by Mike Faricy
“Well, I’d say he probably got a lot more than a handshake.” I thought back to my passionate night and then again this morning.
As Louie shook his head his chins sort of waddled from side to side. “I’d say it’s probably gone, her money. How much we talking?”
“Fifty-grand.”
“That’s a lot, but not by Paris’ standards.” Louie actually sounded surprised. “He’s doing deals for multiple millions. Things like selling shares in some incredible retail development where historic buildings used to stand. Building condos that ruin the view for everyone else. Fifty grand sounds like a lot, but it’s small potatoes in his world, nothing, just chump change to a weasel like him.”
I told Louie about Paris’ house, over by the Witches Hat, how it was listed a category three nuisance, unfit for habitation, even though the taxes were paid until next June.
“There’s an angle there. I don’t know what it is, but there’s an angle. Maybe he can take some sort of tax loss on the property for the next five years if the city demo’s it. Believe me, he’s not the sort of guy to just let that happen. He’s working some sort of scam, you can bet your life on it.”
“You think my client is in any kind of danger?”
“Your client. You mean the one with the lipstick?”
I nodded.
“No. I mean, not physical, if that’s what you’re suggesting. But, I doubt she’ll ever see her fifty-grand again and I’d maybe change all her passwords and double check access to her bank accounts, that sort of thing. Might want to hop on that right away and get it done as soon as possible.”
Chapter Thirteen
I was seated at the far end of the bar in The Spot. I’d been drinking a couple of Mankato beers and I signaled Mike for another refill. I was trying to wash Jimmy White out of my mind.
“You seem to be kind of quiet tonight,” Mike said as he slid my pint back across the bar.
“What can I tell you, Michael? I’m just out there trying to make the world a little better place one good deed at a time.”
He shook his head like he didn’t believe me, and then moved down the bar for some more enlightening conversation.
I took a sip and glanced up at the TV mounted in the corner. The news was on. I looked at my watch to double check. Amazingly it was already ten. God, I’d just stopped in for a little one on the way home, go figure.
The news was leading with a local story, fire fighters battling a blaze in freezing temperatures. An arctic vortex they called it. They were interviewing some poor, frost bitten fire chief with icicles hanging from his helmet. The desolate scene was lit by flashing lights coming from the emergency vehicles that gave the whole place a sort of strobe-like effect. The fire trucks, along with all the equipment and the fire fighters were coated with ice. They were still pouring gallons of water onto the rubble of the smoldering building.
I couldn’t hear what was being said so I returned to my freshly filled pint and thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t out there freezing my ass off. Right around eleven I thought it would be a good idea to drink and dial.
“Give me one for the ditch, Mike,” I said and dialed.
“Hello?”
“Hi Heidi, it’s the answer to all your dreams.”
“Tommy?”
“No, me, Dev.”
“God, have you been drinking?”
“No. I’m…well, okay, maybe a couple. Just wondered if you might be interested in some company?”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes, very. Look, do you need a ride?”
“That sounds fun.”
“No, not that kind of ride, you perv. I meant a ride home. I guess I could pick you up if you need it.”
With a case of beer under my belt a ride home with Heidi lecturing about personal responsibility and my idiotic behavior didn’t seem to be the way I wanted to end the day. “It’s okay, sweetie, I’m good to drive. I’ll take the back way. Thanks,” I said and hung up.
I’d just ordered another beer when someone came up behind me.
“You don’t really need that, Dev.”
I turned to see who it was. “Heidi?” I wasn’t sure at first. Her hair was some sort of recent peroxided blonde thing, almost white. Then she had that little black dot makeup thingy on her face like Marilyn Monroe. Even in my current state, I knew better than to comment on her new hair color. So I figured I would play it safe. “Decide to join me?”
“No. Come on, let’s go. Mike, tell sloppy here, he doesn’t need that beer.”
“She just might be right, Dev. You don’t need to get pulled over on the way home.”
“Yeah, I get it. Okay, I’ll maybe just have a Jameson instead and then…”
“No, Dev. Come on, I’ll give you a lift if you want it, otherwise I’m going back home and you can just take your chances.”
Chapter Fourteen
I woke up facing my bedroom door. It was early enough in the morning to still be dark outside. I couldn’t really remember the ride home, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t been wearing the black bra that was hanging from the bedroom doorknob.
I rolled over and my first thought was I’d picked up someone’s grandmother. Then I hazily remembered Heidi showing up with her new hair color to give me a ride. In the dim light of the bedroom my mind began to gradually replay events until I arrived at my phone call to Heidi. Once again she was a true friend, though I still wasn’t sure about the hair color. I guess it was blonde, but in this light it appeared snow white. I knew I’d be asked and so I began to prepare my response.
I walked up the street while she was in the shower, picked up some of her favorite caramel rolls from the bakery and some orange juice. She was on her second roll and eyeing mine. I pulled my plate across the kitchen counter closer to me.
