Bad Business (19 page)

K
inergy provided us what they called a liaison executive, a slightly overweight currently blond woman in a dark blue suit named Edith, and put us all into a vacant office. I knew how it came to be vacant. It was Gavin's. Marty had brought two helpers with him. The helpers were women, and good-looking. In the years I'd known Marty, all his helpers had been women, and all of them had been good-looking. It made me wonder sometimes about the nature of the hiring interview.

Marty commandeered the desk that used to be Gavin's. The helpers set up their laptops on a conference table that had been moved in. Marty suggested Adele pull a chair up to the desk and join him. She did. Vinnie headed for the outer office.

“No,” Adele said. “Please, Vinnie. If you could stay.”

Vinnie said, “Sure,” and sat at the end of the
conference table and looked at nothing. Marty smiled at Adele. She smiled back.

“Tell me what you know,” Marty said.

Since my job was simply to ensure compliance, I decided to take a break from the complexities of accounting and went and sat in the outer office at one of the empty secretarial desks. I was a bit big for the armless secretarial chair I was in, but there weren't any others. I put my feet up on the secretarial desk and made do.

I was still there with my feet up and my hands laced comfortably across my stomach about ten minutes later, when Bernie Eisen came in with a couple of other suits he didn't identify.

“What the hell is going on here,” Eisen said to me.

“Audit,” I said.

“Audit?” Bernie said. “An audit? Whose audit? Who's auditing us.”

“Me.”

“You? You? You can't audit us.”

I didn't hear a question there, so I didn't answer it. Eisen looked past me to the inner office.

“Who the hell is he?”

“Marty Siegel,” I said. “World's greatest CPA.”

“Adele and Edith are both in there,” he said.

“True,” I said.

“For God's sake, what is Adele doing in there?”

“Talking to the world's greatest CPA,” I said.

“Get her out of there,” he said to the two suits.

The two suits looked puzzled.

One of them, a sturdy-looking curly-haired guy who reeked of health club, said, “Get her out?”

“Get her out,” Eisen said. “If she won't come, goddamnit, drag her.”

The suits looked even more uncertain.

The health-club guy said, “Bernie, we can't just drag somebody.”

The other suit was balding and tall and looked more like cycling and tennis than health club. He shook his head and kept shaking it.

“God knows what she's telling him,” Bernie said. “I'm getting her out of there.”

“Bernie,” I said. “See the guy at the end of the conference table? The one sort of half asleep looking at the ceiling?”

“What about him?”

“I fear that if you touch her he will shoot you.”

“Shoot?”

“Vinnie is very short-tempered,” I said.

Bernie stared at me for a moment.

Then he said to the health-club suit, “Get security up here.”

“I think you should consult first with your CEO,” I said.

“Coop?”

“The very one.”

Bernie stared at me, then he nodded the cycle/tennis guy toward a phone on the desk beside my crossed ankles.

“Call Coop,” Bernie said.

The suit dialed a number.

“Bernie Eisen,” he said after a moment. “For Bob Cooper.”

He handed the phone to Bernie.

“Coop?” Bernie said after a moment's wait. “Goddamnit, Coop, you got any idea what's going on down here in Gavin's old office?”

Bernie listened silently for a moment.

“Well, I think you need to get down here,” Bernie said.

He listened again.

“No, Coop. Listen to me. You need to come down.”

He listened.

“Okay,” he said and hung up.

I smiled at him. He turned away from me. The two suits stood without purpose near him.

“You guys may as well go back to work,” Bernie said. “Coop and I will deal with this.”

“You want security up here, Bernie?”

“No. Just go ahead back to work.”

Bernie stood and stared in at Adele as if he could somehow impale her on his gaze. We were quiet until Coop swept in.

“Spenser, great to see you,” he said and stuck out his hand.

After I shook it, Coop turned to Bernie and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Bernz,” he said, “I'm sorry. I understand your concern and it's my bad that I didn't give you a heads-up on this.”

“You see Adele in there?” Bernie said.

“Adele is fine. We have nothing to hide here, Bernie, that I know about.”

“Coop,” Bernie said. “That's not the point. We have nothing to gain from this. There's no good in it for us to
have some quite possibly hostile entity rummaging around in the way we conduct our business.”

“Oh, come on, Bernzie. Don't get your knickers all twisted. I welcome any inquiry into any aspect of Kinergy's operations. I believe that the inquiry will simply underscore the fact that we run one of the great companies. And, however unlikely, if there is something amiss, no one wants to know it more than I do.”

“Coop . . .”

“Bernz,” Cooper said, and his tone became a little harder. “I have authorized this audit.”

Eisen took a breath and held it and let it out slowly. Then he turned without a word and walked out. Cooper grinned at me.

“Don't mind Bernie,” he said. “He cares a lot about this company.”

“He cares a lot about something,” I said.

Coop grinned harder.

“Anything you need,” he said, “you just let Edith know. And if there's any problems, send them straight to me.”

“Right,” I said.

Coop was so enthusiastic it was easy to forget that he was being blackmailed into this.

