“Were you looking for anything in particular? We don’t do SM or anything creepy, but we have a number of positions you might be interested in.”
“Something very particular, as a matter of fact. You see I have a bet with this friend of mine about someone named Katrina Starr Thompson. He bet me a thousand dollars that I couldn’t find anyone who could tell me what she was up to in Houston eight-to-ten years ago.”
“Are you sure he only bet you a thousand?”
“Now that you mention it, he may have said two thousand.”
“And how much of this two thousand would you be willing to spend to get the information you need to win your bet?”
“Well, Molly, this might sound strange, but I think I’d spend the whole two thousand just for bragging rights with him.”
“That’s all you want for your two-thousand dollars? The low-down on a minor-league scam that went down eight-plus years ago? Because that is the flat-out weirdest kink I’ve run across in seventeen years as an entrepreneur.”
“You know what they say, Molly. It takes all kinds.”
“Where can I reach you tomorrow?”
“My flight gets in from Reagan National around twelve-thirty local time, so I should reach the Embassy Suites—Galleria by one-fifteen or so.”
“Got it. Have a safe flight.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
I was tying my shoes when I heard Chaladian’s voice. Down on one knee about thirty feet past the security area at Reagan National, knotting my size twelve Nikes, when the four words registered.
“I have a plan.”
I stood back up. I’d emptied my pants pockets into my windbreaker to clear security efficiently. Now I started reversing the process.
“A million-dollar plan or a quarter-million-dollar plan?”
“A million if it works, nothing if it doesn’t.”
“You have my undivided attention.”
I resisted an urge to walk toward my gate. I didn’t want to tip him that I was headed to Houston.
“The prosecution has a problem with a key exhibit. Big problem.”
“And Trowbridge’s lawyers don’t know about it?”
“Not even the prosecutor knows about it. No one knows about it except me.”
“So the plan is to hope they don’t find out and then ambush them in court?”
“No. The plan is to make sure the prosecutor finds out about this problem. Because then she will try to fix it. And when she does, she will catch her tit in a wringer and get the case against Trowbridge thrown out.”
“That’s brilliant.”
“No, that is average. But for me, brilliant is average.” He grinned. “You see the problem, of course.”
“You can’t tell me what this mysterious evidence issue is because you don’t trust me—and why the hell should you?—and as soon as I know it we don’t need you anymore.”
“This is true. But if I don’t tell you, and Trowbridge is acquitted, then how do you know I wasn’t just blowing smoke up your ass?”
“Right. After all, it could be just a coincidence.”
“I have thought about this.” Chaladian glanced up and down the concourse, then turned his onyx hustler’s eyes back to me. “Here is my idea. I write the evidence issue down and put it in a sealed envelope. We give this envelope to someone who will hold it until the trial is over. After the case against Trowbridge goes away, we open the envelope.”
“Sounds foolproof.”
“You give this person a million dollars. If the reason for dismissal matches what I wrote, the money goes to me. Otherwise, it goes back to you. No-brainer.”
“I’ll bump it up the line and see if I can get to yes.”
“Very good. This is all I ask.”
“Later.” I nodded—meaning Go away now.
“One more item.”
“Shoot.”
“I believe in free markets. No one has to do business with me if they don’t want to. Another thing I believe in, though, is not getting fucked with.”
“Got it.”
“You don’t want to deal with me, you say, ‘No thanks, Chaladian, go to hell.’ No hard feelings. But you do not string me along and play games with me.”
“We are communicating.”
His face split into a wide grin. He slapped me on the right shoulder, which was the one Plankinton hadn’t kicked.
“Excellent. No misunderstandings then.”
“Right.”
He turned away, then looked back over his shoulder at me.
“By the way, I may need a lawyer here in Virginia. Do you know any?”
He laughed and sauntered off.
Chapter Twenty-nine
I hit the highlights of the Chaladian chat in a message I left for Proxy before boarding my plane. I heard back from her in Houston, while I was trudging toward where signs promised GROUND TRANSPORTATION.
“Your message didn’t sound like you think this is a risk-free proposition.”
“I don’t. What’s that noise? Are you calling me from a wind-tunnel?”
“Helicopter. I got off one of Trans/Oxana’s planes ten minutes ago, in a place where taxis are scarce. What’s the risk you see?”
“Either Chaladian is going to fiddle with the documentation of the Trowbridge breathalyzer test, which would make us criminals; or he’s going to pull a switch with the guy holding the money and walk off with our cash while Trowbridge heads for the hoosegow—which would make us patsies.”
“All right. I’ll pass that on to Quindel.”
“Fair enough.” I stepped onto an escalator going down. “Gotta find a cab.”
Actually, I didn’t. The first thing I saw at the bottom of the escalator was a matronly blonde in black chauffeur’s livery. She held a piece of white cardboard with DAVIDOVICH scrawled in black felt tip across it. I caught her eye and pointed an index finger at my chest. She nodded.
“Molly sent me. This way.”
Ten minutes later I was in the back seat of a black Chrysler Imperial, zipping along a freeway past bank signs that flashed the up-to-the-second population of Houston. I don’t think I heard three words from her during the thirty-minute drive until I offered her a tip as we approached the sweeping drive in front of the hotel.
