Cafe Underground Presents
Andi was back in their office at nine the next morning to beat at the rising mound in her pending box. She tossed the contract Armando rewrote on Lena's table with a note to consider the changes and actively ignored it.
At nine-thirty she risked giving him a call, the phone rang seven times before his machine clicked on. The delay was enough to evoke a concern that he'd turn up like Jimmy, but he picked up immediately when he heard her voice leaving a message.
"I'm here Ms. Wicksham. We still on for ten?"
"Where?" Andi responded tersely, she'd decided to set a tone of demanding impatience from the outset. She needed to get information from him today, not riddles.
"Here or anywhere. Your office?" Armando countered immediately, his voice sounded relaxed.
Andi glanced across their work clutter. "How much privacy do you want?" Left to herself she'd choose another venue, one more sympathetic to casual talk, but how he'd choose to stage this would tell something about him.
"I'll pick you up. We can talk as I drive. OK?" He was as cheerful as a hot dog vender on the Fourth of July.
Driving around--an interesting choice. "What do you drive?" Some people spend half their working lives in cars, she wondered if he was one of them.
"A maroon Toyota pickup."
"Fine," Andi responded curtly, she remembered him following her to meet Ramirez yesterday. "I'll be downstairs at ten." She glanced at her watch.
"At the address on your card?" he asked politely.
"Fine." repeated Andi. She suddenly wanted to off the phone and away from Armando. Her wish was granted; he hung up without another word and she was left trying to find a downbeat in the dial tone.
"Still don't know what he's after?" Lena spun around in her chair and tossed another two inch pile of files into Andi's pending box.
"No." Andi glanced at her watch and kept her head down. Her hand snuck out to snag a file. She might get three reviewed if she focused.
"Given any thought to our vacation?" Lena interrupted. She'd tactfully pressed the issue over the last months, rationing maybe three direct questions a week that Andi’d been able to shrug a reply to, but comfortable wriggle room was running short.
"How about Victoria and Vancouver?" Andi threw the names out as a stop-gap to avoid admitting she hadn’t given it thought.
"Canada. I like that. I haven't been north in six...seven years." Lena graced the northeast corner of the ceiling with an ethereal gaze, as if it was a door to the past. She was nothing if not shrewd, she let the process unfold. It took a subtle touch at manipulation to know when to leave well enough alone.
Andi pursed her lips, cursing her flippant answer, she’d been tricked into making a choice. It would be hard to back out without offering a alternative. She snuck a peek at Lena’s work--words appeared line after line to a hail-storm finger taps on the keyboard. How could they take a vacation? Their jobs overlapped and they were at the whim of outside forces.
Lena stopped to answer the phone.
Andi kept her nose against the grindstone until two minutes to ten. Then, with a quick "Sayonara" she slipped through the door to find Armando parked three spaces down, the windows of his mid-sized pickup with an extended cab rolled down, the radio blaring and his feet propped up on the dash.
"Waiting long?" Andi yelled conversationally as she pulled the passenger door open and slipped into the Toyota's bucket seat. There were two small seats set behind, cup holders, brocade headliner, a exquisite stereo pumping salsa jazz with amazing clarity and what seemed to be a dashboard of exotic wood. There weren't many options neglected when the truck was tricked out, a goodly selection of maps were tucked into pockets on either door. It was a contrast from the drab mediocrity of his apartment.
"Just a minute. I poked upstairs to see where you work, but figured you didn't need to be disturbed." He pulled his feet from the dash, turned the key and pulled out almost in a single movement, clicking in his seatbelt after heading off.
"Oh." said Andi, suddenly at a loss for a response. She fumbled over her shoulder for the belt trying to decide whether looking to find their office, but not knocking was discrete or sneaky. "Mind turning down the music?"
Armando punched the volume knob and the he music stopped mid-phrase. He glanced over. "I'll tell you about what we need..."
"We?" asked Andi.
"That's me as far as your needs go, but other people work for the non-profit."
Andi ground her molars. "What's the issue?"
"Serious polluting...environmental criminals." He looked over again. "We've tracked them after the fact for years without getting a smoking gun we could take to court. Finally it was decided to take a more pro-active approach...and you were chosen coordinate it."
Andi noted and filed away the appeal to her megalomania. "Does this have anything to do with Jimmy Tuft?"
