Bear Is Broken (26 page)

I couldn’t tell whether she was kidding. The put-on sophistication
was still there in her voice. This from a girl who’d stuck a Taser in my
neck three days ago. I wondered if she knew about Martha yet, if she’d
shrug off her death as easily as she’d shrugged off Teddy.

“And if the check bounces?” I asked.

“Somehow I don’t think it will come to that.”

I agreed to meet her. I even decided to let her pay.

It hadn’t escaped me that Christine’s last lover had ended up shot.
Right in front of me. Gerald Locke might have ordered it for no
other reason than to keep her away from the son of the woman who’d
been his mistress fifteen years ago, the lover he may have murdered.
He might take the same attitude toward me if I strayed where Teddy
had strayed.

My curiosity was too strong for my caution, though. I had no intention
of sleeping with Christine or of taking her money, but it thrilled
me to think of spending the evening together.

I met her outside the Caltrain station at Fourth and Townsend, a half
hour walk from my apartment. The walk and the darkness did me
good. After a difficult day, there’s no tonic like the fall of darkness,
especially when dusk brings the anticipation of meeting a beautiful
woman.

Christine wore a short black dress with tights, a wide black roundbuckled
belt, a shawl, and flat-heeled shoes. Her hair was back and
her neck was damp with sweat when she kissed me. It must have been
warm on the train. She smelled like shampoo, and she carried a purse
and a small bag that might have been an overnight case. I asked if she
was planning to spend the night at her parents’. She laughed.

The first cab to see us did a U-turn through traffic and rocked to a
halt. I opened the door, Christine slid across, and I followed suit. She
gave the cabbie the name of the restaurant.

My principled resolve crumbled with one casual touch of her hand
on my thigh. Before the cab reached the first stoplight we were kissing.
She had slid down beneath the level of the window. I had one small
breast free and was sucking it while with my free hand I flipped the
elastic of her panties aside. I wanted my tongue between her legs but
thoughts of the cab driver kept me above water.

When we reached the restaurant the driver wouldn’t take the money
from my hand. “Just put it on the seat,” he said angrily. He was Indian or
Pakistani, young but not hip. I threw the twenty on the floor of the cab.
On our way to our table Christine stopped to chat with an older
couple. With nothing more than a toss of the head she’d pulled herself
back together, showing only a slight color in her cheeks. I was sweating
and disheveled, holding her little case in front of my groin.

Before we had even sat down she had ordered a first bottle of wine,
telling the sommelier to open a second and let it breathe. I ordered a
martini with a twist. Only a very skilled bartender can accomplish a
Jeanie martini without producing a drink that is at least one quarter
meltwater. The bartender that night was one of this rare breed. The
gin was just how God made it, about fifty degrees colder than the gin
in the bottle on the shelf. The outside of the glass was frosted.

We were sitting together in a corner, and the tablecloth hung below
our knees. As soon as my napkin was in my lap I felt Christine’s hand
creep underneath it. I pretended to study my menu, watching concentric
ripples widen, then come back together in my gin. Then there
was a pool of spilled gin at the base of my glass.

I cleared my throat and said hoarsely, “The bet was that you could
get me to sleep with you.”

“Now you’re ready to go longer than half a minute.” She withdrew
her hand and let the napkin drop to the floor. “In five minutes I’m
going into the bathroom, and two minutes after that you’ll join me.
Don’t worry, I’ll still pay you.”

“You underestimate me.” I appreciated what she’d just done for me,
but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t have done for myself.

“No, sweetheart. You underestimate yourself.”

The waiter was hovering near the wine rack, and I pointed at my
martini glass. Twenty thousand dollars—a tempting offer, but I was
no gigolo.

She rose and walked off toward the bathroom. I waited. Eventually
I began to tell myself that in just a moment I would go to her, make
nice, ask her to come out. Other diners tried the bathroom door and
were turned back. I couldn’t have sneaked in there now if I’d wanted
to. Another drink, maybe, and I might manage it.