“All taken care of.” She waved her left hand dismissively.
I blinked at that. This is the kind of treatment you get in Vegas if they think you’re going to want fifty thousand in chips for starters
Checked in and started for the elevators. On the way I noticed a great pair of primly-crossed legs whose owner’s face hid behind a Wall Street Journal. I was getting a little sixth sense tingle about them for some reason. Molly? Maybe. Before I could speculate further, though, I noticed the chauffeur coming into the hotel through the front door. She headed for the same elevator bank I was aiming for, and she wasn’t being shy about it. We got there in a dead heat. Sensing someone behind us, I moved to the call buttons and punched UP. Then I glanced at the chauffeur.
“Did you decide to go for the tip after all?”
“I’m Molly.” She nodded toward just beyond my left bicep. “Who’s your friend?”
I looked over my shoulder. Proxy. I should have remembered those legs, even without the face that went with them. She now had her Wall Street Journal folded under her left arm. She blushed like an honor student caught sneaking a Marlboro on her way home from choir practice.
“Davidovich, I’m really sorry about this. It wasn’t my idea.”
“Molly,” I said, “this is Proxy. Proxy, this is Molly.”
The elevator came. We all got on. The two women exchanged last names. Molly gave hers as Engeleiter.
“So, Ms. Engeleiter, you’re the uh—”
“Entrepreneur. Call me Molly. And you’d be the…what, exactly? Not wife, I’m guessing. Chaperone?”
“Babysitter,” I said.
“Now don’t get snarky on me, Davidovich. I got you the advance, didn’t I?”
“Yes you did.” And some stiff in Hartford spent twice that much flying her down here on a company plane and then bringing her downtown by helicopter to make sure I didn’t blow the whole wad on a gin-soaked orgy.
“I sure didn’t want to spend my day this way. They just—”
“Skip it. Not your fault.”
Give Proxy credit. Room 803 was definitely a smoking room, but she didn’t gasp or even wrinkle her nose when we walked in. In no time at all she’d gotten a whiskey-over-ice and brought it to Engeleiter, who lit a Virginia Slim to keep it company. Proxy contented herself with tonic water, and at one-thirty in the afternoon I did the same thing. Engeleiter settled into the chair she’d grabbed and gave me a hey-you look. I nodded to show I was listening.
“I met you at the airport because I wanted to size you up. The judge told me he wasn’t all that sure about you. He thought you were probably on the level, but he warned me to check you out.”
“I hope I passed.”
“If you were a Vegas punk or an East Coast thug I would have had you made before you’d finished your escalator ride. You aren’t. Plus, you look a lot like your picture on the Trans/ Oxana website.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“The second thing you need to know is that digging up that information you wanted was a lot of goddamn work. I’ve been involved in top-tier hookups in Houston since my hair was naturally blond, but this isn’t Guys and Dolls. I don’t just absorb dope about sexy scams by cruising down Broadway. So when you give me that two grand—and you will give it to me, by the way—I’m going to feel like I’ve earned every penny.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You do have the money, right?”
I pulled the folded sheaf of hundreds out of my shirt pocket and held it up where she could see it.
“Okay. One last thing.” She took a long pull on the cigarette and held the pose, with her green eyes locked on my baby blues. “The judge asked me to call you because he remembers Thompson. He said she had a lot of spunk and ‘an acre of Texas in her,’ which is the best thing he can say about anybody. He figures she’s in a tight spot and hopes you’re on her side.”
“She is and I am.”
“I pray you are. Because if you’re not, you’d be best advised not to let the sun set on you in Harris County, Texas. If you get crosswise of Trinity Sam you will be one hurtin’ yankee—and no one in Harris County, Texas will give a damn.”
“I’m duly warned. It’s easy for me to understand how someone could have a soft spot for Katrina Thompson. That’s why I came all the way to Houston to hear a two-thousand dollar story. But I need to hear the story—and I need to believe it.”
“You’ll believe it all right.” She stood up and drained her drink. “You’re going to hear it first hand from a girl who knows it by heart. I think I can get her here by seven o’clock tonight.”
“Seven it is.” I glanced at my watch. “That’ll give Proxy time to check my expense reports.”
Before heading for the door Engeleiter pulled a card out of her left jacket pocket and handed it to me. It said RIDING WITH MOLLY, with a phone number underneath.
“That’s in case you get bored between now and seven. Not comp, though. It would be on a professional basis.”
The door took about five seconds to close all the way after she stepped into the hallway. That was long enough for Proxy and me to hear an exchange between Molly and what I guessed was a bellboy.
“There’s no smoking outside the room, ma’am.”
“Shove it up your ass, Roy.”
That raised Proxy’s eyebrows a good quarter-inch.
“Apparently not her first time at the hotel.” She pulled out her laptop and set it on the worktable. “Look, I brought plenty of stuff to do. You can put the tube on if you want to kill some time. It won’t bother me.”
“That’s okay. I’m not in the mood for ESPN right now.”
“Are you just sulking about them sending me down here, or is something really bothering you?”