Armando gave a quick glance her way, then turned his eyes back to the road. "It might...peripherally. Does it make a difference?"
"I've been warned off by the police. I'm not supposed to complicate their lives. That means mucking around their turf."
Armando made a face and shrugged. "Your call. But our inquiry pre-dates Jimmy's death." He didn't bother to glance back, just spun the wheel and pulled onto Powell heading east. "Been out to Powell Butte lately?"
"No." admitted Andi politely. That his inquiry predated the murder didn’t mean squat. "Your target's Riparian Industries?" She stretched her legs out and stuck her elbow out the window, the air felt good. This wasn't bad, she felt like a teenager--maybe a vacation would feel like this, driving along with the sun on her arm.
"Riparian's the parent firm that owns a dozen companies that intereact in a coordinated fashion...it's part of why we feel there must be a trail of memos or notes we could use to nail ‘em."
"That sort of investigation is expensive and you’d probably be throwing your money away.” Andi observed casually. "You want internal documents" She turned slightly to watch his expression.
It didn't change, his voice was straightforward and relaxed. "Yeah. And we're ready for the cost. We have a separate account to cover your expenses."
“Who’d I be working for?" She treaded water--she didn't like the idea of being a pawn in someone else’s game and already couldn’t see the edges of the pool.
"Unofficially you're working for us all, the society, for the good guys, for yourself."
Her bullshit meter started clanging. She favored him with a disgusted look, shook her head and stared out the window.
"Officially, you work for the non-profit. Ask you friend Francois, you'll be working with him." Armando raised an eyebrow and winked conspiratorially at her.
"On what basis?" Francois was a friend, but she didn't want anyone dictating who she used--or when.
"He'll exercise his craft if and when you need him. You'll coordinate, you set scope and thrust. He’s under your direction, if that's OK."
"What’s the budget?" So far so good.
"The non-profit’s total’s well over a quarter million, your portion considerably less, but we’ve skimmed into your account for a few years." Armando fanned a superior smile. No one would expect that kind of money in a small environmental group--few, including her, would believe it.
She kept her face impassive and reminded herself of being paid well to sit through this show. "Who’s backing it? That’s not spare change."
"No it's not." Armando paused, then continued evenly. “I’ve got dedicated benefactors to whom I lie about busing rowdy loggers to environmental rallies and supporting the physical ‘discouragement’ of environmentalists caught away from prying eyes."
Andi paused to reflect on that admission, Armando's sophistication was at odds with this admission of fraud, being an administrator at odds with doing graffiti, his clothes at odds with the tacky apartment, which was at odds with his truck. Suspicions needled. Who, controlling a quarter million dollars, would live where he does, or spray paint graffiti on signs? She stared quietly, watching his profile, listening to the sound of red flags waving madly in her head.
He shot her a glance, then turned back to driving. His face was dry and relaxed, breathing regular, he seemed willing to let her suspect anything and let her take as much time as she wanted.
"Riparian's competitors play into this?" she asked evenly.
Armando responded with a little smile. "Francois said you were sharp."
Andi decided the project looked like an open wound about to go septic. Having access to industrial leaders who could write big checks placed him in special circles--that gave his organization a special spin. "I'll need more convincing." she murmured with quiet seriousness. "I get the feeling it’s doo-doo waiting to be stepped in."
"What do you want? Bank statements? References?"
"References would be a good start."
"We've got mutual friends who’ve accepted the risks." He turned into the drive leading to the parking lot atop Powell Butte, revving the pickup's engine to take the curves like a sports car.
Andi grabbed the handle over the door as they cornered. “Risks?" she demanded. "What sort of risks?" ‘Risks’ was another of the words that blared warning whistles.
Armando steered smoothly into the parking lot, his lips pinched as if carefully choosing his words. "Jimmy Tufts was murdered, Lamar has been threatened, these people play hardball...for keeps. You want more?"
"You're saying this investigation will put us at risk?" Andi leaned back in her seat, staring out the window at the panorama, weighing what he'd said, wondering how much was simple overstatement.
"Yes." The reply was simple and straightforward, his eyes clear, not wavering. "Don’t have illusions. Riparian hires serious professionals. There's not a chance your involvement will stay hidden.”
