Highway 61 (22 page)

“You are well?” Muehlenhaus asked.

“Very well, sir,” I said.

“And the lovely Ms. Truhler? I must say that is a stunning dress she is wearing.”

I didn’t know he saw her; certainly I never saw him.

“She is quite well, too,” I said. “Yourself?”

“I am getting old, Mr. McKenzie.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“These days I feel I am getting older than most. Somehow, I do not believe Mr. Moncur’s recipe for longevity will help me.”

“I don’t think Moncur’s recipe will help anyone.”

Muehlenhaus chuckled at that.

“No, I suppose not,” he said.

“Personally, I wouldn’t want to live forever,” I said.

“That is because you are a young man. As you get older, your opinion will change.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t intend to worry about it. What is it they say? Only the good die young?”

For the first time since I’d known him, I heard Muehlenhaus laugh. He laughed until he coughed into his hand.

“In that case I shall live forever,” he said. Muehlenhaus turned in his chair to look at me. The lenses in his eyeglasses had been polished until they reflected light like a mirror. “So will you.”

The remark reminded me of something Muehlenhaus once said, which I’m sure was his intention—that he and I were very much alike, that we both did favors for friends. He insisted that if there was a difference between us it was merely at the level on which we granted our favors. I resented the accusation, yet I wasn’t entirely sure it was untrue.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Muehlenhaus?” I asked.

Before he could answer, there was a soft rap on the door. The man who had first summoned me held it open. A woman brushed past him, and he closed the door behind her. I guessed the woman’s age at about fifty despite her obvious attempts to confuse the issue. She was dressed in a long black skirt, a cranberry-colored lace top with velvet and chiffon trim, and a black blazer. She looked like someone whose skin was stretched too tight; she didn’t have a single wrinkle anywhere, not even when she smiled, which she was doing now.

“Walter,” she cooed. She moved quickly across the room to Muehlenhaus’s side. She hugged his shoulder. “It is so good to see you again.”

Muehlenhaus looked at me with an expression that suggested he was embarrassed by the display.

“Have you met Mr. McKenzie?” he asked her. “Rushmore McKenzie, this is Roberta Weltzin.”

“The famous Rushmore McKenzie,” she said.

She walked straight up to me, her hand extended. I shook her hand.

“The famous Roberta Weltzin,” I said. I nearly said “infamous.” I nearly asked her how the Web site was doing. I nearly said a lot of things that I shouldn’t have. Suddenly it all seemed much clearer to me.

Muehlenhaus rose from his chair facing the fire and directed us to a trio of wingbacks near the center of the room that seemed as if they had already been arranged for our comfort. I was distressed to note how thin Muehlenhaus had become and how shaky his movements were. Make no mistake; I didn’t like the man—well, maybe I did a little. In any case, I did not wish him ill.

Muehlenhaus was the first to speak after we were seated.

“Once again, Mr. McKenzie, it seems our interests coincide,” he said.

“In what way?” I asked.

“I believe you are searching for a young lady named Vicki Walsh.”

I stared into Roberta’s surgically altered face when I replied.

“It is my understanding that she’s dead.”

“Then why are you looking for her?” Roberta asked.

“I am doing a favor for a friend.”

“Jason Truhler,” Muehlenhaus said.

I wasn’t surprised that Muehlenhaus knew my business; he knew everyone’s business. I just couldn’t imagine why he cared.

“Do you have a relationship with Jason Truhler?” I asked him.

“Mr. Truhler is a small man,” Muehlenhaus said. “I have no dealings with him. He does, however, have dealings with others of my acquaintance. I believe that he often caters to their baser tastes.”

“I know just how he caters to them, too.”

Muehlenhaus must have heard something in my voice, because he said, “It would seem that neither of us is fond of Mr. Truhler.”

“Why are you helping him, then?” Roberta asked.

I didn’t answer. Muehlenhaus knew my reasons. That’s why he asked me to invite Nina to the party, because he knew, and because he wanted to exert pressure on me without seeming to. A subtle man, was our Mr. Muehlenhaus.

“Mr. McKenzie,” Muehlenhaus said. “Would it be accurate to say that Ms. Walsh is blackmailing Mr. Truhler and that you have been asked to intervene?”