“Okay, you’ve had time to think about it. So?” she asked.
“I like it,” I lied. “I was the luckiest guy in The Spot last night. God, it was like getting a ride home from Marilyn Monroe,” I said.
She stared at me for a very long moment, looking like I was out of my mind. “Not my hair, you idiot. God, you’re certifiable. No, I mean the conversation we had when I brought you home. The reason I stayed with you last night.”
“You needed a reason?”
She gave me a warning look.
“Okay, Jesus, just joking. Let me ask what you think?” I was at an absolute loss, wondering what in the hell she was talking about and playing for time, hoping she’d say something that would jog my memory.
“Honestly? I think it was really sweet, Dev. In your own sort of Neanderthal way. I just didn’t know you had it in you. Imagine, all those years ago and you still remember that little boy not telling on you. What was his name, Joey?”
Bingo. “Jimmy. Jimmy White. Yeah, we were best buds as kids. He was just a lot more driven than me. Well, and smarter, more academic, nicer, kinder, did I mention better looking?”
She shook her head. “You’re not getting out of this, buster. Admit it, you actually have a heart.”
“Hello. Look, after all I’ve done for you over the years. We’ve been…”
“I know why you’ve done things for me over the years, and it had nothing to do with the heart part of your body.” She forced a laugh.
“Maybe sometimes,” I said, then changed the subject. “Anyway, like I guess I said. I just sort of snapped when this Paris guy gave me the attitude and then there I was, thirty years ago, standing in front of Mr. Graham, the two of us, Jimmy and me. We had our slingshots in our hands, I had the lousy aim and Jimmy didn’t give me up. He took the rap and said he did it. I think his folks grounded him for a week and I sort of stayed away for maybe a month. I never had the backbone to fess up.”
“Oh, Dev,
honey, you were just a little boy. You’d do it now,” she said and gave my arm a squeeze.
“I’d have a lot better aim, now. Anyway, I just had a vision of everything going down the drain and Jimmy was the only guy left standing. Jack-ass Paris probably snuck off unscathed and my pal lost everything, his house, his business and all his money. Guess he felt he didn’t have anything left or no one cared and he just ended it all. I didn’t even know about it until months after. Christ, they found his damn car abandoned in the middle of the High Bridge. Apparently, someone reported he just stopped the car, got out, walked to the rail and jumped.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah, I don’t know if they even found the body. I missed the obit, the wake, the funeral. I’m guessing under the circumstances it would have been a pretty private affair. But I should have been there. I owed him.”
“You may not want to hear this, Dev. But, I think you’re being a little hard on yourself. When was this, two, three years ago?”
“Two-thousand-seven, actually. You know, in the midst of the financial collapse that we’ve all recovered from.”
Heidi was a very smart money person and a very shrewd deal maker. She didn’t respond to my comment.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean you. You think I should look up his wife? I mean, his widowed wife.”
“I suppose you could. But honestly, what do you expect to accomplish? It may be she blames herself for his death. The circumstances you described, I’m guessing things could still be awfully tough for her. Maybe she thinks it was her fault. She just might like to never, ever be reminded of those days. Did they have any children?”
I looked up at her and shook my head. “Jesus, nice investigator.” My voice sort of trembled. “I don’t have the slightest idea. To tell you the truth, until the other day, I hadn’t thought of any of this for, well, for a very long time.”
She slid off her kitchen stool and squeezed my arm. “Don’t punish yourself, Dev. That’s my job. Come on, you left your car at your office last night. I’ll give you a lift back down there.” She gave me a lingering kiss on the cheek, then grabbed the rest of my caramel roll, stuffed it into her mouth and went to find her jacket.
Chapter Fifteen
Jimmy White’s wife, his widowed wife, was named Susan. As far as I knew she had always gone by Sue. I didn’t know if she’d kept White as her last name. I didn’t know her address. I didn’t even know if she was still in the area. I didn’t know anyone I could call to find out. I went online and did a reverse directory search. I came up with thirty-seven different Sue Whites in St. Paul within the proper age range.
I picked up the phone and started calling. I found her on the thirty-third call.
“Sue White, please.”
“Speaking,” I could hear what sounded like a young voice in the distant background.
“Sue, my name is Dev Haskell. I’m looking for a woman who was once married to a childhood friend of mine, James White.”
“Oh, sure, I recognize your name. Yeah, Jimmy mentioned you from time to time. You’re what, a fireman, is that right?”
“Actually, I’m a private investigator.”
“Really? Is this business or pleasure?”
“Sort of business, nothing you have to worry about. Actually, I was thinking about Jimmy and well, I wondered if I could maybe get together with you.”
“You know he passed away a few years ago.”
“Yeah, I knew that. Actually, I just wanted to talk to you about some things. I’m involved in an investigation and I just had some questions that…”
“An investigation? About me, about us? God, now what?”