"If we take the case, we'll take that chance." Andi responded testily, her courage ruffled. "Right now, it looks risky not knowing who's on this side."
"All in good time." smiled Armando.
“What you're saying is that everything is not on the up and up with this project."
"Morality is." Armando shot her a sincere, haughty glance.
"Not legality?"
"Everything you do will be legal or you don't have to do it...everything." He pulled up and set the parking brake, then reached to turn off the engine. He turned toward her had leaned back against his door. "I'm not asking you to do anything illegal or unethical."
"You're implying that illegal activities might go on parallel to my investigation?" Andi asked cautiously.
"I was doing graffiti a couple of nights ago...that's illegal." He gave the answer with a shrug and let the comment hang in before them like a trinket on a rear view mirror.
"Is anything more serious anticipated...you mentioned a ‘worst case scenario’?"
"You're good." smiled Armando.
Andi didn't acknowledge the complement.
He sat, considering his answer. Then began in a monotone, his eyes fixed on her own. "There’s a range of possible scenarios...the first has Riparian realizing what cards we'll hold and voluntarily stopping its spewing of poison. The second might be a publicity campaign, but being wholly owned company without retail sales, they don't care about public image." He shrugged meaningfully. "If we can get evidence to take to court, we can do it there--that’s where you come in. The fourth possibility wanders more dramatic paths. Blocking gates, maybe sabotage, who knows where it’ll lead? They’ll probably respond with hostility no matter what we do. We all want to avoid that fourth way, it would mean going for their jugular. Remember...they’ve already pushed the stakes up to murder."
"I don't think I want to be involved." admitted Andi with a shake of her head.
"Hopefully the greater part of your work will be done long before they get too riled up...and you can walk any time you want."
"Including now?" She asked.
"You've already been paid." He reached out and kicked his engine to life. "But, I'd rather you talked to Francois before making up your mind."
Andi nodded agreement. "I can do that." He’d paid enough for her to make a reasoned decision. The least she could do was talk to Francois. Just for good measure, she'd call Ramone Bodega, a friendly environmental consultant, who would know the dirt on DeVino if anyone did.
Andi returned to her office to find four phone messages waiting--a call from Francois, one from her mother, a prospective client concerned about her daughter in law's past and her friend Tris--no doubt asking about babysitting.
Armando's contract was retyped and lay, half-buried on Lena's table, but Andi ignored it. "Mom called?" she asked the obvious, holding the paper between two fingers and giving a quizzical look.
"She sounded cheerful, but tired...said she wanted to let you know she’s back from your sister’s." Lena stopped typing and spun around to read Andi's expression, then tilted her head and waited another bar or two, just watching. "Maybe you should call. She sounded disappointed you weren't in."
"Thanks." Andi murmured, sinking back in her chair. Her mother breast cancer had spread to her bones and she was growing weaker. Andi could feel herself shaking even now, her mother had taken the terminal diagnosis better than she had, staying philosophical while her daughter crumbled.
She reached for the phone, then held the receiver a long while before mustering the focus to dial. Then she sat back in her chair, feeling small, listening to the hollow ring at the other end of the line.
"Hello?" Doris Wicksham's voice sounded electronic and disembodied. She been visiting Andi's sister in San Diego--Cinny had been the good sister and Andi, the constant embarrassment.
“Hi Mom, it's Andi. How’s Cinny? Was it a good trip?"
"Fine, but exhausting. I don't think I'll make it again." Her voice wavered weakly.
"Are you OK? What do you need? Shall I come over?" Andi concentrated on her breathing, trying to accept whatever came, trying to visualize her mother gaining strength.
"Nothing." the rejection came out emphatic. "It's the pain medicine. When it’s strong enough, it knocks me out and makes me sick. What I need is an afternoon's rest. Maybe you could visit tomorrow?"
"Sure Mom. How's Cinny?"
"Fine, Bob's fine, Rachel's fine. She wants me to move down there to hospice." There was a long pause where neither spoke.
"Are you considering it?"
"No. It would limit my options. I wouldn't unless I have to."
Those options were an albatross to Andi. Only alluded to, it meant suicide, her mom had hinted at it before. "Ok." Andi replied quietly. "Shall I call this evening?"
