Mike Faricy - Devlin Haskell 07 - Ting-A-Ling

by Mike Faricy

  “I’m not hiding anything. I told you I haven’t seen Renee since…well, since forever. You didn’t tell the police my name, did you?”

  “No. That’s why I’m asking you now. I wanted to make sure it was all right with you before I passed your name on. They’ll find out sooner or later. Your name is bound to be listed along with maybe a thousand other people who were involved with Paris. It would just be a good idea to get it out there on your terms before the police come around knocking. And believe me, they will, come around knocking, that is.”

  “You think they’ll want to talk to me? The police?” Her voice had raised an octave.

  “I don’t know, Danielle, maybe, maybe not. I’m just saying you could do yourself a favor by letting them know. Obviously your concern about being repaid was one of, if not the last thing, presented to Paris before that fire. You saw the report about human remains being found in the rubble, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t have anything to do with that.” She sounded defensive and her voice was suddenly up another octave.

  “I’m not saying you did, Danielle. I’m just suggesting that in your own interest it would probably make sense to let them know you have nothing to hide.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “Exactly, which is why you should get in touch with them or let me tell them you were the client I was working for when I spoke with Paris.” It was beginning to feel like I was talking to a thirteen-year-old.

  “I’m just not sure. I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Well, do what you want. Just remember, they aren’t going to be sitting around waiting. Sooner or later you’ll have to move on this, and the sooner you do, the better it will be.”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. I just don’t like being pressured, is all.”

  “Believe me, this is nothing like the pressure the police can put you under. You may want to talk to your attorney first. See what they suggest. I’m not trying to pressure you, Danielle, honest. I’m just giving you a heads up.”

  “Okay, okay, God, I already told you, I’ll think about it.” She sounded like a snippy little teenager.

  “Fine, just don’t think too long. I gotta believe the police are working on this full time. If the remains they found turn out to be Paris they are going to zero in on you and me.”

  “Well, then it sounds like we should probably end our working relationship.” She spoke in almost a pouty, little girl way, as if to say, ‘I’ll show you.’

  “Our working relationship?”

  “Well, yes. I mean, I enjoyed everything and all, but I’m feeling like you’ve done as much as you can. And, well, maybe it would just be better if we weren’t in touch any longer. I mean, you did talk to him, Renee, and I haven’t heard back, so obviously that didn’t work. I think the next thing I should do is maybe just take your advice.”

  “My advice?” Either she wasn’t catching on or she was suddenly way ahead of me, I wasn’t sure which it was.

  “Yeah, I’ll just get in touch with my family’s attorney and take Renee to court. I don’t know, maybe it was a mistake to hire you in the first place.”

  “To hire me? Danielle, it’s not like I forced you. Remember? You called me. It was the middle of the night, I was asleep and you were sitting on the toilet at Bun…”

  “I think I’ll just contact my attorney. I should have done that in the first place instead of letting you get involved and create this horrible mess.”

  “Horrible mess?”

  “Whatever. Look, I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done,” she said and just hung up.

  I called her back once I calmed down. I got a message that said, “The person at this number is not taking calls at this time.”

  “So?” Louie asked after I’d hung up.

  “So nothing. Apparently, everything is suddenly my fault. She’s going to contact her family attorney. Then I think she fired me. I don’t know it’s almost like she’s living in her own little dream world.”

  “There’s a surprise. Someone with a trust fund not dealing with reality. Did she happen to mention who her attorney is?”

  “No, and I think it might make a lot of sense to not try and grab her as a client, if that’s the direction you’re heading.”

  “Believe me, I don’t need her kind of business. Like I said, reality isn’t the strong suit.”

  “What a strange chick. Hey, speaking of attorneys, does this name ring a bell with you? Richard Hedstrom?”

  “God, you’re kidding? The Dick Head? Where did you run into that jackass?”

  “Actually, I didn’t. A pal of mine had used him sometime back. His wife mentioned the guy’s name. I’d never heard of him before.”

  “I think he was a couple years ahead of me in law school. Not the kind of guy who’s easy to like, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m not sure I do.”

  “I don’t know exactly. It’s not that he’s an intentional jerk or anything. It just always seems to work out that way. He’s all about himself and if you get screwed in the process, well, that wasn’t his intention, so it’s not his fault. He’s another one of those people who really doesn’t need anyone else. He’s just perfectly content with himself. My guess, your pal feels he got screwed. Whenever anyone deals with guys like the Dick Head, you’re just never going to come out on top.”

  “Sounds like Renee Paris.”

  “I guess it does now that you mention it. Maybe birds of a feather.”

  “This gal, my friend’s wife, she thinks Hedstrom is tied into Renee Paris, somehow.”

  “Let me guess, Dick Head was their attorney, he was going to file an action or a cease and desist order or something against Paris and they’re out a couple of grand and not much to show for it.”

  “Close. Actually, they’re out ten grand, cash up front, with nothing to show for it. I forget how or maybe she never even told me. But she seemed pretty sure Hedstrom and Paris were tied in together.”