“No, no nothing like that. To be honest, it involves someone who was in the same line of business as Jimmy. I just wanted to see if you could give me some direction. You know, which way to go in this thing. To be honest real estate investment and development is not my strong suit.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “I really don’t think I can help you. All that was his world, not mine. I’m an RN, pediatrics. If you have someone who needs a diaper change I might be able to help with that, but real estate and property development is something I don’t know anything about and I don’t want to know anything about.”
“I’d still like to talk.”
“I really don’t see how I can help,” then she seemed to address someone else and said, “just a minute honey, mommy’s on the phone.”
“Sounds like you’re busy. I promise I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.”
“I suppose. I’ve got to pick up at day care so we won’t be home until after four-thirty tomorrow.”
“If I stopped by around five, could I just have maybe fifteen minutes? I’d gladly pick up dinner.”
She sort of laughed and said, “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” Then she gave me her address and hung up.
Chapter Sixteen
I was in the office by nine the following morning, attempting to learn anything I could about Renee Paris. I started out by Googling his name. Based on the volume of results that popped up I’d be in front of the computer for the better part of the day. I read the first half dozen articles that were posted, three from the St. Paul Pioneer Press. A couple more appeared to be a four part series from a local financial publication. There was another long column from the Minneapolis Star Tribune that had run in their business section. Those were just the articles in the past few months. Checking dates on the postings, the things went back more than thirty years and there seemed to be a common thread to the headlines. “Loans Called, Investors Sue, Project put on hold, Code Violation Lawsuit, Court Decision Appealed.”
I didn’t know who was handling his legal maneuvering. Whoever it was, they had to be nicely compensated. While everyone else seemed to end up in the poor house, Paris was still out there walking around free and doing another deal. Meanwhile, the body count of folks who were financially ruined or just couldn’t take it anymore continued to rise.
Sixty minutes later, just an hour into my research and pretty much everything Louie had suggested looked to be true. It was sort of like reading about some politician trying to get ahead of an ongoing story. There’d be a statement from Paris attesting to one thing or another and then a story posted a week or a month later, listing all sorts of factual information that read completely contrary to what Paris had said. The common denominator was Paris always seemed to walk away and someone else always seemed to be left holding the bag.
I phoned Danielle in the early afternoon.
“Hi, Danielle.”
“Dev?”
“Right, just checking to see if you heard anything from Paris.”
“No.” The way she said it seemed to suggest something like ‘Why would I?’
“Well, I guess I was just hoping he would respond in some way, a call, an email, something that might suggest he took our little conversation to heart.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Dev. That’s not his style.”
“There’s a word that’s not applied to Renee Paris too often, style.”
That didn’t seem to raise a reaction.
“Anyway,” I said. “If you hear anything from him you’ll let me know. Right?”
“You’ll be the first person I call. Hey, I’ve got to run, I’ve got another call coming through,” she said.
“Call me back if it’s him,” I said, but she’d already hung up.
Chapter Seventeen
At exactly five o’clock I rang Sue White’s door bell. She lived in a single level, nondescript tract house that looked to have been built in the mid-sixties. Just like all the other nondescript tract homes for blocks around. There seemed to be four or five different versions of the same style. A front door on the ri
ght or left corner of the home, a large living room picture window in the middle and what I guessed were two side-by-side bedroom windows on the opposite corner.
The siding on Sue’s home was a cedar shake sort of affair with a large flat panel between the picture and bedroom windows painted the same color as the trim. Sue’s home was light gray with the flat panel and her trim a peeling white. Her front door was a glossy fire engine red.
I rang the doorbell a second time, hoping she hadn’t forgotten. In an effort to try and extract some warmth I moved my hands tighter around the take out pizza box I was holding. The evening temperature was already below zero and dropping. The double cheese and sausage pizza box I held felt barely warm and was quickly losing any semblance of heat.
The door was suddenly opened by an attractive, redheaded woman in hospital scrubs. Her hair was pulled back and wrapped in a loose bun.
“Mr. Haskell?” She smiled.
“Please, call me Dev.” I said and sort of raised the barely warm pizza box.
“Come on in. Oh, gee, you didn’t have to do that,” she said, taking the box. “But, thanks. I was just wondering what I was going to serve Jimmy.”
The look on my face must have given me away.
“My five-year-old son. He’s at the kitchen counter watching the Grinch.”
“Yeah, sure, you had me for a brief moment there,” I said, then pushed the door closed behind. I followed her through a living room and into the kitchen. There was a small Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room sparsely decorated with little twinkling white lights. As I passed I noticed one small gift covered with candy cane Christmas wrap placed beneath the tree.
“Jimmy, this is Mr. Haskell. Would you please look up from the Grinch long enough to say hello?”
He was seated at the kitchen counter and the little face that looked up was the spitting image of his father as I remembered him in about Kindergarten. Close cropped light brown hair, a cowlick hairline and happy blue eyes.