"In the morning Dear. If I'm sleeping, better not wake me." She laughed a little forced laugh, "In the morning." It took a long moment of silence for her to hang up, there was a rattling as the phone missed its cradle, then the line was cut.
Andi waited another long moment before putting the phone down, feeling the smooth plastic of the phone against her fingers, clinging to that brief connection. The whole world seemed heavy, the air thick. She rubbed her eyes and turned her chair to face the window, sitting that way a long time without seeing anything. Across the room, Lena watched quietly.
The moment was interrupted by a ringing. Lena reached without taking her eyes from Andi. "Investigatory services. Hi Francois.” He was a computer/phone expert of the highest order, a hacker extraordinaire, a sub-rosa consultant in most things digital, information retrieval, research beyond the edge of legal, legal and illegal data banks, who worked within elaborate layers of security, through constantly rerouted phone lines.
Lena kept her gaze on Andi. "She's tied up at the moment, anything I can do?"
The reply took a minute or more and Lena looked down to scribble a note. "You've talked with Armando DeVino?" She glanced again to Andi. Francois talked on, Lena murmuring "yeah" and "sure.” She glanced again over her shoulder. "Andi?" she asked carefully. "It's Francois."
Andi swung around and swept the phone to her ear as she gave Lena a clear-eyed nod. "Yo, Francois. I talked with your friend Armando. This thing legit?"
"Yeah. Why?" Francois' voice was neutral.
"It seemed fishy. I don't know which side he's on." Andi grumbled. "What would you be doing?"
"He’s on our side. Most of my stuff would be researching for you, but there’s a little you'll not want to officially know.”
The tide was pulling against turning down the job. "How would we keep things separate?"
Francois evidently anticipated the question. "Written authorizations and results will keep the surface clean...how much deniability do you need?"
She frowned, but his answer was better than she'd expected, without denial, evasion or excuse. "Is it really an environmental pollution case? Armando hedged in his explanation."
"I think so, complicated by fraud, blackmail and intimidation...uhhh destruction of evidence and murder. Riparian’s among the nastiest pond scum that's risen to the top." Francois yawned as if it were old hat.
"Why not just drop a dime to the Department of Environmental Quality?" Asked Andi, "Isn’t this scheme a bit much for a pollution problem?"
"No evidence. DEQ can only work with what they're given. They need proof that will stand in court and that proof keeps disappearing. Remember I mentioned probable murders?"
Andi remembered, just hadn't gotten to it yet. "OK. Tell me that part." she grumped.
"A couple years ago the state-level DEQ guy investigating Riparian's subsidiaries disappeared--flat-out missing--now declared dead. A few days later, the local administrator overseeing that investigation was found dead in his camper...gunshot wound, unsolved. Then, a guy taking samples in the river was found drowned...possible accident. The poor folks in that office are scared of starting a file. Now there’s Jimmy Tuft.”
"And the police?" Andi pushed, still suspicious. "If you know this, they do."
"They can't do more than work with what they're given." Francois' voice had grown hard. "And can't go further than they can justify with evidence."
"Three deaths, two from one office and community suspicion that Riparian's involved. That should spark an investigation." The project had a funny smell. This was too much to have been simply swept under the rug and the simplest answer was that Armando embroidered the truth.
"Each death was in a different jurisdiction so drawing them together was difficult. The state police did some investigation for a legislative committee that assembled some meaningless paper, interviewed eight people wrote a whitewash and folded tents. Their report's a slim twenty pages saying nothing.”
“Maybe there wasn’t anything to find.”
“Not in this case. Common wisdom has it that it takes political pull to get that sort of non-action...but hey, this is a small state, money buys influence."
"How about the FBI?" pushed Andi impatiently.
"Nothing distinctly federal like interstate commerce, but who knows? They don't comment.”
"So, the bottom line is, Armando's project’s legitimate?"
"It's a real at least." answered Francois carefully.
"Pretty high security for environmental activism, isn't it?"
Francois gave an sardonic snort. "You been out of touch a while haven't you? You’re dated. Things have grown serious in the last couple of decades. The thing you gotta understand is that Armando's up against a company that’s taken off their gloves and uses lead pipes."
"And you're asking me to go against them?"
"He's asking, I’m already in. Somebody has to do it." There was a cold-steel edge to his voice.
"OK." Andi let out a deep breath. "I'll give it some thought."
