Dead Money

by Grant Mccrea

  We’re on the third bottle already.

  Not that kind.

  I looked at her. Oh dear. She’d read my mind.

  Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, I said.

  Okay. I won’t say it. Let’s just do it.

  Please. I really don’t think that’s a good idea.

  Why not? she asked.

  More reasons than I can count. You got a couple hours?

  Sure.

  I was afraid you’d say that.

  Come on, Ricky. If you’ve been truthful with me …

  You know I have.

  …which I have no reason to doubt, you haven’t done it in years.

  Not for lack of trying.

  Sure. Not for lack of trying. Once in a while. But you can’t keep on like that. There’s a lot of life left on those old bones.

  I was silent.

  Well, isn’t there?

  No comment.

  Getting cagey, are we? Come on, Ricky, it’s written all over your face. You hate it. You want to get out of this thing. You want to live again.

  I thought awhile. She was right, of course. I couldn’t cling to the martyr thing forever.

  I can’t argue with that, I said.

  Well, we agree on that much. So what’s wrong with your best friend taking care of you?

  Precisely that. Because you’re my best friend. Because if we do it, God knows what will happen then. You’re not only my best friend. You’re really my only friend. And what if I lost that? Where would I be?

  Darling. I’ll always be your friend. No matter what. You know that.

  I looked into her eyes. They were sincere, I had to admit. They radiated sincerity. I felt a warmth creep up my body, from my toes, that I hadn’t felt since …well. I’m not sure I’d ever felt it before.

  Okay, I said. I’ll think about it.

  Think about it? These moments come but once, my neurotic friend. Whatever makes you think the offer will stay open while you think? There’s a lineup for these favors, darling, she said, turning to the crowd at the bar.

  Next! she called out.

  Heads turned.

  Jesus, I whispered. Keep it down. This is bloody blackmail.

  Yes it is. And if I were you I’d fork it over pronto. The consequences could be dire.

  I couldn’t really argue with that, either.

  All right, I said. I’ll try.

  Try. I’m not at all sure that will be enough. But I guess I’ll take my chances.

  Your chances? Maybe I’m missing something, but it seems to me that I’m the one taking all the chances here. Jesus, do you understand the enormity of what I’ve just learned?

  Ricky, she said in a soft voice, what in God’s name makes you think that I’m not taking any chances?

  Had I not known her better, I’d have thought that her eyes had tears in them. I felt a fool. Again.

  Oh God, I said. I’m sorry.

  It’s okay. I’m used to it.

  Her smile was warm and giving.

  Let’s go to my place, she said.

  I’d like to. But Kelly.

  Let’s go to your place then.

  But Kelly.

  Don’t worry about Kelly. I’ll take care of her.

  We went to my place. Kelly was out. I called up Francis, told him to send over the Grande Dame 1988. I’d asked him long ago to save it for me. For a special occasion. One that never seemed to come. I pulled out the handblown Riedel glasses that I’d bought in Germany, years ago. Before they’d made the wine press highlights, started mass production. I’d tried the new ones since, the ones they sold all over now, at reasonable prices. They didn’t have the same effect for me.

  Kelly came home. She saw the champagne glasses. She looked at Dorita. Dorita winked. Kelly looked at me.

  She shook her head.

  Okay, she said. I get it. I’ll go to Peter’s.

  And off she went. Without a backward glance.

  My God. What had I done?

  Dorita took me to the bedroom. She took me to my own bedroom. She pressed me up against the wall. She kissed me. Gently, yet with passion. I fell to my knees. I kissed her stomach. She laughed. She pulled me up, and to the bed. She undressed me, slow and gentle. She undressed herself. I watched, transfixed. All these years of coveting. Of sublimation.

  And I wasn’t disappointed. Those breasts I had so long imagined, full and languorous, impossibly imposing on her slim and muscular frame. Her legs, finally revealed from toe to waist, long and strong and graceful. Her stomach smooth and cool as ivory. She laid it all out for me.

  And I was afraid.

  She was utterly desirable and smooth, exquisitely constructed. I knew, I knew beyond certainty, that even had I been a normal man, with normal lusts and fully functioning libido, I’d be in so much awe of her that I’d be utterly unable to function.

  But she took care of that.

  She lay down beside me. I was exposed. She was radiant. She put her head on my shoulder. She asked me to read to her. I chose Dylan Thomas. I read poems of rage and defiance. ‘Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night.’ ‘And Death Shall Have No Dominion.’

  Rage, rage against the dying of the light, I read.

  And it gave me the power.

  And she was gentle, and giving, and warm, in the face of the rage. She stroked me softly, like a whisper in the night. We lay by candlelight.

  Her mouth hovered and touched and rose again to attack with abandon my most sensitive, my grieving places.

  She was a miracle.

  I came alive.

  She devoured me.

  And when it was over, we lay back. We smiled. We touched. We held each other.

  For the first time in memory, all felt right with the world.

  92.

  IN THE MORNING I WAS CONFUSED. Confused and disturbed. But Dorita was there. So I couldn’t call Sheila.

  I had to get out of the house. I had to get Dorita out of the house. Before Kelly came back. Before my head exploded.