S
usan joined us for dinner at the new Davio's in Park Square.

“Did you see that man follow us back from Kinergy?” Adele said.

Vinnie nodded.

“Did you see Hawk?”

Vinnie shook his head.

“How do you know he's there?” Adele said.

Susan smiled.

“He's there,” Vinnie said.

“But how do you know?”

“We know,” Vinnie said.

“We do?”

Vinnie nodded at me.

“Him and me know.”

Adele looked at Susan. “What is this?” she said. “Some sort of secret society?”

“Yes,” Susan said. “That's exactly what it is. Full of unsaid rules and regulations which none of them will even admit to knowing.”

“Is it just the three of them?” Adele said.

“No,” Susan said.

She looked at me.

“Who else is a member?” she said.

“This is your hypothesis,” I said.

“Okay,” Susan said. “Well, there's some cops. Quirk, Belson, a detective named Lee Farrell; the state police person, Healy.”

Susan took a ladylike slug of her Cosmopolitan.

“And a man named Chollo from Los Angeles, and a man named Tedi Sapp from Georgia. Anybody else?”

“Bobby Horse,” I said.

“Oh, yes,” Susan said, “the Native American gentleman.”

“Kiowa,” I said.

“Kiowa, of course,” Susan said.

“Little dude from Vegas,” Vinnie said.

“Bernard J. Fortunato,” I said.

“See,” Susan said, “if you lull them into it they'll admit to the existence.”

“And what are you,” Adele said, “that you know all this, den mother?”

Susan laughed and had a little more of her pink drink.

“I'm scoring the club president,” she said. “Gives me special status.”

“So why are they so certain that Hawk is where he said he'd be?”

“Because he's like they are,” Susan said.

“And they'd be there?”

“If they said so.”

“And,” she nodded at me, “does he ever tell you why they're all like that?”

“They don't know they're like that,” Susan said.

“What do you two think of what she's just described?” Adele said.

“I think I'll have some linguine,” I said.

“Veal looks nice,” Vinnie said.

“Don't even bother,” Susan said.

Adele took a long breath. Susan was glancing around the room, and her glance stopped and rested.

“Excuse me, there's two people I really want to see.”

She got up and walked two tables down from us where a slim dark-haired man was having dinner with a slick-looking woman. Susan kissed them both, and spoke with them in high animation. Susan in high animation is like watching a big-screen re-release of
Gone with the Wind
: all the color, all the drama, all the excitement. Adele and I watched her. I was drinking beer. Adele and Vinnie were sharing a bottle of red bordeaux. Vinnie wasn't watching her. Even as he sipped his wine Vinnie was looking at everyone.

When Susan came back to the table, I said, “Who's that guy you were kissing?”

“Tony Pangaro,” Susan said. “I'm surprised you don't know him. He's been involved in every major real estate development east of the Mississippi River since the Spanish American War.”

“Gee,” I said. “He doesn't look that old.”

“Exaggeration for effect,” Susan said.

“Fair's fair,” I said. “Can I go kiss his date?”

“No.”

We ordered dinner. Vinnie ordered another bottle of wine.

“Marty tells me the audit is progressing,” I said to Adele.

“Yes. He seems like such a smart guy.”

“He said you've been very valuable.”

“Good,” she said. “I'm glad. He's awfully nice.”

“In a sort of sharkish kind of way,” I said.

“Sharkish?”

“Exaggeration for effect,” I said.

Vinnie sampled the second bottle of bordeaux and nodded and the waiter poured some for each of us.

“Now that the whistle has been blown,” I said to Adele, “and the audit's under way, there really isn't any danger to you anymore.”

“Oh, no, I still want to stay at your place,” she said.

“There's no reason for anyone to kill you,” I said. “Unlike Gavin, if that's what happened, it's too late to prevent you from talking.”

“Please,” Adele said. “If I move back home, at least let Vinnie stay with me for a while longer.”

“That would be up to Vinnie,” I said.

All three of us looked at Vinnie. He was drinking some wine. He finished, put the glass down, and shrugged.

“Sure,” he said.

Adele looked at Susan.

“Do you think it will be all right?”

“If he says it will be all right,” Susan said, “it will be all right.”

Adele nodded slowly, looking at Vinnie.

“Susan,” she said, “you sound like the rest of them.”

“She is,” I said. “Wait'll she shows you the secret handshake.”

H
awk showed up in my office just before noon with several sandwiches in a bag. He took one out and handed it to me.

“Six grams of fat,” he said. “I figure, I eat enough of these and I get to do one of those commercials.”

“Hawk,” I said. “You were born with two percent body fat, and you've trimmed down since.”

“So we lie to them.”

“We?”

“I thought you might want to get in on it,” Hawk said.

“I'll eat a couple and see if my belt feels loose.”

“How 'bout coffee,” Hawk said.

“I made a fresh pot,” I said.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Be fine,” Hawk said.

I poured us two cups and opened one of the sandwiches.

“Long Hair's name is Lance Devaney,” Hawk said.