"If it matters, you’re my personal choice. I think you're the right one for the job."
"Thanks amigo. What’s the financial situation?"
"Payment for services. The money's there."
"Do you believe his story?"
"Yeah. For his supporters, it’s a business deduction, he makes them feel they’re getting their money’s worth. The politics aren't what you or I would chose."
"Corporate polluters are supporting him?" derided Andi.
"Well...yes. They've given the lion's share. Most are major sleaze, but they don’t see beyond Armando’s cover. It seems right to me that they should inadvertently pay for this.
“You want us to work for scumbags?" She still was unconvinced.
“Interesting irony, isn’t it. It’s a worthwhile project. We’d work for Armando...he takes their money for ‘worthwhile projects’.”
Andi let four bars beat by before replying. "You got more to tell me?"
"Non. Au revoir mon ami. Call again if you want."
"Yeah, so long." Andi hung up.
Lena looked over. "Legit?"
Andi chewed her lower lip. "Is the bear Polish?" she answered with a smile. Whether it was legit or not was missing the point. She punched in Ramone Bodega's number, but held Lena's eyes. A message machine answered, she asked for return call.
Lena toyed with a pencil, trying to balance it on her finger. "So what do you think, take it? You've been grinding your teeth over skip searches you don’t care about. You need a challenge."
"Ramirez would hate it. Jimmy Tuft’s case is Max's new baby. It’ll be tough side-stepping it."
Lena broke into a smile. "Contract's in the name of Oregon Industry/Nature Coalition, Inc...two copies?"
"Nooo Lena, you can't pull that on me. I haven't made up my mind." Andi glared across her desk defiantly.
"Suit yourself. The contract is in your pending box." She slipped the paper clipped pages in, about half-way down in the pending pile, grinned as if pleased with herself and turned back to her keyboard with a little bounce.
"This coalition’s an industry group?" Andi sat back in her chair.
"Big dirty industries..." Lena mumbled under her breath.
Andi sighed and looked up Armando's phone number. There was something wrong, she could feel it. Then again, things being wrong was normal, that's why people hired her.
Armando answered on the second ring. "Hello?"
"Armando, it's Andi Wicksham."
"Yes, Ms. Wicksham?" Armando's voice seemed ready to listen for hours.
"Your organization is Oregon Industry/Nature Coalition?"
"Yes." He spun the confirmation with a quizzical tone, as if wondering what difference it made.
"It's an industrial sector group of polluters and you're executive director?" No use beating around the bush.
"Yes." His tone was encouraging.
"Yet you portray yourself as an environmentalist?"
"Yes, I am." He was matter of fact about the contradiction. "I told you before. The coalition is a front."
Andi wasn't prepared for that and the line hung open most of an eight-bar phrase. "A front?"
"It's a legal, incorporated entity, primarily funded by some of the nastiest of Oregon's industrial polluters. We do highly visible public service announcements with a positive, green message. They claim the tax deduction and brag about how responsible they are. Incidentally, a large portion of the proceeds go into projects like ours."
"Excuse me?" Andi blurted sarcastically. "Isn't that fraud?"
"No, absolutely not." Armando defended emphatically. "Our agreement specifically earmarks a percentage for non-reportable expenditures. It’s part of what they want.”
"Non-reportable expenditures?" Asked Andi doubtfully.
"Their idea is closer to busing loggers to harass environmentalists, but they go out of their way to avoid knowing anything about it and I send the clear-cutters to marginal events without much press."
"You expect me to believe that they're letting you spend their money any way you see fit?" Andi laughed.
"Actually yeah. The mission statement they authorize demands we take a pro-active, invisible, role to bring about change. I'm very careful about contracts. The part neither of discuss is which side of the issues we're on."
"Oh." said Andi, momentarily struck dumb. "That's handy." she allowed.
"That’s salesmanship." replied Armando. "By the way, your friend Sergeant Ramirez called me twice since we met him."
"And?"
"He was polite, but firm. I repeated that I didn't know much. He said he was willing to hear gossip, so I told him some that won’t lead anywhere."
"He isn't going to like that." Andi observed.
"Well, it seemed pragmatic." He let a moment of silence bob like a leaf on the river before asking, "Have you made up your mind?"
