by Parnell Hall
“Well, thanks a lot,” Richard said. “Next time square your own blackmail rap.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just everything else.”
“Right. What have you done for me lately?”
“Richard—”
He put up his hand. “Hey, I quite understand. Losing five grand’s a bit of a kick in the ass.”
“It’s not that.”
“Well, what is it? You want to sue that bastard Thurman? I can understand that, but it was simply not to be. You may feel like shit, but you don’t have a mark on you. So it’s your word against his. That false-arrest bit—so the guy made a mistake. We’d have to prove malice.”
“You think there wasn’t malice?”
“Hey, I know it and you know it. It’s another thing to prove it.”
“I know that, Richard. That isn’t it.”
“Then what’s your problem?”
“My client’s dead.”
“That’s hardly your fault.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?”
“That five thousand dollars.”
“So it is that.”
“Yes and no.”
Richard sighed. “You’re too fucking complicated, you know it?” He leaned back in his chair, took a sip of coffee. “Do you understand what I just did for you? The cops had you dead to rights on blackmail. Two counts. They also had you as chief suspect in a murder.” He put up his hand. “Now, granted, that’s just because they didn’t have any other suspects. But still. All in all, it was not an enviable position for a young gentleman to find himself in.
“Now, bear in mind I’m a negligence lawyer. This is not my field of expertise. But what do I do? I waltz into the courthouse and parlay all that into total immunity. Well, not on the murder, but no one seriously thinks you did it. It’s a home run all the way around. And if that five grand had existed, you can bet your ass we’d have wound up with that too. It’s the only thing I couldn’t swing, and only because it wasn’t fucking there.
“And then I ask you if that’s what’s bothering you and you say yes and no.”
“I’m not upset we didn’t get the money. Hell, getting the money was your idea. I wouldn’t have even thought of it. I’m upset that it was paper.”
“Me too,” Richard said. “But that’s not what you mean, is it? No, you want to know who put the newsprint in the envelope and why it happened.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. If I thought the cops did it, and I thought I had a chance of proving it, then sure. There’s nothing I’d like better than to make them cough it up. But I can’t see that happening.”
“You really think they did it?”
Richard shrugged. “This Sergeant Thurman does not strike me as an entirely honest cop. But he wasn’t there when you were booked, was he?”
“No.”
“Right. But there’s nothing to stop him from showing up later. Identifying himself as the officer in charge of the case and asking to look at your personal possessions.”
“Could you prove that?”
Richard held up his hand, fluttered it back and forth. “Iffy thing. The cop in charge is probably in his hip pocket. I’m not saying he’d lie for him, but he probably wouldn’t volunteer anything. Which means you wouldn’t get an answer till you got him in court. And even if you did, it’s an iffy thing. Whether the cops did it, I mean.”
“And if they didn’t?”
“Your client handed you a packet of paper.”
“That’s what I can’t understand.”
“Do you have to?”
I sighed, nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
Richard nodded. “See? That’s the difference. I don’t.” He took a sip of coffee, cocked his head. “On the other hand, I’m only human.”
I looked at him. “What does that mean?”
He smiled. “If you happen to find out, let me know.”
17.
I DIDN’T EXPECT SERGEANT MACAULLIF to be too pleased to see me. Last case we worked on together, he’d come close to beating me up. I’d spoken to him once since then. The only thing that had kept him from beating me up on that occasion was the fact we happened to be talking on the phone.
MacAullif was reading some report or other when I came in. I’m sure he was aware of my presence, though he took no notice of it and went on reading. After what seemed an interminable amount of time, he lowered the paper and looked up.
“You got a lot of nerve,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Coming in here.”
“I need to talk.”
“You always need to talk. You’re un-fucking-real.”
“There’s no reason to be hostile.”
“No, of course not. You come in here to shit on a fellow officer. I should just sit back and applaud.”
“What makes you say that?’
“I’m not dumb. You think I’m not up on the Patricia Connely homicide?”
“I’m glad to hear it. That’s what I’d like to talk about.”
“I bet you would. You should talk to Sergeant Thurman. It’s his case.”
“Last time I talked to him, I wound up in the drunk tank.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.”
“So?”
“So, it’s embarrassing.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Damn good idea. Wish I’d thought of it.”
“MacAullif—”
“Imagine letting Sergeant Thurman steal a march on me like that.”
“Very funny.”
“And such a neat, effective idea. I bet you can’t even prove false arrest, can you?”
“I’ve already waived it.”
“You have? Son of a bitch. That makes it look like one hell of a dandy move now, don’t it?”
“Yes and no. It got me out of two counts of blackmail. If Thurman hadn’t jumped the gun, he might have nailed me on those.”
“You got immunity?”
“You bet your ass I did.”
“Then you are lucky. A smart cop would have nailed you to the wall.”
“You sound like you’re up on the case.”
“Of course I’m up on the case. I saw you were involved, I said, holy shit, I’d better protect myself.”
“Then you know why I’m here.”
“Sure. You’re a meddling, pain-in-the-ass son of a bitch can’t leave well enough alone.”
