Authors: Gene Grossman
I love it when a plan gets figured out so neatly. There’s no disagreement from my associate, so the theory must be correct. To avoid waking the dog, I make an effort to quietly call Myra because I want to give her the new information about my recently confirmed theory. I get through to her and lay it all out. She now has all the pieces of the puzzle together, so all we have to do is get Rosenbaum and the case can be closed out. Boy, I’m good.
Stuart calls. He’s bored. His Small Claims Court business is going fine and because he hired some people to make appearances, he doesn’t have to work on it anymore. His used car business is going well, with several Toyota and Honda dealers buying almost everything he can bring in from Billy Z. Vinnie and Olive are now running his armored truck service and the sale of that weight control junk, so that’s another responsibility off of his shoulders, and he’s looking for something else to do.
I don’t have any suggestions for him other than to make better use of Jack’s talents as an investigator. There’s a lot of insurance fraud going on out there, and defense law firms like Indovine’s are always looking for good investigators to trap phony claimants. He says he’ll think about it.
Most of the time the wheels of justice turn pretty slow, but with Myra’s hand on the crank they spin a lot faster. I get word from the District Attorney’s office that Myra went to the Grand Jury and got a murder indictment against Alan Rosenbaum. She also had Joe Morgan released and delivered to Mister Berland’s custody in Hidden Hills. Pictures of Alan Rosenbaum the way he probably looks now have been distributed to the local police agencies, and a statewide search is being conducted to find him. Wisely, Myra has held back on releasing the picture to the press, so that Eaton can be kept off guard until Rosenbaum is picked up.
My work is done for the day, so I call Berland to invite myself out to his mansion for an afternoon catered lunch. The last time I was there I noticed that he has a full time cook in the house, so I figure there’ll always be something good to eat.
Joe Morgan is confused about something. He tells us that each of the first two Suburbans was towed back to his service bay for inspection and repairs. While going through them, he made a note of the mileage and also removed some extra wires that had been connected to each vehicle’s odometer device.
He also noted that each of the first two vehicles had been driven the exact same number of miles before it exploded. This is a very strange coincidence, so I have Berland tell me exactly what his wife and daughter had planned for the day of their accident.
He explains that he had their driver drop his wife off at a friend’s house, where she met with her weekly book group to discuss something they all recently read. His daughter was supposed to pick up her Suburban at the dealership where it had just been serviced, then pick up her mother. There was an inquiry from Las Vegas about demolition of an old hotel scheduled to be replaced, so they were both planning on taking a ride up there to get details so that a bid for the demolition could be put in. I ask him for the address where his wife’s book club met and then drive over to the dealership.
With the exact mileage now known for the pre-explosion trips of the first two vehicles, I want to follow Nancy Eaton’s driving path on the day of the accident and see how far she would have gotten if allowed to go that amount of miles.
The dealership’s assistant manager lent me Nancy’s Suburban that morning so that I could drive around to the same places that the first two owners went. What I want to do now is complete Nancy’s trip by driving those extra miles, to make up for the ones that were deducted by my earlier use of the vehicle. I want to see how far she would have gotten if I hadn’t used her car that morning.
The first two Suburbans didn’t explode on the same day they were serviced because it took several days for each of them to accumulate the number of miles required for the explosive charges to go off.
On the day that I borrowed Nancy’s Suburban, I only drove the routes that I was aware of, not knowing if any other driver of those vehicles put extra mileage on it. Today, I’m going from the dealership straight to where Mrs. Berland’s book club met, and then right back to the freeway and towards Las Vegas. I’ll drive the exact same number of miles as the other two Suburbans and that way I might be able to see where Eaton planned on having the explosion take place.
After about an hour of negotiating the traffic I get past the place where the accident took place and continue to the 405 Freeway, northbound. Berland told me that they were planning on taking the ‘back way’ to Vegas, so I drive that route until my odometer reads the same number of miles that all three Suburbans registered. I look around and don’t see anything other than a deep rock quarry off to the left side of the road. We had an especially long rainy season this year, and the bottom of the quarry is filled in to create a small lake that’s probably twenty feet deep.
When I first figured out what Eaton’s plan might be I felt guilty that my use of her vehicle that day used up valuable miles on her odometer. If I hadn’t done that, maybe she would have had that explosion in some place where the car’s swerving might not have been fatal.
Now, seeing where Eaton obviously planned for the explosion to take place, I can see that all I did was make the accident happen sooner. The same results would have been there, but if it happened out here, there’s a good chance that we might not discover it for months, if ever.
Thinking back, now I understand why Eaton was so mad at his assistant manager for letting me borrow that vehicle. If not for the fact that it ultimately went off of Mulholland Drive, his plan might have failed completely, with just a minor traffic collision. That would have been a tremendous inconvenience to him, because he probably already had Rosenbaum kill Kupchic, so there would be no one left to rig her vehicle a second time.
Back at the boat, I think I hear a small crowd gathering out on the dock. It must be haircut day. Once every month or so, the kid gives Bernie a touch-up trim. She can’t reach the top of his head, so after she gets him to sit down, she stands on a milk crate and uses her Flowbee with a vacuum attachment to give his fur an always-needed trimming. It’s really an amazing device. First, you adjust the length that you want the hair to remain. Then you plug in the Flowbee, turn on its vacuum attachment, and gently pass it over whatever hairy surface you want to trim. She also has some battery-operated flea-killing comb that she passes over him a couple of times. It’s something she ordered from the Sharper Image catalog.
There aren’t many adults on the dock who request a Flowbee trim, but when people in the adjoining apartment buildings see her start to trim Bernie, they all send their kids down for a Flowbee freebie. The kids love it because not only do they get their locks trimmed, they also get to hang onto Bernie.