"No." returned Andi quietly. "I was just getting clarification. I'll give my answer this afternoon. Thanks, goodbye."
"My pleasure." responded Armando.
Andi sat back in her chair and looked up to the ceiling, considering the options. The pluses were: it was a paying job without adolescents and meant working with Francois, which had always been fun. The negatives; Max's investigation was running close enough to knock elbows and Armando's project smelled to high-heaven of something fishy. If there was something illegal down the track, there'd be a freight car of ugly splashing everywhere.
She chewed her lip. Another side of the coin was that the project was still an unknown and she was at loose ends at the moment. She might conceivably steer it away from Jimmy Tuft and Max. If she couldn't, Ramirez would bawl her out and she’d close up shop with nothing lost. A tantalizing corner of the contract stuck out from the files waiting her attention, but she denied its siren call--she didn't need the aggravation.
She reached for the top file. Might as well beat at backlog before lunch. She skimmed the report, scrawled a signature, glanced through the invoice and went on to the next. She'd completed the third and was reaching for the fourth when she realized she hadn't paid attention to any of them. "Time for lunch." She yelled to break the busy silence that settled around them.
Lena looked over with half-lidded eyes and said, "Tough decision?"
"No, I'm just hungry." She wasn't about to give in.
"Fine. Let's go, how about Beau Thai?"
"That's all the way cross town." complained Andi.
"It's Lamar Rasheed and Jimmy Tuft's neighborhood..." Lena dangled sweetly.
Andi lowered her brows and gave a stare that would curdle motor oil.
Lena batted her lashes and smiled innocently, giving Andi time to think and letting time take its toll.
"OK..." Andi finally allowed. "But you have to drive."
After lunch there was a single call on the machine, from Ramirez, suggesting coffee.
"It's Andi, returning your call." she barked flatly at his grumpy "Sergeant Ramirez."
"So Wicksham, are you free for a social moment?"
"Social?" asked Andi, warily.
"Sure. Coffee this afternoon? What's the problem...going paranoid?"
Andi took a moment to consider before replying. "Maybe, I had this tinge of worry that Max somehow imagined me stepping on his toes."
"Guilty conscience?" teased Ramirez.
"In your dreams.”
"We have to plan a dinner too."
"Lena's been talking that up." Burdening their time with another agenda could only help her cause.
"When?" impatience crept into his tone.
It seemed to Andi that he was pushing a little too hard for the meeting to be social. "What's the scoop with the Jimmy Tuft murder?"
"He was sticking his nose into a corporate rattlesnake nest. His friend Rasheed too. Our take on them is that they're bush-league political whiners with more attitude than brains." Ramirez tossed it out as if it were talk about the weather. "When do we do dinner?"
"Who are the rattlesnakes?" Andi half-feigned a yawn.
"I thought your client told you all about that?" Ramirez countered immediately.
"I haven't accepted the case yet. And I don't know about it." She didn't want to comment on what Armando might or might not know.
"Any idea what pushes the stakes high enough to drop Jimmy Tuft's body in Rasheed's kitchen?"
"Isn't that Max's investigation? You warned me off."
"Right...and you always do what you're told to do. I figure you're about to take DeVino as your client. Does he want you to look into his friend’s murder?"
Andi smiled to herself as she had an insight. Max and Ramirez were spinning their wheels on the case. "He’s interested, but the investigation’s focused on environmental stuff." She allowed herself a regretful grin. "You're telling me Lamar Rasheed wouldn't tell you what you wanted? Seems he'd know something if the snakes dumped Jimmy in front of his sink."
Ramirez took a breath before answering, then came across like a quiet pillar of rationality. "First...I'm not telling you whether Rasheed told us anything or not. Second, he's as quiet about the problem as a mouse--claims he has no idea why anybody would dump a body at his place."
"Do you believe him?"
"Of course not." Ramirez snorted. "He's a lying little snot who doesn't seem to care if we threaten him."
Andi allowed a fair shake of irony to salt her reply. "That takes away Max's main prod 'eh? Too bad he didn't play friend and protector. Intimidating victims, then wondering why they don't cooperate is more than a little stupid."
Ramirez' voice held a mixture of disgust and frustration. "Yeah...he gave me the good cop role, but it was too late to build any bridges...when can we get together?"
"I hear you've talked to Armando."