“I mean aside from that.”
MacAullif squinted up at me. “You know, you look terrible. You been to sleep yet?”
“Not so’s you could notice.”
“Why don’t you go home, get some sleep? Your brain’s foggy, you’re not thinkin’ straight. Not that you ever did, but still. When you wake up, maybe you see things a little clearer. Maybe get a little smarter. Like, maybe you’ll realize talking to me ain’t such a great idea.”
“Just who should I be talking to?”
“What A.D.A. caught this case?”
“Guy named Frost.”
“Oh. Baby-Face.”
“Oh? You know him?”
“Not personally.”
“I see,” I said. “You just know him from the guys making jokes.”
MacAullif nodded. “Hmm. Maybe you’re not too tired after all. Anyway, what’s wrong with talkin’ to him? Aside from the fact you might slip up and offer him a pacifier or something.”
“I couldn’t take this up with him.”
“Why not?”
“It’s rather delicate. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“Well, ain’t this my lucky day. What’s so fuckin’ delicate?”
“How much do you really know about this case? I mean, you didn’t know Frost was A.D.A.”
“No. I just know you stumbled on a body and clammed up on Thurman, who threw you in the drunk tank.”
“What about the blackmail?”
“What about it?”
“When
I said I traded away two counts of blackmail, you said I was lucky, a smart cop would have nailed me on it.”
“So?”
“So what do you know about the blackmail?”
“Nothing. I was just yankin’ your chain.”
I exhaled. “MacAullif.”
“Hey, you’re the one come chargin’ in here giving me a hard time. You don’t expect me to fight back?”
“Then you don’t know about the blackmail. Right. Of course you don’t. Because Frost didn’t know till Richard made the deal. Well, that’s the setup. The dead woman had hired me to pay blackmail. I was following telephone instructions from the blackmailer when I stumbled on the body.”
MacAullif made a face. “Do I really need to know this?”
“Frost does, so you’ll be hearing it anyway. What’s the big deal?”
“Frost’s an A.D.A. who grants immunity. Me, I’m a cop. I feel funny listening to a guy talking about paying blackmail.”
“You rather I call it something else? How about a rent payment? The woman hired me to pay her rent and—”
“Fuck you.”
“Anyway, I made one payment, bought the lady a nice set of dirty pictures.”
“Of her?”
“No. Two other people I never saw before, but looked like porno actors.”
“So?”
“So second verse same as the first, except now I’m getting the negatives.”
“You didn’t get ’em the first time?”
“Don’t start with me. I was making a pickup and delivery, no questions asked, and no one was letting me call the shots. Anyway, the second time the guy I’m meeting is running me all over town before he’s willing to hook up and make the switch. And the last place I wind up there’s a corpse.”
“Gee, what rough luck. A nice, legitimate private detective engaged in the perfectly respectable art of making blackmail payments and something like that happens. It’s enough to make you cry.”
“Here’s the point. When I found the body I had the money on me. For the payoff. In a sealed envelope. When they booked me and threw me in the drunk tank, that envelope was taken from me along with everything else.”
“So?”
“When I was released, they hung onto the envelope.”
“Naturally. What’s your point?”
“Frost produced it this afternoon. Only, when he did, it had been slit open.”
“And?”
“Instead of the five grand I expected to find in it, it was stuffed with newsprint.”
“No shit?”
“None. Which makes no sense at all.”
“Why not?”
“I knew this woman. I talked to her. There’s no way she throws me to the sharks with a packet of newsprint. I mean, why? What the hell could she possibly hope to gain?”
“I have no idea.”
“Me either. So what if she didn’t?”
MacAullif’s eyes got hard. “What are you saying?”
“I’m talking about Sergeant Thurman. You once told me he’s not the best of all possible cops. I wanna know, straight out. Would he take the money?”
“Not on your fucking life,” MacAullif said. “Jesus, don’t you learn anything? Don’t you remember what I told you? Thurman’s not the smartest cop in the world, but he’s straight. At least he thinks he is. He might rough you up and throw you in the drunk tank, but bag five grand? No way. Sergeant Thurman don’t bag five grand. Sergeant Thurman busts a cop who bags five grand.”
MacAullif came around his desk, stood there towering over me. “You got that?”
“That seems rather clear. But in that case, where did the five grand go?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
He glared at me a moment, then turned around, walked back, and flopped himself down in his desk chair. He ran his hand over his head. “Boy, you’re a pain in the ass,” he said.
He opened his desk drawer, reached in, pulled out a cigar, and began to unwrap it.
I had him.
MacAullif’s doctor had made him give up cigars. He’d quit smoking them, but he still played with them from time to time when he was thinking things out.
He took the cigar, rolled it between his hands, frowned. “Don’t think I don’t see your problem. Your client’s dead and the cash disappeared. I put myself in your shoes, and I can understand your bein’ unhappy.” He leveled the cigar at me as if it were a gun. “Only, I wouldn’t put myself in your shoes. Because to do that’s condoning blackmail, and I don’t condone blackmail. You got it?”