“Someone is blackmailing Truhler,” I said. “I don’t know for certain that it’s Vicki.”

“Mr. Truhler is not alone. Others have also been victimized. Ms. Weltzin?”

“McKenzie, I am engaged in…”

Roberta paused as if she were searching for just the right word to describe her business in the most positive light. I didn’t give her the opportunity.

“I know what you do for a living,” I said.

The sound of my voice caused her to flinch.

“I make no apologies,” she said.

“I wouldn’t listen to them anyway.” I turned toward Muehlenhaus. “Why am I here?”

Muehlenhaus gestured back toward Roberta with the flat of his hand.

“Someone hacked my computer,” she said. “They downloaded all of my files onto a flash drive, not only those files identifying my girls, but accounting and customer files as well. Since then many of my clients have been systematically blackmailed.”

“How many clients?”

“Seven that I know of so far. However, another regular had ceased utilizing our services at the same time, so I suspect that he is being blackmailed as well.”

“For how much?”

“Is that important?”

“Ninety-nine eighty a month?”

“How did—”

“That’s her MO,” I said.

I did some quick calculating. Assuming she started extorting her victims in July and had already made her collections for November, Vicki was sitting on approximately four hundred thousand dollars. I turned back to Muehlenhaus.

“Does this involve the governor?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” Roberta asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“McKenzie does his favors only for his friends,” Muehlenhaus said. “The rest of us can go to Hades.”

Roberta hesitated as if she were weighing which answer would give her the greatest advantage. I knew it. So did Muehlenhaus.

“The truth, now,” he said.

“No, it doesn’t involve the governor,” Roberta said.

I was glad to hear it.

“It does, however, involve a great many other prominent citizens,” Muehlenhaus said. “This includes supporters of the governor as well as members of his administration.”

“Fuck ’em,” I said.

“Mr. McKenzie…”

“These are men who paid money for the opportunity to abuse children,” I said. “Young women they wanted to pretend were children—yes, Roberta, I know all about your rules involving birth certificates. Honest to God, Mr. Muehlenhaus, I cannot imagine why you of all people would want to protect these bastards.”

“The truth is, these men are the ones who are being abused,” Roberta said. “Abused by children, if you like. Abused for money.”

“If anyone can appreciate the irony, I’d think it would be you.”

“No one is being forced to do anything they don’t want to do. Everything that occurs is between consenting adults. The girls come and go as they please. I care about these girls. I take care of them. They know the choice is always theirs.”

“No crime, no foul, is that it?”

“That’s it.”

“Then why is everyone so afraid of being outed?”

“I do not believe we are accomplishing as much as we could,” Muehlenhaus said. “Would either of you enjoy a drink?”

“No, thank you,” I said.

Roberta shook her head.

“Mr. McKenzie,” Muehlenhaus said. “I do not entirely disagree with your position. However, there is much that can be lost if these attempts at extortion are not thoroughly dealt with in as quiet a manner as possible. You hold the position that these gentlemen are, what is the phrase, getting what is coming to them. It is difficult to argue against such a position. However, I am sure you do not wish to see repeated the sad case of Mr. Charles Kruger. Charles was both a friend and colleague of mine. He committed suicide a year ago after paying nearly five hundred thousand dollars to keep secret sexually explicit photographs taken of himself and a prostitute. He was not the only victim, either. Before he took his life, Charles composed a letter in which he stated that he was doing what was best for his family. All these men have families. You know this. That is why you are assisting Mr. Truhler, is it not? To protect those nearest to him? You mention the governor, whom I know you hold in high regard. Should we allow his reputation to be tarnished, his political aspirations to be compromised, by the behavior of men over whom he has no control? So many others as well, innocent men and women who will suffer should these activities come to light. Children, too. Ms. Truhler has a daughter, does she not? Certainly you have considered her well-being.”

“God, you’re good,” I said.

Muehlenhaus smiled at me. “We have always understood each other,” he said.

“What would you have me do?”

“Find Ms. Walsh.”

“How do you know she’s behind the extortion?”