"He at least claims to know a little bit. His problem is that his memory is faulty and he only knows hearsay."
"That’s better than nothing." consoled Andi.
"No it isn't. It makes Max suspicious. So, when are you free for coffee?"
"Haven't you already asked me the stuff Max wanted?" Andi asked pointedly.
"Sure, but the personal touch might soften you up...he says take you out for coffee, I say ‘why not,’ he's buying."
"Too bad it isn't lunch."
"Could have been. I tried to catch you earlier."
"Will it keep until tomorrow? Think Max'll buy Lena's too?"
"Sure. He'll think he's getting twice the chance for inside information."
"Great. Shall we say noon at Bread and Ink?"
Ramirez laughed, "It's a date."
“Lunch, manana with Ramirez.” She called out to Lena without putting down the receiver. Tris wanted to take Jason for an anniversary dinner; a bit of food, a little wine, some spicy food, a little romance. How could a friend say no? Auntie Andi would come over Friday at six, pick up one and a half year old Simone, bring her home, play a bit, feed her dinner and read her to sleep, then drive her back home around midnight.
Lena sat quietly through the negotiation, eyes on her computer, hands in her lap. Andi watched her listening, Lena’s screen saver had bouncing tomatoes that grew riper and riper until they burst with smears of juice and seeds. Lena resisted the "auntie" idea and secured a pre-emptive exemption from the chore. This would be the first time Simone would be at their house without mama. Andi finished and rang off, hoping it wasn't a mistake.
The next incoming call was business with its own set of problems. The prospective client wanted to shed a ray of darkness onto her new daughter in-law. She desperately wanted the creature to be involved in some act against nature, but couldn't come up with the dirt. "That's what I want you for." she shrilled self-righteously.
"No, I'm sorry, it's not a job I'd be good at." There were lots of PI's with no scruples. They might even manufacture something if that's what their client wanted, she didn't need the work. "I really don't have time. Have you looked in the yellow pages?"
"Of course." the distraught mother-in-law scolded. "I called the listing with a woman's name. I assumed I could trust you."
"You don't trust your daughter in law who's a woman." Andi pointed out the obvious.
"But she's evil."
Yes, that was perfectly reasonable. ‘Over the top’ thought Andi. "Sorry, I don't do exorcisms." she stated flatly. "You might want to call a priest." It was close enough to an insult to get the woman to hang up. Andi smiled as she noted the call in her book.
The next call came from Ramone Bodega. "What’s up, friend? Long time no see. I suppose you've got a technical problem." His voice was light and friendly.
"Not exactly, Ramone. Do you know Armando DeVino?"
"Oregon Industry/Nature something?"
"Coalition." assisted Andi.
"The organization’s a funny hybrid. I haven't figured it out. You interested in him or the group?"
"Both." Andi pulled out the middle drawer of her desk, put her feet up and leaned back in her chair with the erie feeling Bodega had just done that too. It was enough to make her pull her feet back and pull herself up to her desk. "I'm considering taking him or them as a client."
"They can afford you, but it's not your usual crowd." Bodega allowed dryly. "Big corporate polluters hiring you? Go figure."
"Tell me about them."
"You must have caught their radio and TV spots. Slickly produced, but with ill-chosen subjects? Their usually so strange the net result probably isn't really bad." Bodega chuckled. "Like a ad campaign pointing out how clear-cutting enabled people to see more of the scenery. Pictures of nasty clear-cuts with beautiful sunsets or vistas in the background, framed by untouched old growth. There was such a double message, it made you wonder."
"Sure...I've seen them." Andi conceded. "That was Industry/Nature?"
"Most of their stuff is relatively tame. Management of resources being their verb-form instead of preservation; pastorals of wildlife or sport fishermen, encouragement to pick up litter and put your campfires out, smiling children hiking with mountainous vistas or breathtaking coastal cliffs." Bodega paused, but Andi didn't offer anything, so he continued. "What does he want you to do?"
"Supposedly, investigate a polluting industry."
"Doesn't sound like his organization’s mandate." Bodega replied doubtfully.
Andi primly pinched her lips together. "No it doesn't. What do you know of the man?"
"I've never met him. He doesn't hang out with tree huggers."
"He claims he's an environmentalist." Andi murmured.
