The Complete Matt Jacob Series

by Klein, Zachary;

  He still looked tired, but a little less resigned. No worry, I had resignation covered for the two of us.

  “That’s been my feeling, but I hadn’t really thought about you in all this. I suppose I’ve been pretty self-centered. I would like you to continue if you really can see your way clear.”

  I shrugged. Clarity was the problem, but there was no choice. If I kept seeing things I didn’t like I would just add them to the mound of crap I already lived with.

  He smiled and a little of his earlier humor returned. “So what about the Lincoln?”

  “I don’t know yet. I have the plate number and now I need a way to check it out.”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “What’s the problem? Call Motor Vehicle, they’ll give you the name and address.”

  “It’s not that easy, I only have a fragment. Don’t worry about it, I’ll think of something. In other words, you take your mind off this shit and I take care of it for you.”

  “Aren’t you getting carried away? I can find a way to check this easier than you. What’s the big deal?”

  “It is a big deal. If I do this I want to do it my way. You can’t keep this stuff in perspective. Just let me do my job and leave me alone about it.”

  He looked at me like he was about to argue but only said, “It’s frustrating to telephone and get no answer. Are you sure you won’t get a machine?”

  I shook my head. “Just give me a little breathing room.”

  He rubbed his face again. “You know, the stuff I said about you owing me and all, that was bullshit. There was no call for that; you don’t have anything to repay me for.”

  But I did. “Of course I do, but this isn’t a favor. I’m going to charge.

  Between you and the other case I can almost think of myself as working.

  He didn’t seem too interested in my sudden industry. He started out from under the bullrushes and walked absently toward the path. After a step or two he looked back at me with a determined look on his face. “I’m happy to pay. How are you going to trace the fragment? As your client I think I’m entitled to that much.”

  The rain had stopped, though every time the wind blew the branches shook their moisture loose. But Simon was planted pretty firmly. It was no time for invention.

  “I’m not sure yet. I told you, I would figure it out.”

  “What about Boots?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s probably got access to government mainframes.”

  “Why?”

  His face broke into a big grin. “Everyone knows that Uncle Sam sleeps with Ma Bell. I’m not sure she can get the information but she would know how.” He paused for a moment and looked at me. “If you don’t want to see her I can.”

  “No thanks, I’ll do my own talking. But leave me alone about the fucking Lincoln. Please Simon, this ain’t gonna turn up anything that will help you. You got to remember that.”

  He started to walk up the path and back into the park. I caught up with him and could see the tightness of his jaw and the obstinacy in his eyes.

  “It’s difficult to leave it alone.”

  I nodded and, as I walked him back to his car, we talked ball. Although the weather seemed a brighter shade of gray and the wind had regained hints of summer breeze, neither of us supplied the conversation with much zip. Lately, all we had managed to spark in each other were our problems. It didn’t make for good baseball talk.

  I stripped off my wet clothes and settled down, exhausted, in front of Charles Laughton playing Henry VIII. I jacked the heat high enough to loll around in my underwear; if I couldn’t have sunlit warmth at least I could use technology. I was still waiting for it to feel like summer when the phone rang. For someone who disliked the telephone, I was spending an awful lot of time answering it. I made a mental note to pull the plug after the call.

  “Matthew Jacob? Alex Hirsh here.”

  I stood up. His voice sounded distant, as if he were talking on a speaker phone. It conjured up an image of him, spare, ramrod-straight, standing in a penthouse office overlooking the city.

  “Hello, Alex. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?”

  “Matthew, I’ll get right to the point. Simon informed me about your work concerning Fran and I think it’s time we talked.”

  I don’t know why I was surprised. I really should have anticipated this once I’d heard that he knew. Important people don’t get important by ignoring what’s going on around them.

  “How can I help?”

  “I think it would be a good idea if we met.” Unlike the other night there was no trace of Jewish in his voice.

  Laughton was just getting ready to rid himself of his first Anne. If we quickly set a time I could get back without missing much. “Where and when?”

  “How about your place now?”

  “My place? Now?”

  “Is there a problem? Are you occupied?”

  I had previously seen old Henry hang ‘em high and I had a hunch that even if I hadn’t Hirsh would have trouble accepting the four o’clock movie as a substantial barrier to our meeting.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come to you?” I looked around the house and calculated the length of time it would take to make it presentable.

  “No need, Matthew. I would prefer it this way.”

  His tone made it clear that we were going to meet here. What the hell, it isn’t often that money and power walks through my door.

  “Could you give me twenty minutes?”

  “Of course. See you then.” The connection was abruptly severed and I was left with a dial tone in my ear as I wondered how he knew my address. I looked at the clock and hurried to get dressed and neaten the apartment. I felt like a college kid ready for a visit from his parents. I guess I was smiling at myself when Alex knocked and walked through my front door.

  “What’s so amusing, Matthew?” He stood just inside the doorway and surveyed my living room decor. I stifled my grin. Alex could look imperial anywhere.

  “How did you find your way down here? I was waiting for the buzzer.”

  “It wasn’t that difficult.” He looked away from me and walked around to the shelf where I kept my radios. “Quite a collection you have here. Brings back memories. I’m surprised you don’t have any wooden ones.”