“I didn’t,” Roberta said. “From what my clients told me, I was under the impression they were being blackmailed by two young men, a black man and a white man. That was until I discovered that Vicki was alive. Up until then I thought she had been killed in Thunder Bay. I thought the blackmailers were the people who had killed her, that somehow they forced her to download my files and then killed her for it. I realize now that she downloaded the files herself before she went to Canada and staged her murder as a way of deflecting suspicion.”

“Who told you that she had been killed?” I asked. “Jason?”

She nodded.

“And you did nothing about it,” I said. “Tell me again how much you care about your girls.”

Roberta cast a sideways glance at Muehlenhaus, but said nothing.

“How did you know that Vicki was still alive?” I asked. “Oh, wait. Truhler again.”

“Yes.”

Why are you helping this guy?
my inner voice asked for the fiftieth or sixtieth time.

“What have you done to find her?” I asked aloud.

“I asked my girls if anyone has seen or heard from her, but no one has,” Roberta said. “Beyond that I hired…”

“Hired who?”

“Two men who used to work for me. I fired them originally because they didn’t have the right attitude for my kind of operation. However, in this matter…”

I covered my face with my hands and spoke into them.

“Oh my God, she hired the Joes,” I said.

I took my hands from my face and leaned toward Roberta.

“You hired the Joes,” I said.

She nodded.

“Lady, the Joes are nut jobs,” I said. “They’re certifiable. Didn’t you figure that out the first time they worked for you?”

“How do you know so much about my business?”

I heard Muehlenhaus chuckle.

“Do the Joes know what’s on the flash drive?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Roberta, what were you thinking? Forget Vicki Walsh. If these guys get their hands on the flash drive, on all those files, all hell will break loose. How can you not know that?”

“I was desperate. Clients were contacting me. They were threatening me with jail and worse. I had to do something.”

“Unhire them. Make them go away.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“You can try, can’t you?”

“I can try, but they are very difficult men.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Besides, I need help.”

“Perhaps something can be arranged,” Mr. Muehlenhaus said.

All right, all right, all right,
my inner voice chanted.
It is what it is. Where do we go from here?

“What’s the deal with Vicki Walsh?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Roberta asked.

“What can I offer her?”

“Immunity,” Muehlenhaus said.

“Immunity?” Roberta echoed.

“Yes,” Muehlenhaus said. His voice left no doubt. “If she ceases her activities, if she returns the stolen property, if she leaves never to return. In exchange, she will be allowed to keep the money she has extorted, her freedom, and—Mr. McKenzie, she must be made to understand that the people who have threatened Ms. Weltzin, who would very much like to find Ms. Walsh themselves, are not to be trifled with. You and I both know that there are men in positions of power in this city, in this state, who can and will do anything to protect their positions. Ms. Walsh must return the flash drive and agree to disappear.”

“In that event, will you guarantee her safety?” I asked.

“You have my word.”

I regarded Roberta Weltzin for a moment. I didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her, but Mr. Muehlenhaus—come to think about it, I didn’t entirely trust him, either.

“When I speak to Vicki, I’ll deliver your message,” I said.

I rose from the chair and headed for the door of the library.

“Wait,” Roberta said. “Do you know where Vicki is?”

“No. I know how to find her, though. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a drink.”

“I could offer you a snifter of Mr. Moncur’s excellent brandy,” Muehlenhaus said.

“Thank you, sir. However, at the risk of being blunt, I don’t like the company you keep.”

From the expression on her face, it was obvious that Roberta didn’t like the remark at all. Then again, she wasn’t supposed to.

*   *   *

I stopped in the doorway to the foyer and took it all in. The crowd had thinned considerably, most guests having already headed off to the charity fund-raiser. Nina was standing near the center of the room conversing with a group that included Lindsey and John Barrett. I studied her for a moment, marveling at just how beautiful she was. Black hair, high cheekbones, narrow nose, generous mouth, curves that would impress a Formula One racer—and those eyes, the most startling pale blue eyes I had ever seen made even more luminous by the rich blue of her gown. It was the eyes that caused me to notice her when she served me a club sandwich at the downstairs bar at Rickie’s nearly three years ago. I had followed a suspect there. I nearly lost him because of those eyes.