She was gone twenty minutes. When she returned she seemed made
of ice. Our food had arrived, and I’d dug in. I was two martinis and
three glasses of wine to the bad.

The strength of her anger took me by surprise. She didn’t speak,
nor did she touch or even seem to notice her food. She just sat
staring unwaveringly at the table, giving off a charge of violence.
I flinched at each adjustment of her posture. If she could jerk me
off here, she could surely punch me in the nose, slap me in the
face, or shoot me. Then I began worrying she might leave without
paying the bill.

Eventually she reached for her glass. The movement brought a palpable
sense of release. Though we still didn’t talk, we drank together.
I wasn’t a fool. I knew she was going to give me hell.

When she broke her silence there was something new in her
tone, something hard and ominous, something she’d been holding
back. “You still don’t have any idea why Teddy was shot or who
shot him.”

We were drinking cognac. The bill was on the table but I wasn’t
going to touch it. It was probably more than the limit on my credit
card. The place was half-empty, filled with diners lingering over the
dregs of their dessert, sipping strong sweet drinks.

“You lied to me about what was on those videos,” I said.

She shrugged. “Now you know. My offer still stands.”

“I don’t do bathrooms.”

She looked away. “I doubt your apartment’s any bigger.”

“I kind of thought we’d end up at your parents’ place. Isn’t this whole
show tonight for your father’s benefit? You turn up at the restaurant
where your parents’ friends eat, then bring me home, we parade in
arm in arm, straight up to your bedroom? You think everyone in here
hasn’t noticed what’s going on? You think your father won’t soon
know about it?”

“So what if he hears?”

“He’s already accused me of extortion once.”

“My sex life is none of his business.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“And I’m still not sure that you’re not working for him.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but Gerald hates me already. One hand
job more or less isn’t going to make a difference.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“You mean Gerald? Isn’t that his name?”

“Just fucking call him something else.”

“Would you prefer Daddy?”

“What do you want from me, Leo?” Her face twisted. There were
bitter tears in her eyes.

“You promised to set up a meeting with your brother. I think he
knows who shot Teddy. That’s why I’m here. Everything else is just
what happens between then and now.”

“I want those videos. That’s why I’m here.”

“You’re not going to get them. They’re in a safe place, and they’ll
stay there. When this is all over I intend to destroy them. They’ve got
nothing to do with your so-called research, and you’ve got no business
wanting them.”

She pursed her lips and glanced away. “Do you practice talking that
way in the mirror?”

“How’s that?”

“Like you think you’re a tough guy who can turn down any girl he
wants, because he’s always going to have another one coming along?
When was the last time you got laid?”

“What makes you think I’d keep up my end of the bargain?”

“Because you would.” She looked me in the face. “I know I can
trust you.”

“Here’s a tip. In these kinds of situations, take your payment in
advance. Because after the magic is over, all bets are off.”

I wanted her to set up the meeting with Keith but I wasn’t going to
trade those disks for it. “I’m not very good at waiting,” she said. “And
I don’t ever intend to be.”

“You ever happen to see any photographs of your father taken on
the street over in the Sunset, in Golden Gate Park? When Teddy got
shot he was just starting to make notes for a habeas brief that was
going to mention him and include those pictures. Does anything I’m
saying ring a bell?”

She made no acknowledgment or denial. But I realized at that moment
that she knew everything.

“How did you meet Teddy, anyway?”

“Keith introduced us.”

“Did you go after him? Or vice versa? If things just happened between
you two, that’s one thing, but if he came after you and shoved
all this in your face, used it to get in your pants, maybe to get some
kind of revenge, then that’s something completely different.”

She ought to have thrown her drink in my face. She didn’t deserve
the grief I was laying on her, but her feelings were not my primary
consideration. I was beginning to guess that they hadn’t been Teddy’s,
either, and that she had recognized as much. When you’re born rich
and beautiful, real human sympathy comes in far shorter supply than
most people suppose.

“He came after me.” All the anger had drained from her voice.

“About a year ago.”

“Was Teddy involved with Keith in the Green Light?”

“I don’t think so. It was all very mysterious.”