  “I started with wood but the more enamored I became with Deco, the more I got into Bakelite designs.”

  He walked around the room and inspected some of my other stuff. “Is this romance with the Forties the reason you are a private detective?”

  I smiled. “Maybe. I get the romance without the danger since I don’t really have a practice.”

  He had his eyes on me. They seemed friendly enough, but contained a hardness I never before noticed. Social was different from business, and right now I was business. Being in my apartment certainly couldn’t be a pleasure.

  “Why don’t you have a practice?” His tone was polite and he had walked over to the picture of the Chrysler Building that hung by the radios. I walked into the kitchen and shook the thermos. Empty. I went back to the other room.

  “Mostly I take care of the building.”

  “Do you own it?”

  It was funny how you could relate to someone in what seems like a variety of situations, over years, and still not know shit about them. His questions were just verifying the lack of knowledge we had about each other. I lit a cigarette. He didn’t like cigarettes, that much I knew, but we were in my house. “No, my father-in-law does. I manage it.”

  Maybe my touchiness showed.

  “And you do investigations part time, is that it?”

  “If you want to call legal research for Simon ‘investigations.’ ”

  He looked at me and nodded toward the kitchen table. “Do you mind if we sit over there? In this atmosphere I feel I should be sitting in the kitchen drinking tea from a glass.” He smiled. “I mean that as a compliment. There aren’t many places that could throw me so completely
back to my past.”

  I didn’t know if that was a compliment or not. “Would you like some tea? Or something else?”

  “No, I’m fine.” He glanced at his watch as we both sat down. He looked at my cigarette but didn’t say anything for a moment. I reached for an ashtray and stubbed the cigarette out.

  “I know you didn’t come here to visit; what’s going on?”

  “I’m here to ask you that.”

  “Nothing really. Simon asked me to keep an eye on Fran and I have.”

  He looked at me steadily. “Knowing my daughter I find it unlikely that nothing is going on.”

  There was enough ambiguity in his statement to make me nervous. “Well, you must know that she has been bothered by nightmares and Simon has a crazy idea that maybe someone real is bothering her.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not exactly what I meant. You are of the opinion that Simon’s idea has no merit?”

  I flopped my hand onto the table. “It’s a long jump from nightmare to reality. I’m an expert in the field.”

  “Oh? Well, Simon isn’t one to leave any stone unturned.” I couldn’t tell whether that was a compliment either.

  He looked at me earnestly. “It’s very difficult to stand idly by watching someone you love feel so troubled. Simon told me your view of this matter and I agree with your logic. Still, he also mentioned something about a young man with a Cadillac?”

  I was instantly guarded but saw no reason to respect my paranoia. In fact, I felt embarrassed about my caution. Alex, while aloof, had always been gracious in his dealings with me.

  “A Lincoln, but it’s nothing.” I shook my head and forced myself to tell the truth. This was quite a different Alex from the man who’d held center stage the other night. I wasn’t going to bullshit him. “I told that to Simon to keep him off my back.”

  “But there was a someone, wasn’t there?”

  “Yeah, but what’s the difference? There were a lot of cars there. I just picked it out of my head.”

  He looked at me carefully. “So you really don’t have any concerns about this person?”

  “Of course not. Like I say, I was just throwing Simon a bone.”

  He seemed satisfied with my answer. At least he didn’t push me to track the shmuck down.

  “Look, Alex, I’ll tell you what I told Simon. Nightmares are inside problems. There isn’t going to be an outside solution.”

  He stared at me for a long moment and said, “I agree with you. I’m not a person given to chasing illusions. But as far as I can tell, Simon is adamant.” A tired expression crossed his face. “And since you will be keeping an eye on Fran, there are some things you should know. If you don’t already.”

  I started to protest but he cut me off with a wave of his hand. Or maybe the flash of diamonds when he moved his hand silenced me.

  “No, let me finish. Since her teenage years Fran has been extraordinarily insecure about her attractiveness to men.” He shook his head sadly. “No amount of reality mattered. Or therapy for that matter.

  You see, although Fran is very much in love with Simon she relieves her insecurity with occasional encounters. I would not like to see her marriage with Simon disintegrate. And not just for my daughter’s well-being. I would not like to see my son-in-law hurt over something that has so little meaning or importance.”

  For a moment I wondered how protective he was being of his own reputation, but I thought my idea a reflection of my discomfort with the conversation. Reputation was irrelevant to an Alex Hirsh at this point in his life. My silence pushed him to underscore.

  “What I’m asking for, I suppose, is discretion.”

  I thought of my encounter with Fran at 290. “What if one of these men is a source of difficulty?”

  “Difficulty?”

  “What if someone got her pregnant?”

  He looked directly into my eyes, “Frances has handled complications before without their becoming disastrous.”

  Enough was enough, and I’d heard more than I wanted to. As far as I was concerned I’d trust Alex’s assessment of Fran’s competency. I kept my mouth shut and nodded my understanding.

  His smile wrapped around me like an embrace. I resisted at first but slowly, felt myself drawn into his paternal warmth. “Your tact goes a long way to relieving my worry. If you discover something specific, perhaps we could talk before any action is taken? Or before you spoke with Simon?”