“I got it the first time.”
He shook his head. “No. The first time was when this broad asked you to do it. You didn’t get it then. If you had, we wouldn’t be here.”
“If you just want to lecture me—”
“Oh, right,” MacAullif said. “Like I started this. Like I’m in your office giving you a hard time.” He drummed the cigar on his desk. “Where was I? I dunno. Doesn’t matter. Oh yeah. The money. You were askin’ me what happened to the money. And I was gettin’ pissed off at you askin’.
“All right. No. I’m not sayin’ it’s impossible a cop took it. But if so, it wasn’t Thurman. If it wasn’t Thurman, it isn’t likely, so I don’t think it happened at all.”
He shrugged. “This Baby-Face Frost—like I say, I don’t know him. Did he say he opened the envelope?”
I frowned. “I don’t think so. I think he just said it was opened.”
“Yeah. Well, like I say, I don’t know him. But then I can’t imagine a young A.D.A. riskin’ his position for a measly five grand.”
“We’re in a recession.”
“Tell me about it. But even so.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I think you should consider the possibility your client gave you a load of newsprint.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Maybe from your point of view. But you met the woman. I didn’t. She got nice tits?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Colors the perception. See, I got no preconception whatsoever. Just think of her as the woman who gave you the envelope, a factor in the equation. You see her as this person you met and it fucks up your head.”
“That’s not true.”
“Fine. I don’t really want to debate it. Anyway, I got no problem with the idea she’s the one pulled the number on you.”
“You got no problem with that?”
“None at all.”
“What about the fact it doesn’t make any sense?”
“How do you know it doesn’t? Try this. The woman wants the photos. Or the negatives. Or whatever. The guy’s askin’ five grand. Only, she ain’t got five grand. So she takes a shot. She gives you a sealed envelope full of shit, hopes the guy won’t notice till you made the switch, and you’re outta there. Then if the guy ain’t happy, she’s got the pictures and the negatives, so there’s nothing much he can do about it.”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t fly.”
“Why not?”
“The first payoff was exactly the same thing. She gives me a fat envelope to buy the pix. Only, that envelope actually had five grand.”
“Right. Which cleaned her out. Which is why she’s broke now. Which is why she does the dirty.”
“You don’t understand. The reason I know there was five grand in there is, when I gave the guy the envelope, the first thing he does is rips it open, dumps the cash out on the bed.”
“So?”
“So I told her that. So she knows he’s gonna do that. Before he gives me the pix. So there isn’t a prayer that could work.”
MacAullif stuck his cigar in his mouth, waggled it back and forth. “So maybe she’s setting you up.”
“Huh?”
“Maybe it’s a setup. Maybe she knows the guy will rip open the envelope. And she sends you there with it anyway. Maybe she’s setting you up.”
“Why? A woman I never met before?”
&
nbsp; MacAullif took the cigar out of his mouth, held it up. “Aha. Not quite true.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You met her the day before. You did a job for her. You paid blackmail money. You bought dirty pictures. You’d done the job, now she’s through with you, she wants to get rid of you, so she sets you up.”
“With the same fucking blackmailer? Tell me how that makes any sense.”
“I don’t know how it makes any sense. Because I don’t know what the facts are. But even without knowing anything, it makes more sense than a leopard changing his spots. Like Sergeant Thurman suddenly grabs five grand out of evidence.”
“I get the point.”
“Do you? Good. Now, why don’t you go home, get some sleep, maybe you’ll start thinking straight. Jesus. Come in here, ask me if a cop’ll take five grand. Some would, sure. But not Thurman. But let me tell you something. You start makin’ noises like he would, you’re gonna piss him off.
“Which would not be wise. He’s still the officer in charge of the case. And it would seem you’re in pretty deep.”
“Not anymore. I got immunity.”
“On the blackmail, yeah. But you gotta remember, you’re dealing with Thurman.”
I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Like I say, you’re in pretty deep.” He shrugged. “I don’t suppose you happened to get immunity on the murder.”
18.
I SLEPT FOR SIXTEEN HOURS. From five o’clock that afternoon till nine the next morning. It was a bit of a shock when I woke up and realized I’d done it. Nine o’clock? That didn’t compute. I’m up at seven o’clock every morning to run Tommie over to the East Side Day School before heading out to work. Today Alice had taken him herself and let me sleep. I recalled that was her announced plan last night—or rather yesterday afternoon—before I passed out. Still, the actuality was a shock. Nine o’clock. How could it be nine o’clock? I ought to be at work.
On the end table, next to the clock radio whose digital readout by now actually said 9:06, was a handwritten note: Take the day off. I recalled this was also part of Alice’s master plan. I would sleep late, she would run Tommie to school, then take the car to New Jersey, shopping. She would be free to take the car because I would not be working.
That was not my plan, that was Alice’s. I had had no sleep, been beaten up and thrown in the drunk tank. After all that I still might have been able to deal with Sergeant Thurman, but I was no match for Alice. If she thought I was taking the day off, I was taking the day off.