  “Possibly, from the sounds of it. Obviously they’d swim in the same shitty water, developers and bankers. Not to defend Hedstrom, but your friends may not have had much of a case to begin with. A lot of people end up thinking they got screwed by their attorney because when the deal was cut they were too smart and too special, so they didn’t need an attorney in the first place. They somehow get it in their heads that they don’t have to read the fine print like the rest of us.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That cash up front she referred to, Dick Head probably called it a retainer, he may’ve known going in that they didn’t have much of a shot. He may have even tried to talk them out of the whole undertaking. You’d be surprised the hours a guy can spend filing briefs, working a case and after you give it your very best effort, the client doesn’t think he should have to pay. All because you weren’t successful and couldn’t grab his one percent shot at victory.”

  “Yeah, she alluded to some of that, at least the too smart angle when dealing with Paris,” I said.

  “Neither one of them, Paris or Hedstrom would seem to be the sort of person you could count on to watch your back. If they’re working together, Paris and Hedstrom, everyone else is going to come out on the short end of the stick. That’s just an unpleasant fact of life.”

  “I think she knows that now.”

  “Wow, Richie Hedstrom, the Dick Head. Man, I haven’t thought of him in years.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I knew I should be relieved, but it bothered me that Danielle had fired me. Even though I’d done exactly what she asked, and for all intents and purposes I’d successfully completed my task. I decided not to let her actions bother me. I simply moved beyond her stupid, petty, childish, rash, unimportant, and inconsequential outburst and went in a completely dif
ferent direction. I wanted to find out everything I could regarding Richard Hedstrom.

  I went online to check him out. He looked squeaky clean at least as far as his Google persona read. There were a couple of articles where his name was mentioned, but nothing earth shattering. Like Louie, he seemed to have developed a specialized law practice. The only difference was Hedstrom dealt with commercial development instead of drink related crime. That put him in the same cess pool with the likes of Renee Paris, but it also put him in with guys like Jimmy White. Hey, there were even sleaze balls in my business.

  A reverse directory search gave his address as living in a pretty tony condo along the river. Like sixty-percent of today’s population it didn’t list a land line phone number. It didn’t list the names of any other individuals at the address, either. No wife or kids which meant, there was a fifty-fifty chance, maybe, that he lived alone.

  I knew the development. There were five, four story brick buildings with underground parking, tree lined brick paths and flower gardens along the river. They were situated on a rise along a bend in the Mississippi, where every unit boasted a balcony with a view of the river. The entire area was cordoned off from average people like me by thick hedges and a manned guard house that gave you clearance before you could drive in.

  No casual callers here, the guards had to be alerted in advance of your arrival and departure times. They made a note of who you were, and probably took your picture and finger prints before they issued you a parking permit that had to be placed on the dash of your car. The condo units started at about nine hundred and fifty grand and headed north, depending on amenities. They were populated by heavy hitters and the ‘Swells’. The development was named River View Terrace, but collectively referred to around town as the ‘Viagra Triangle’.

  I’d been in there once, about six years ago, attending an anniversary celebration of a girlfriend’s parents. She dumped me the following morning on her way out the door. I hadn’t been invited back since.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t seem to find your name on the list. As a matter of fact, I don’t see any appointments scheduled for Mr. Hedstrom for the entire afternoon.” The guard spoke to me via a speaker. He looked comfortable, seated in his cushioned black chair where he looked down on me from inside his heated guard shack. He flipped through pages on his clip board and searched for my name that wasn’t there. He wore a black sweater with epilates and some sort of official looking badge embroidered over his left breast. A mug of coffee steamed on the counter in front of him.

  I was freezing behind the wheel of my Lincoln. The heater was apparently in one of its temperamental moods and not performing. I had the window rolled down so I could talk to the guard. Something close to a gale force wind was blowing off the frozen Mississippi, into my car and whipping trash and an old newspaper around the back seat. I was sure he could hear my teeth chattering as I spoke.

  “I just talked with him less than twenty minutes ago. He said he was going to jump in the shower. I’ve got a business meeting scheduled with him at two.”

  At the mention of a business meeting the guard’s eyes darted sideways for a moment, making note of the Lincoln. He looked down at me questioningly from his heated perch inside the guard shack. Out of the corner of his eye he could no doubt catch the trash blowing around in my back seat.

  “Like I said before, sir. I don’t have you listed on our arrival directory. I’m terribly sorry, but it is our policy.”

  I glanced in the rear view mirror and what looked like a shinny new Range Rover had just turned off Shepard Road and was heading toward us. The guard glanced behind me at the same time and seemed to make a mental note.

  “I wonder. Could you call him and check? I would, but my phone isn’t getting any service down here, must be those bluffs behind us.” I smiled.