“Do you think your father’s the kind of person who could have had
Teddy shot to keep him from filing that brief?”

A look of panic. “I don’t know.”

“Did you take those videos?”

Her voice was small. “I think Martha must have put the camera in
there.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I met her through my research.
You’re right, she was working for my brother. After they caught Keith
with the body, Martha came to me. She was scared. She was afraid that
the police might try to bring her into it, because of the videos. She
wanted to know what to do with them. I told her to give them to me,
and I gave them to Teddy.”

I nodded, relieved that she was finally coming clean about something.
If she was coming clean. “Here’s how I see it going down. Tell me if
I’m way off. Teddy puts Santorez’s money in the Green Light, figures
he’ll get his investment back in a few months, then return the money
to the account, no problem. He has Car in there looking over Keith’s
shoulder. Then, shortly after the club opens, your professor ends up
dead, either because he forgot the safe word or because he was helping
Martha make home movies on the sly and someone didn’t like
it. The Green Light is the Red Light unless they can make the body
disappear. Keith gets caught dumping Marovich’s body, and the club is
raided and shut down. Then Santorez’s men contact Teddy looking to
make a withdrawal, and all he can tell them is that the money’s gone.”

“Teddy would never have been stupid enough to go into business
with my brother.”

“Tanya,” I said after a pause. “It must have been Tanya.” Who else
knew the combination of the safe? Who else had access to the client
trust account? I remembered what Tanya had said earlier today, that
Teddy had promised her she’d be taken care of; she must have emptied
the trust account and put the money into the Green Light as Keith’s
partner, figuring she could replace the money, that Teddy would never
know. Who else had the acumen to run a prostitution ring and the
audacity to tell Keith to throw a professor’s body in a Dumpster? Who
else might Keith be sufficiently afraid of to obey? That was what the
fight on the stairwell had been about. Teddy had figured out that Tanya
was the one who’d stolen his money. Fix this, Teddy told Car.

I’d drunk far too much. Sweat dripped under my shirt. I was breathless.
I rose from the table, holding out a hand as if to ward off further
revelations, and made my way to the front door of the restaurant
through a darkening tunnel. I reached the sidewalk, breathed the chilly
night air, and blinked the lights of the city back into being as the darkness
receded and my lungs released their clawed grip. I leaned against
the wall of the restaurant, taking breath after breath.

“It was Tanya,” I said when Christine found me outside a few minutes
later. “Tanya stole the money from Santorez right under Teddy’s nose,
and she was Keith’s partner in the Green Light. They lost everything
when Marovich turned up dead. And she must be the one who killed
Martha.” And shot my brother, I couldn’t bring myself to say.

Christine gave a little gasping cry of surprise. “Martha’s dead?”

In bed Christine traced the outline of my Batman tattoo. She was
fascinated by it. I didn’t like her touching it, but I didn’t say anything.
“Poor Martha,” she kept saying drunkenly. “Poor, poor Martha.” All
I could see was the top of her head, a murky fog of hair. “Did you tell
the police about me?” Her voice was dreamy, as if asking a question
so unimportant that she’d already forgotten it.

“No,” I said. I’d already given her a brief account of my interrogation.

“So Tanya shot Teddy and Martha?”

“Maybe not. Or maybe only Martha. I think she stole the money
from the trust account and lost it. If Santorez had him shot, it was Tanya’s
fault, but I don’t think that’s what she intended.” My eyes sprang open
as I remembered that I’d agreed to represent the man.

“So you’re a cyclist,” she said after a pause. “Once again I’ve broken
my resolution not to sleep with any more demented athletes.”

“It keeps me from going crazy.”

“Have you won any races?”

“I don’t enter many. I just like to get out and ride.”

She scoffed. “So you’re one of those people. I should have known.”

I reached down and goosed her. She gave me a tug, and that got
us started again.

Afterward I fell deeply asleep, and I didn’t awaken until the screaming
of the shower pipes started at 8 AM. I lay in bed for a minute, then
got up to join Christine in the shower.