  The idea seemed deceitful. It also seemed wise. I’d been doing detective work for only a week, and I was already discovering personality qualities in myself that up till now I’d barely acknowledged. At this rate of discovery it would take another week before I’d know whether I’d take a bribe. “It seems okay to me. I really don’t think it will come to that.”

  He stood. I struggled to my feet. It had been a long time since I last noticed the aches in my body. Alex watched but didn’t say anything. Instead he asked, “What are you planning to do about the Cadillac?”

  “Lincoln. I don’t know. Maybe track it down.”

  He shook his head. “I worry about feeding Simon’s desperation. The longer he thinks something is possible, the longer he’ll keep up this charade.”

  I didn’t like hearing myself called a charade, but I knew what he meant. The less I’m out there looking, the less I was going to see.

  “I sort of agree with you, Alex.”

  “So you’ll drop the Lincoln hoax?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a hoax, exactly.”

  Hirsh was instantly apologetic. “You are absolutely right. I’m sure you are doing your best to calm Simon and I do understand his capacity to be overly enthusiastic.” We both smiled in silent acknowledgment of Alex’s understatement.

  “Okay, Alex, I suppose you’re right about the Lincoln. It probably would just fan the fire.” I felt a pang of regret about losing a lunch with Boots, but it wasn’t enough of an argument to hurt Simon or fuel my own delusions about detecting.

  He stood by the front door and took a long lingering look at me. “I appreciate both your time and sensitivity, Matthew. This was an extremely difficult visit for a parent to make, and you have made it as painless as possible. Please, let me know if you need anything. I will try to be of help. And please contact me if you do see anything at all untoward.”

  “Thank you, sir. That’s very nice of you.” He bowed slightly and walked out the door. I walked after him and stood in the hall as he surefootedly navigated his way to the stairs. I heard the first floor door shut before I walked back into the living room. I sat down on the couch and didn’t bother to get the dope or turn on the television. I looked around the tidy apartment and wondered what the fuck just happened.

  I woke the next morning drenched in sweat. Dreams of an undertow I’d wrestled during the night kept trying to insinuate themselves into my wakefulness but I fought them off. I didn’t need the details. Awake, I already felt pulled into the underside of people’s lives, and it made me uncomfortable to remember Richard’s comment that the work suited.

  I showered off the frights and dug around in my dresser for clothes. Most of them were dirty. I stood naked and transfixed in front of two almost empty drawers.

  I yanked myself away from the bureau and grabbed yesterday’s pants. I walked into the alley to get the paper and was hit with a strong smell of ocean. It was going to be another chilly day. I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes and guarding my rolled-up paper. The clothes seemed symbolic. When I had nowhere to go I had plenty of clothes. Now I had places to go but I didn’t know where, or what to wear. In a perverse way the idea gave me pleasure. I prepared to do a wash.

  After the changeover from washer to dryer I pulled on a tee shirt and sweats and marched barefoot through the building to Julius’ apartment. If I got there early enough he might still be around. I banged on the door and waited. I heard him rustle and then call out.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Me. Matt.”
>
  “Well, pick the lock. No need to get me on my feet in the middle of the fucking night.”

  “If I do, the landlord will evict.”

  The door opened and I stood staring at Julius’ saggy face. His eyes were red and blurry and his breath smelled like he had just used bourbon for mouthwash. For a moment I thought about leaving him alone but he was already grunting me through the entrance. All the blinds in the apartment were down but there was enough light from the bathroom fixture to make finding the kitchen possible.

  “Jesus, Julie, you ain’t a bat.”

  He walked over and put the stove’s hood light on. “I don’t like light when I’m sleeping. Or when I’m supposed to be sleeping.”

  “It’s not that early.”

  He just looked at me.

  “Okay, it is that early. But hell, you woke me up the other night.”

  “I brought you shit when I came over.” He looked at my hands. “Your arms are empty.” He looked down at my bare feet. “Damn, even yourieet are empty.” He walked into the bathroom and came back with a bottle of bourbon. He sat across the table from me and took a drink. Or was it a rinse? He offered but I just made a face. I didn’t want to swallow and it wasn’t polite to spit on the floor. My refusal made him smile. Or grimace. I wasn’t sure.

  “Are you doing rent collecting, s’lord?”

  “Look, I’m sorry about disturbing you. If you want we can meet another time.” I put my hands up. I’d been party to Julie’s bad moods before and I wasn’t about to instigate another.

  He took another swallow from the bottle, stood, walked into the bedroom and returned with a fat joint. He sat back down, snuffed out his cigarette, and lit the joint. I watched as he smoked. Eyes closed, settling back in his chair. I could almost see the smoke work its way through his body. I wanted some.

  As if he could read my mind, Julie opened his eyes and offered me the joint but I didn’t want to get high until I made a final decision about calling Boots. I shook my head and lit a cigarette instead. Julius continued to focus on the joint. I didn’t see the percentage in rushing him.

  When he finally spoke the edge of hostility was gone. “Doesn’t seem like you’re here about the building.”