And just like that, without giving it any thought at all, I told her about Chaladian threatening Rachel.
Chapter Thirty
“Trina was my mama.” The woman who said this had a chocolate brown face that looked twenty-nine and chocolate brown eyes that looked thirteen. “My inside mama, I mean. When I was in the jail.”
“You’d better tell them what an ‘inside mama’ is, Ladasha.” Engeleiter spoke these words slowly, almost soothingly. “They might get the wrong idea.”
“Okay.” Ladasha shook orange and purple bangs that matched a tattoo on the inside of her right thigh, peeking from under the hem of very short white shorts. “Like, my first week inside, see, I was like this close to just losin’ my shit all the time. I figure I gotta show a lotta attitude and use my mouth.”
“Ouch.” Engeleiter covered her eyes with her right hand.
“So, like, my third day, okay? I’m workin’ the lunch line. And this one bitch be pickin’ through this cheap-ass shit they be feedin’ us, like mosta them weren’t good enough for her. An’ so I say somethin’ like, don’t just stand there, bitch, pick one and move your fat ass down the line.”
“That’s using the mouth, all right.” Engeleiter shook her head.
“And this bitch just stares at me. She don’t say a word! Just give me this look. An’ I got no idea what to do! I be scared totally shitless. Even if I coulda thought of somethin’, I couldna got the words out. Then Trina saves my butt.”
“What did she do?” I asked.
“She be workin’ in back, okay? Breakin’ down boxes and keepin’ the shit straight on the shelves. And ‘tween her an’ me there’s just this long metal storage cabinet comes up to our waist. So she leans over and says, ‘Ladasha, honey, can you give me a hand with somethin’?’ So you best believe I hustle my black butt back there ’bout as fast as ever I could.”
“I’ll bet.” Engeleiter offered a cigarette to Ladasha, who took it and leaned over for a light almost mechanically, as if she didn’t realize she was doing it.
“So I get back there, an’ Trina just hand me a box to break down. She don’t be getting’ in my face or anything. She just start talkin’ to me, like talkin’ ’bout what be on MTV last night, you know?”
“Sure.” I gave her the best encouraging smile I had.
“And she say, ‘Ladasha, now, you’re new here, you know? That lady you’re runnin’ your mouth at, she’s been here six months an’ knows the score. So you don’t wanna be dissin’ people like her, or they gonna haul your butt into a storage room an’ smack some act-right into you.’ So I don’t say nothin’. An’ Trina, she wait ’til I get the box she give me busted down. Then she say, ‘Now, Ladasha, I’m gonna walk out there with you, an’ I would surely like to hear you tell that lady you’re sorry ’bout what you said and you didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Would you do that for me?’”
“And—” Engeleiter prompted.
“Well I done it. I hated it, but I done it. So after that, she was my mama. She just let me know the way things was, you know? I be a little worried at first, you know? ’Cause I thought maybe she want me to be her wife, you know? An’ lie with her an’ shit. An’ I don’t hold with that shit. That be against my religion. But she never done nothin’ like that. Just kinda looked out for me, an’ had some good talks with me. Some good, long talks.”
“Did what Trina was doing before she went to jail come up in these talks?”
“Oh yes it did. It surely did.”
My gut tingled. I was just a
bout to get what I’d come to Houston for. I was starting to lean forward when two sharp raps sounded on the door. Proxy jumped up to get it, stepping over a white envelope on the floor that I hadn’t noticed before. She looked through the peephole. When she reached for the doorknob, I assumed she was going to tell whoever it was to go away. Instead she opened it all the way.
Rachel walked in. BOING! She had her blond hair pulled back hard and then wrapped around the crown of her scalp in rope braids so tight you could have used them in bondage porn. She wore a black dress and a pair of black high heels. She did a classic Rachel take: a nice, slow look around the room. Proxy, Ladasha, Engeleiter, and me.
“So. Should I take a number?”
Chapter Thirty-one
“You’ve got ‘wife’ written all over you, honey.” Levering herself from her chair, Engeleiter strode toward Rachel. “And you look like you could use a cigarette.”
Rachel stretched twitchy fingers toward Engeleiter’s Virginia Slims.
“You are absolutely right.” She bent forward to accept a light and then straightened and sort of spat smoke over her left shoulder. I knew she was getting ready for a riff that I’ve heard a dozen times. “Cigarettes and I have flirted with each other since high school, but we’ve never gone steady. An occasional weekend fling, a quickie now and then over the lunch hour—but no commitments. Tonight the occasion demands smoking.”
Ladasha glanced over at me with widened eyes.
“She talk funny.”
Hard to argue with that, so I didn’t. Instead I looked at Rachel.
“What are you doing here?”
“You said I couldn’t see you this weekend unless I came to Houston. So I came to Houston. I actually beat you here. I got a flight out of Dulles first thing this morning. I had to fast-talk the name of your hotel out of Proxy’s assistant.”
“Please tell me she didn’t give up the room number as well,” Proxy said.
“No. I sent a FAX to Jay from the business center here and then followed the bellboy when he brought it up.”
Jail Coach Page 14
