’re on the move.”
“Where?”
“They’re heading south on Green Bay. We have a choice. We can follow them. Or we can go to Ricki’s house. Make sure she’s okay.” “Back up’s on the way, right?”
Matt nodded.
“Let them check the house. We should follow the SUV. She could be with them.”
Georgia kept driving. “Where do you think they’re going?
“Depends what they’re planning to do.”
“What does Lenny carry?”
“He has a frigging arsenal. A Remington Bolt action rifle, a few semi-automatics, a couple of revolvers.”
Green Bay jogged east and then south again. “What about Perl?”
“I’ve never seen him handle anything. But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t. He might have one of the revolvers. Or a snub nose.”
His cell phone rang again. He listened, then put it down. “They’re moving east on Tower Road.”
“East?” Georgia scowled. “There’s nothing there. It’s all residential.”
“There must be something.”
“Shit! I know where they’re going.”
“Where?”
“The Lagoons!”
***
The Skokie Lagoons, which are actually located in Winnetka, are a series of marshy ponds just east of 94. Originally built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s, the Lagoons have been restored. Now there’s fishing, boating, bird-watching, and if you happen to be looking west, you might see the sun set over the water, a rare treat for Chicagoans. Surrounded by woods and thick underbrush, the Lagoons offer something else of value: a treasure trove of hiding places.
“They’ve got plenty of choices,” Georgia said. “If they do it right, the body might not turn up ‘til spring.” She gestured to Matt’s cell. “Find out if they turned south on Forestway.”
Matt called his handlers and asked. He listened, then nodded. “We’re there in five,” he said into the phone, then disconnected. “They did.”
Georgia turned south onto Forestway, a street with the Forest Preserve on one side, the Lagoons on the other. The trees, now bereft of leaves, seemed bowed by the brittle air. On the Lagoon side were parking areas, behind which were stretches of grass and dirt, and finally the shoreline. She slowed down.
“We’re looking for a dark Ford Explorer.”
They came around a sharp curve. A parking area appeared on their right. No car. Georgia kept going. She drove around another curve and reached another parking area. A Black SUV was parked at the far end.
“There it is,” Georgia said.
“Keep driving,” Matt said.
She cruised past the car until they were out of sight, then bounced the Acura up on the curb and parked. They got out and jogged back to the SUV.
Georgia felt the hood. Still warm. A pale sun hung in the cold sky, but everything was quiet. No sound of moving water. No birds. No breeze rustling the tree branches. Even the faraway noise of passing cars and trucks on the Expressway was hushed. It was the silence of impending winter. And death.
Matt pointed to the ground. The dirt hadn’t dried out from the rains of the past few days, and she could make out some partial impressions. They looked like striated shoeprints, prints that could have been made by a man wearing rubber-soled shoes. Matt started to follow the tracks. Then he stopped, turned around. He held a finger to his lips and motioned straight ahead.
In front of them was a thicket of cattails, canary grass, and other prairie grasses. Through it she caught a glimpse of nickel-colored water. Georgia closed her eyes to concentrate. Gradually, she became aware of faint sounds: Rustlings. Grunts. Then a higher-pitched sigh.
She opened her eyes and tiptoed forward. Matt tapped on her shoulder, gesturing for her to go one way. He’d go the other.
She nodded and let out a breath. It left a tiny cloud in the air. She waited while he circled around the thicket. Then she started to pick her way through from the other direction, going slowly, trying not to make any noise. A moment later, a twig snapped under her foot. She froze. Nothing. After a long moment, she edged forward again. The underbrush started to thin, and she could hear voices. Low. But urgent.
She stopped and peered straight ahead. Ricki Feldman was lying face up on the ground in a clearing near the water’s edge. She wasn’t moving. Georgia squinted and thought she saw her breathing shallowly. What had they done to her?
The two men were a few feet away, their backs to Georgia, talking in low tones. One of them was dressed in warm-up pants and a fleece vest. Perl. The other, bigger and brawnier, wore canvas pants and a pea jacket. He’d drawn a gun—it looked like a Glock—and kept glancing back at Ricki, as if he expected she might rise, brush herself off, and run away.