  Time for a change of scenery, I said.

  We went to Starbucks.

  Okay, Dorita said once we’d settled down with our coffee. Enough with the sentiment. It’s time to get to business.

  Damn, I said. You always want to ruin my fun.

  It’s my job.

  You and the rest of humanity.

  Heaven doesn’t exist in a vacuum.

  True. You need a little hell. To spice it up.

  So, back to business. Question one: Do we believe him?

  I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been trying not to think about it.

  That’s not the answer. Think.

  I thought.

  If he’s lying, he’s a damn good liar.

  Oscar material.

  Which belies his lack of success in the field.

  True. Very true.

  Let’s proceed on the assumption that he’s legit.

  We can do that. We can also check it.

  You want to go to Podunk?

  Not today. I just meant we can always do that if we have to.

  Sure. We can do that.

  Okay. So, let’s assume he’s foursquare.

  Let’s.

  And the physical evidence bears him out.

  At least it’s not inconsistent.

  Correct. He was in the house. Behind your back, he hugs her. They’re overwhelmed to see each other. He leaves a hair behind. Follicle attached.

  Sure. He was next to her on the couch when I came back from the kitchen.

  Another detail you left out.

  I did?

  You did.

  Sorry. Anyway, it fits.

  We need to look at other suspects then.

  I’m not sure that ‘suspects’ is the right word. But the …

  Semen. You can say it.

  I don’t want to say it. But I guess you can.

  We thought for a while.

  It has to match somebody, I said.
/>   Who?

  That’s the million-dollar question.

  Sixty-four thousand, I think it was.

  Let’s not quibble. Who’s next on the list? The twins?

  That’s the other case, darling.

  Right. Just testing.

  The AA guys.

  A possibility.

  But messy.

  A smorgasbord of suspects.

  And they all seemed so sincere, you said.

  Not in any way conclusive.

  Of course not.

  Let’s remember Occam’s razor.

  The simplest explanation is usually the best.

  Not quite.

  Right. The simplest explanation that explains all the facts is the best.

  Dorita looked steadily into my eyes. She didn’t say a thing.

  It was a challenge.

  I thought. I pondered. In my head I shuffled the index cards.

  One popped out.

  Jesus, I said. You’re right.

  He was the last man she was seen with.

  Other than me.

  You’ve been cleared.

  He’s weird.

  So you’ve said.

  She was in his thrall.

  It appears.

  The last time Kelly and I picked her up from the hospital, two or three months ago?

  You never told me about that.

  When we were leaving?

  Yes?

  He hugged her.

  Well, that’s not necessarily unusual.

  Maybe not. But I remember thinking there was something strange about it.

  Yes?

  I don’t know. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It made me uncomfortable.

  We sat in thought.

  And then there was the day I came home, I said. Her last relapse. And he was on the couch with her. Holding her hand.

  That couch seems to get a lot of action.

  She lived on it. He told me he needed time with her alone.

  Jesus H. Christ.

  That was my reaction, at first. But then, I figured it was just a therapeutic thing. That my reaction was just paranoid. Insecurity. That he was helping her. And I could never help her.

  Damn your neuroses, Ricky.

  And then, when I came back into the living room, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Hmm. You’d think he’d want to talk to you and Kelly for a while, no?

  Sure. Explain the situation. Reassure the family. Though he never was that kind of guy, I have to say. With him it all seemed to be about power.

  Dorita gave me the under-the-eyebrows look.

  Yes, I said. Yes. Damn. It fits.

  It does appear to.

  Jesus, I just remembered something else, too. That night, when he was at my house? When I went up to Kelly in the dining room? One of the first things she said was that Melissa had been asking for him.

  Asking for Steiglitz?

  Steiglitz. Everything fits. Goddamn everything.

  It does appear to.

  Let’s check him out. I’ll do it. Damn. I don’t even have to. I know it was him.

  Whoa, said Dorita. Slow down. Let’s make a plan.

  I don’t need a plan, I said. I know what to do.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  Trust me on this one, I said. Did I single-handedly win the Case of the Red Car Door?

  You did. I have to admit it.

  So trust me.

  93.

  I CALLED STEIGLITZ’S ASSISTANT. The good doctor was at the clinic in Westchester. He’d be free after five.

  What to do til then? I was jumping out of my skin.

  My cell phone rang. Laura.

  I think I know what you’re going to tell me, I said.

  Really?

  Yes. But go ahead.

  It’s really strange, Rick. Which is why I wanted to double-check. But the hair?

  The hair. Yes. I know. It’s a close match to Melissa’s.

  Rick, how in God’s name did you know that?

  I have my ways, Laura. Anyway, thanks for the help. Really. You’ve been great. Gotta go.

  I hung up.

  Distract me, I said to Dorita. Or I’m going to have to do something antisocial.

  Why should today …

  Yeah, yeah. Come on. Distract me.

  We’ve got to break the Jules logjam, she said.

  Jesus, you’re right. Less than a week. Shit.

  We talked it through. Everything we knew. We couldn’t find a weak point to attack. We couldn’t find a pattern that felt right.