*****
Chapter 16
The messenger service is here again and this time it’s with attorney Larkin’s answer to the Interrogs I sent to his office. Opening the package disappoints me. Not only did they answer every question without objection, they dotted each i and crossed each t. Damn them. Now I have no reason to drag them into court with objections and I’ve lost a good stall tactic.
Our office already filed my Answer with the court, so they have no chance at a default judgment. I’m going to have to think of some way to stall this case until Myra’s people grab Rosenbaum. I guess the best way is to schedule a deposition, so I instruct our office to start the subpoena process.
The phone rings. It’s Socrates Gutsue and he’s not happy. The Probate Court is moving ahead and pretty soon it’s going to be judgment day, when we have to appear and Mister Berland will have to deposit a huge some of money with the court so that they can distribute it per the instructions in his late wife’s will. Eaton will become wealthy and disappear, and Berland will be out several million dollars. I can’t let this happen, but until Rosenbaum is caught, there’s not much I can do.
The kid comes out of her domain and picks up Eaton’s Interrog answers. I don’t have the slightest idea what she wants with them, but since they didn’t give me any information that would help me, I don’t care what happens to that pile of paper. She’ll probably go through every answer, in an attempt to build up her billable hours.
Myra’s office sends an email putting me on notice that the Grand Jury murder indictment they have against Rosenbaum is not a perpetual thing, and that if they don’t apprehend him before this Grand Jury’s term expires, they’ll have to pick up Joe Morgan again. They obviously don’t want to be without someone to blame the murders on.
From the looks of things, the clock is now ticking again. If I don’t come up with something soon, Eaton will get away with murder, and a lot of money.
It’s not over yet. Another messenger is knocking on the hull with a thick package from Larkin’s office. Opening it up, I see the most extensive set of Interrogatories and Request for Admissions I’ve ever seen. If I don’t figure out some way to end this mess soon, I’ll be forced to hire the kid for the better part of a full week to organize the answers this jerk wants. I see that a lot of those questions pertain to the value of our boat, so he’s obviously going for punitive damages and wants to know everything I’ve got so he can go after it. I’m sure that when the kid sees that they’ve got their eyes on the boat, she’ll become more motivated to do them in.
I think we’ll be having a big dinner tonight. Of course nobody’s said anything to me yet, but the crowd is growing by the hour. First it was Jack, who spent some time with the princess in a counseling session, probably due to his loss of consortium with Miss Piggy. Then it was Vinnie and Olive, probably here for marriage therapy. Now Stuart is in there, no doubt getting helped with his correspondence law school homework. I wish there was some way that I could make an appointment to get in there and be told how to find Alan Rosenbaum.
There’s another knock at the hull. Vinnie goes to see who it is and invites our new visitor aboard. It’s Victor, and while he’s here to pick something up from Suzi, he gets invited to stay for dinner too.
As long as it’s going to be a party, I might as well have a date, so I send a dogmail message to Laverne, inviting her to join us and bring a large can of her favorite wine. After a strenuous evening of conversation I’ll probably spend the night on her houseboat, so she might as well be here to walk back with me. I intend to have an extra few drinks with dinner and Laverne will be my guide back to her place.
The phone rings. It’s Mister Berland calling to see if there are any new developments on the case. After I make my no-news report, he asks about the noise he hears in the background. I tell him that there are about nine or ten of us getting ready to have dinner in an hour or so. He asks if he can join us.
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Sure, Mister Berland, it would be our pleasure to have you here with us, but you’re supposed to be a full-time babysitter with your guest. Remember? The D.A. doesn’t want him left alone.”
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Well, Peter, then why don’t you all come out here? My chef can whip up a gourmet meal for all of us. And if it makes matters any easier, I’ll send two stretch limos for all of you, so no designated driver will be necessary. And I’ll bet my wine cellar is better than yours.”
I tell the group about Berland’s invitation and they all think it would be fun to go out there in the limos. Laverne, having been informed that she may be going to a location where there’s a genuine wine cellar, makes the final decision for all of us. I tell Berland to send the limos and Suzi calls to cancel the Asian boys’ delivery. She also calls Myra to invite her along, but being the pro that she is, Myra respectfully declines, explaining to the kid that it really wouldn’t be proper for her to be at a dinner party with a person who she has a current file against. Too bad, but she’s right.
The evening is a success. July is a hot month in most of the country, and especially so in the west San Fernando Valley where Hidden Hills is situated. By the time that the limos get us all there, the sun has already set, so the stifling heat is gone, and we decide to dine outdoors between the huge swimming pool and the large brick barbeque, where Berland’s chef is preparing charcoal broiled swordfish and spare ribs. There’s also no shortage of side dishes.
The food is great, the conversation is interesting, and Berland has two large German shepherd guard dogs, so Bernie has some new friends. They’re are on their best behavior with everyone at the dinner party, but I’m sure they can be a force to reckon with for any uninvited guest.
The limos bring us all back to the Marina, Suzi has a large doggie bag, and I’m going for a backrub and whatever other options are available at casa Laverne.
The sun is shining and I’m finishing up my last slice of greasy French toast. The houseboat rocks a little as the dogmail carrier steps aboard with a note for me. It’s a message that came in from Socrates Gutsue’s office, putting us on notice that we only have another day or two to either get the goods on Eaton or let him have his inheritance.
I’ve always hated working against a ticking clock, but this time there’s nothing I can do about it. I make my usual morning call to Myra’s office to learn whether or not there’s any progress in finding Rosenbaum. The probate court date is rapidly approaching and I can already feel those huge checks slipping out of my hand.