Georgia waited for Matt. He had more ground to cover; it would take him longer to get in position. She quietly unsnapped the flap on her holster and drew out the Glock. She stood for what seemed like a long time, willing the goon to keep talking. Finally, she spotted a subtle movement across the clearing. Matt drew his weapon. She knew he expected her to, also. She pointed the Glock at the two men. Suddenly, Matt emerged from the thicket.
“Lenny, drop the gun!”
Lenny whipped around, surprise on his face. “What the fuck?”
Perl spun around too.
“Don’t move, Perl,” Georgia stepped forward from the other side. “I shot Walcher, and I’ll shoot you too!”
Perl froze, mouth open, eyes huge, but Lenny swung around toward Georgia. A slight smile played on his face. He pulled back the slide on his automatic and aimed. She jumped back and sideways. She lost her balance and fell to the ground.
A shot rang out. Then the quiet rushed in again. Georgia rolled onto her stomach and raised her head. A look of surprise had unfolded across Lenny’s face. His body tensed. A hole in his stomach gushed blood. He fell forward onto the ground. His hands still clutched the Glock.
Perl still hadn’t moved. Georgia scrambled up and trained her gun on Perl, but Matt was already on him.
“Are you okay?” He shouted.
“I’m good, Matt.”
“Okay.” He sounded relieved.
Georgia looked at Ricki. She was still breathing shallowly, but her eyes were open and filled with panic. Matt stayed where he was. He kept his gun on Perl.
“Cuff him,” he called to Georgia.
She pulled out the cuffs from her pocket and bent over Perl. Pulling back one arm, then the other, she snapped them in place.
“Thank God you’re here!” Perl suddenly found his voice. “He…” He gestured with his chin at the fallen security guard. “… He went berserk! He took us hostage. He was going to kill us both. He—”
“Save it,” Georgia said.
“You have to believe me. I would never do anything to hurt my partner’s
daughter. He—”
“Shut up, Perl,” she repeated.
Perl’s mouth closed. The distant sound of a siren cut through the air. Georgia glanced back at Ricki. Her skin looked clammy, and Georgia could see sweat on her upper lip. She went to her and dropped down on her knees.
Ricki cringed. What was she anticipating Georgia wondered. A blow? A shot to the head? Or something worse?
“Am I going to die? Please,” she said, her voice weak but desperate. “I don’t want to die.”
Georgia pressed two fingers against Ricki’s carotid. Her pulse was racing. She turned over her hands. Her palms were sweaty, her eyes still panic-stricken.
“What’s happening? Am I dead? Help me, please!”
Georgia studied her nemesis. She thought about what she would want, were she in Ricki’s position. Then she slowly raised her hand—it might have been the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life—and brushed her fingers across Ricki’s brow. “You’re safe now,” she murmured gently. “It’s over. You’re going be okay.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
“IT’S A race to see who gets him first: the Feds or the locals,” Kelly said over breakfast next morning. He’d gone out of his way to drive up to the Lucky Platter in Evanston.
“Has anyone filed charges yet?” Georgia was famished. Between the interviews and debriefings with NORTAF and the Feds, she hadn’t eaten much the past two days. She bit into a strip of bacon. It was perfect: crisp, dry, not too salty.
“Not yet. But there’s a laundry list of ’em coming.”
“Lenny, the security man, did all the hits, right? Including Sara Long?”
Kelly nodded. “Perl’s trying to finger him, claiming it was all his idea. But no one’s buying it.”
She sniffed, taking in the aromas of fresh coffee, fried eggs, and biscuits on her plate. “Why the bat? He was already carrying.”
Kelly shrugged. “Probably one of those opportunities that just presented itself. Someone brought the bat to the hazing. He saw it lying around and figured it might be useful.”
“It got Cam Jordan indicted,” she said quietly. Then, “You know what I keep thinking about?”
“What?”
Easy Innocence Page 30