  He gave a long stare that delivered his message, and then glanced at the Range Rover now idling behind me. There was a woman sitting behind the wheel who looked about twenty-two. From what I could determine in my rearview mirror her matching hat and fur coat were probably worth more than my Lincoln. I watched as she took the moment to lower her sun visor and seemed to apply makeup in the mirror. The guard caught it too, then reluctantly reached for his phone.

  As he waited listening to the phone ringing on the other end his scowl deepened. “Sorry, sir, no answer.”

  “Must still be in the shower. What number did you call? He’s got a couple of phones,” I said, making it up as I went along.

  The guard closed his eyes for a long moment probably pleading to God to give him strength. He glanced at his clip board and rattled off a number.

  “That’s six-five-one area code, right?”

  “Yes it is. Sir, I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to pull around and find some place where your phone works. Call Mr. Hedstrom and have him get in touch with us. Then I’d be happy to admit you.”

  “I understand. Thanks for your help,” I said and began to pull around the guard shack. The Lincoln sort of farted and emitted a cloud of black exhaust that withstood the gale force for a long moment before contaminating the formerly pristine snow. All the while I was repeating the phone number to myself. The Lincoln was so long I had to pull ahead at an angle, back up, pull ahead for a few more feet and back up again to complete my U-turn.

  As I backed up I looked at the gorgeous blonde behind the wheel of the Range Rover. She lowered her window, handed the guard an envelope and said, “Hi, Gerry.”

  Gerry pocketed the envelope and said something back. She glanced in my direction and smiled. Just as I pulled ahead I heard her say, “No problem, it happens.”

  By the time I made it around the guard shack and headed back out to Shepard Road the Range Rover had already driven into the complex. I remembered the place was called the Viagra Triangle and wondered if she was a working girl.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I took the first exit off Shepard road, drove up a hill and pulled into the Irving Park neighborhood. I was just a block from the historic Ramsey House, home to Minnesota’s first governor. I parked across from a little park with a frozen water fountain and dialed the number the guard had given me. I continued to repeat the number out loud as I dialed.

  The phone rang a half dozen times before a recording came on that said, “The message center you have reached is full at this time.” Apparently Dick Head didn’t feel the need to answer his phone or check his messages.

  The heater in the Lincoln was sputtering, threatening to spring to life and I decided to take a drive past Danielle’s home. That quickly turned out to be a disappointing waste of my time and I drove back to the office. On the way, the heater alternated between blowing a semblance of heat or pungent exhaust fumes into the car. I had to crack open the driver’s window for some fresh air just to keep me from being asphyxiated. I parked right in front of our building and ran inside.

  It was after three, and I smelled the empty coffee pot burning the moment I unlocked the door. Louie was nowhere around. I turned it off, then sat at my desk with my jacket on, starring out the window, thinking. Louie drifted in about four-thirty.

  “What smells?”

  “You left the coffee pot on, again.”

  “Oh,” he said, and tossed his briefcase on the picnic table.

  “Not ‘oh’, Louie. You’re going to burn the place down one of these days.”

  “Hey, I’m not the only one. You’ve done it too.”

  “No argument, but you seem to be doing it a lot more often. I don’t know, I suppose we could just put a timer on that outlet so the thing shuts off by noon every day.”

  “Sounds like a real pain,” Louie said.

  “How about a better idea, we pool our resources, fifteen bucks a pop and for thirty bucks we buy a new coffee maker that automatically shuts off after an hour or two,” I said
.

  “That seems to make more sense. I need to go over to The Spot anyway. I’ll get some cash. You game?”

  “You buying?” I asked.

  “Apparently.”

  We weren’t in there long, at least not by our standards. Louie told me about the case he lost that afternoon, a client of his up on a fourth DUI in five years. Louie tried to get him sentenced to in-patient treatment, but since that hadn’t worked the last two times the guy drew four years.

  “How’d your day go?” he asked, then drained his glass and signaled for another by pushing his empty toward the back edge of the bar.

  “About the same, only no one drew jail time. You heard me talking to Princess Danielle this morning and getting fired. Things sort of drifted downhill from there. I tried to get Richard Hedstrom’s phone number from the guard shack down at the Viagra Triangle.”

  “Those condos? He’s got a place down there?”

  “Yep. I made like I had an appointment to see him, but the bastards wouldn’t let me in, and gave me his phone number to call instead.”

  “Nice security.”

  “Well, that’s the short version.”

  Louie nodded, then sipped from the fresh pour Mike had just placed in front of him.

  “I called the number they gave me, but it dropped me into one of those recordings about the message center being full. Either he doesn’t check his messages, he’s been somewhere out of range for awhile, or the thing is broken.”

  Louie shook his head. “Maybe he’s on vacation, but a guy with his kind of practice is on call twenty-four-seven. He could be sitting on a beach in Hawaii, but if he was needed, he’d have to hop on the next flight back here. His clients are flush enough. They don’t get that kind of service, they’ll drop Dick Head like a hot potato.”

  “Good point. I don’t know, there’s just something about this whole deal that bugs me.”

  “Take a bit of advice from a pal?” Louie said, then looked at me over the rim of his glass.