  FitzGibbon, I said.

  You said that before.

  You’ve got a better idea?

  No.

  Then let’s go.

  Maybe Dorita could add a frisson to the mix. Unsettle him a bit. Who knew what might come out?

  We took a cab. It smelled of apple cores and filth.

  As it happened, the twins were there. Both of them. Our first dual sighting. Ramon looking tight and edgy. Raul smooth and well tailored.

  They didn’t look a bit alike.

  Pleased to see you, Raul said.

  Sure.

  I considered asking FitzGibbon if we could meet in private. Get him alone. But I thought better of it. It would be interesting to see the interaction of the three. We might learn more by watching than by anything the cagey bastards had to say.

  If there was anything to learn. I still wasn’t convinced that Jules hadn’t chased Larry Silver to the alley. Stove his head in.

  Nice of you to make the time to see us, I said.

  Sure, said FitzGibbon, with a quizzical glance at Dorita.

  My colleague, I said. Dorita Reed.

  FitzGibbon rose and bowed elaborately.

  Have we met before? he asked.

  We have, said Dorita. Good to see you again.

  FitzGibbon nodded uncertainly. Sat down. Ramon scowled. I began wondering if the expression had been tattooed on his face at birth.

  We’re not sure how much progress we’ve made, I said. But there are a few issues we’d like to talk to you about. That might lead somewhere.

  Okay, said FitzGibbon.

  These trusts, I said. I understand that they were set up by your father?

  Yes, he said warily. Ramon leaned forward. Raul lit a long slim cigarette. He looked unconcerned.

  And they were intended for the benefit of your children?

  Ye-e-s, he said, drawing it out.

  The part that speaks to your ‘issue,’ correct?

  That’s right, he said slowly.

  FitzGibbon looked at Raul.

  Ramon’s scowl deepened.

  And you also know that there are conditions that have to be fulfilled before your children get the capital, right?

  FitzGibbon looked confused.

  There are some conditions, interjected Raul.

  I looked at him. He looked as placid and content as always.

  One of which is that they not have been convicted of a felony, correct?

  That’s one of them, yes, said Raul.

  Which is an interesting coincidence, I said.

  Excuse me for a moment, said Raul pleasantly. I’m not sure I understand. How did you get this information? It was my understanding that you couldn’t handle that matter. You had a conflict, or something.

  Oh dear. An inconvenient detail.

  The phone rang. Raul picked up the phone. He listened.

  Yes, he said. I understand.

  I looked around for Ramon. He wasn’t there.

  Raul leaned over and whispered something in FitzGibbon’s ear.

  Then he turned to me.

  Excuse me, Mr. Redman, he said, but something has come up.

  Pardon me? I asked.

  Terribly sorry, he said. We must attend to it right away.

  He nodded toward the door.

  I looked at FitzGibbon for help. He was gazing out the window. I looked back at Raul. He was looking steadily at me.

 
His Look said: Get the hell out of here.

  Well, perhaps we can speak later in the day? I asked.

  Perhaps, said Raul. We’ll let you know.

  Ramon returned. He parked himself in front of FitzGibbon’s desk, arms crossed. Obscuring my view of the Patriarch.

  I looked at Dorita. She looked as frustrated as I felt.

  I couldn’t just leave it at that.

  Listen, I said, I don’t know what’s set you guys off, but I’m just asking a few questions. We’ve learned a few things. Things that may lead to other things. We’re working for you, Mr. FitzGibbon.

  I craned my neck to try to get some eye contact with the Patriarch. Ramon shifted to block my view.

  Our job is to clear Jules, I said to FitzGibbon, trying to project my voice through Ramon’s midsection. Surely you want to help us any way you can?

  I really think it would be better if you left, said Raul.

  Calm and cool.

  I looked at Dorita.

  She shrugged.

  We left. What else were we going to do? Start a fistfight?

  Wouldn’t be prudent.

  Ramon followed us out the door. Into the elevator. He followed us to the lobby. He followed us into the street.

  Dorita and I picked up the pace once we got outside. Ramon fell behind. I looked back. He was going back into the building.

  Well, I said, there goes what little was left of my career.

  And mine.

  Shit.

  FitzGibbon’s probably on the phone to Warwick as we speak.

  Or the Bar Association.

  Or both.

  Damn. We may have gotten Kennedy in trouble too.

  Jesus. You’re right.

  And we didn’t even get to the phone calls.

  Let’s get a drink.

  When we had found a suitable watering hole, we sat down and looked at each other.

  What’s done is done, said Dorita.

  I suppose, I said.

  That was really something.

  If we didn’t know before that there were some guilty consciences around that place.

  We sure do now.

  Looks like the whole bunch of them are in on it.

  In on something. The question is, on what? We still don’t have a sliver of evidence tying any of them to Larry Silver. Other than your esteemed client, of course.

  Our client, I said. In any case, you’ll be tracking down the slivers this afternoon. While I continue the investigation of our friend Dr. Steiglitz.

  Dorita sighed, rolled her eyes.

  I’ll see what I can do, she said. Call me later.

  You can count on me, I said, without conviction.