“Lance Devaney?”

“What it say under his doorbell.”

“I bet he wasn't always Lance Devaney,” I said.

“Probably not,” Hawk said. “He lives in the South End, on West Newton Street.”

My sandwich was pretty good. I ate some more of it.

“Two-unit town house,” Hawk said.

“That so?” I said.

I had known Hawk too long. He was building to something.

“Doorbell on the other unit say Darrin O'Mara.”

Hawk never showed anything, but something in the way he sat back a little and took a bite of his sandwich spoke of self-satisfaction.

“Darrin O'Mara,” I said.

“Un-huh. So I stick around outside there and I wait and, you know, O'Mara got that seven-to-midnight talk show, so about two-twenty in the morning here he come, lippity lop.”

“Lippity lop?”

“Authentic African argot,” Hawk said. “I is trying to educate you.”

“Lippity lop.”

“Yeah, and in he goes right next door to Lance.”

“Now that I think of it, I wonder what name Darrin O'Mara was born with,” I said.

“I stuck around for maybe another hour and no sign of life so I moseyed on home.”

“Not lippity lop?”

“I mosey,” Hawk said.

“Of course.”

I picked up my phone and dialed Rita Fiore.

“Could a paralegal get me the owner's name at a couple addresses in the South End?” I said.

“If I tell him to,” Rita said.

I asked Hawk the address.

“Both units?” he said.

“Both.”

He gave them to me and I told Rita.

“Who are you talking to?” Rita said.

“Hawk.”

“Hawk is right there with you?”

“Yes.”

“Oooh!” Rita said.

“Oooh?” I said. “Among criminal lawyers you are generally considered the queen piranha. And I mention Hawk and you say ‘oooh!'?”

“I am still in touch with my girlish side,” Rita said. “I'll call you back. Please tell Hawk
kiss kiss
for me.”

I hung up. Hawk was unwrapping a second sandwich.

“Wow,” I said. “You look slimmer already. Rita says to tell you
kiss kiss
!”

Hawk smiled as if to himself.

“Have you and Rita ever . . . ?”

Hawk looked at me blankly. I didn't pursue it, because the phone rang. I picked it up.

“So quick?” I said.

“So quick what?” Healy said.

“Sorry, I was expecting someone else.”

“I found the missing private eyes,” Healy said.

“In Tulsa?”

“Yep. Gavin arranged for them to get security jobs at Tulsa Kinergy. A Tulsa detective talked with them. They admit the jobs seem like a boondoggle.”

“They shed any light on anything else?”

“Not yet. Tulsa's going to talk with them some more, and let me know.”

“And you, grateful for my help, will, of course, let me know.”

“If I'm not so grateful I choke up,” Healy said and broke the connection.

“The missing private eyes,” I said to Hawk. “Being overpaid and underworked at the Kinergy Tulsa facility.”

“Gavin arrange that?”

“I guess he made them an offer too good to refuse.”

“Wanted them out of town.”

“I assume,” I said. “So we wouldn't find out he'd hired them to spy for him.”

“And he done that why?” Hawk said.

“My guess is he got wind of the wife-swapping sex stuff that was going on with O'Mara and was trying to find out what was going on so he could protect Cooper.”

“Maybe Gavin not so bad a guy,” Hawk said.

“Maybe.”

We drank some more coffee. Yesterday's fresh coffee isn't as good as today's fresh coffee, but it is far, far better than no coffee.

“I am only a simple hooligan,” Hawk said, “and you the detective. But I notice every time we run down some sort of lead it connect us to O'Mara.”

“Keep thinking like that,” I said, “and maybe you can be a detective.”

This time when the phone rang it was Rita.

“The two town houses on West Newton Street,” Rita said, “are both owned by Darrin O'Mara.”

“Any mention of anyone named Lance Devaney?”

“Lance Devaney?”

“Um-hm.”

“Of course not,” Rita said.

“Okay,” I said. “Hawk says
kiss kiss
!”

“You're lying to me,” Rita said.

“Yes, I am,” I said. “But with the best of intentions.”

She hung up.

“O'Mara owns both units,” I said to Hawk.

Hawk slid into a British public school accent.

“By God, Holmes,” he said. “This bears looking into.”

“It do,” I said. “Perhaps you could stay on Lance Devaney for a while longer.”

Hawk stayed with his Holmesian accent.

“Be interesting,” he said, “to establish the precise nature of their relationship.”

“You're thinking they might be more than friends?”

“Happens sometimes,” Hawk said.

“Happens quite often,” I said, “in the South End.”

“Be kind of cute,” Hawk said, “champion of courtly romance turns out to be Oscar Wilde.”

“All kinds of love,” I said.

“For sure,” Hawk said. “And what do you think happens to
Matters of the Heart
if O'Mara turns out to be homosexual?”

“Might broaden his audience base,” I said.

“Might.”

“Or everything might go right into the tank,” I said.

“Might.”

“Why don't you look into it,” I said.

“I believe I will,” Hawk said.