"Does he?" Bodega's inflection exaggerated the question, then he laughed, "I bet he doesn't around his corporate sponsors."
"Maybe he's a closeted one." she appended, for some reason defensive. "Know anything about his personal life?"
There was moment of quiet as if Bodega had to consider the question. "Not really. I've seen him across the room. He has one of those faces that seem unusually familiar, slightly charismatic like a good salesman."
"Familiar?" Andi asked.
Bodega took on a thoughtful tone. "I've heard others say it too. But my friends don't mix with his crowd."
"No one?" Andi asked. She could hear him shuffling papers in the back ground.
"Nobody I know. It would be a questionable type of contact. If he's green he's playing both sides against the middle. A sweet-talking mouthpiece for the bad guys? You got to wonder why anybody with scruples would do that."
Andi took a breath and released it before answering. "That's a good question. I don't have any idea."
"Is there anything else?" There was a final shuffling of papers on his end of the line. "Sorry I haven't been much help."
"Actually, you've been a big help. How about if I buy us coffee as repayment?" She reached for her notebook to check her schedule.
"Will that come with a cookie?" Bodega chuckled.
Andi had the feeling he was looking through the next week's schedule just as she was. "How about next Tuesday?"
"It would be tight. Wednesday?"
"Morning or afternoon?"
"Say two o'clock, at Powell's Books coffee shop?"
"Done." Andi penciled it into her appointment book, said. "Thanks a bunch." and returned to her pending box, musing on the mysterious Armando.
Three files down, she stopped to call her mother.
"Well, hello Andi. It's good to hear you." Her voice was definitely weaker. "I've phoned Portland Hospice." she announced out of the blue.
"What?" Andi's voice came out an octave and a half high. Portland Hospice was great for what it was, but she knew it from visiting four friends dying of AIDS and it didn't hold positive memories.
"I wanted to check out the options...prices and all that sort of thing." Her mother chirped on, oblivious to Andi's discomfort. "They're usually booked solid, but I understand there's quite a turnover."
"That's not a joke, is?" Andi demanded warily.
"Not a very good one." her mother admitted. "I've pretty much made up mind to avoid it."
Andi shut her eyes.
"I'd like to talk to you tomorrow or the next day...late in the afternoon if possible, maybe before you head home."
"Sure." replied Andi. "Tomorrow?"
"Fine, but if something comes up, Wednesday would be just as good. I'd just like to talk things over."
"Sure." Andi repeated. "Anything now?" asked hopefully. She hated waiting.
"No. Give me a call if appointments conflict." Mrs. Wicksham treated being considerate as a competitive arena. "Give my love to Lena."
Keeping the phone to her ear, Andi looked up. "Mom gives her love."
"Kiss, kiss." Lena blew a smooch.
"She say's ‘kiss, kiss.’ Is there anything you need, anything I can bring you...books, juice, cappuccino?"
The offer bore no fruit. Though fatigued, there was no easing. "No. I keep everything covered. We'll talk tomorrow."
Andi was defeated. "OK." She felt like a six year old told to sit on her hands--not even allowed to bring her a magazine.
"Fine. I'll see you then." There was a rasping wheeze to the dismissal.
"So long." Andi whispered quietly to herself as she slowly set down the phone. Her mother kept things covered--obsessively. It left no room for anyone else. Andi shut her eyes, filled her lungs and held her breath until it burned before releasing it in one long sigh.
She opened her eyes to the work before her and, chewing her lip, she reached to snatch the next file from her box. Andi kept her head down and her thoughts occupied and passed mid-afternoon without stopping.
She just finished the invoice of a skip-search file when the phone rang. It was Armando. "Have you made a decision?"
Andi stalled and considered putting him off, but remembered the uncomfortable thoughts that waited for her idle moments. "This is a service industry. I'm a common carrier." she quipped, "Detective services for hire."
"When are you available?" He sounded relieved, but he'd blurted it as if it had waited on the tip of his tongue.
Andi paused and took a breath, glance at her pending box, then at Lena. "Now if you want." And why not? It would get her out of the office.
Lena looked over, the corner's of her mouth twitching. She raised a indulgent eyebrow.
Armando moved on, strictly business. "Great. Four-thirty, at my place."
"I'll be there." Andi raised her watch. Twelve minutes to four. A half-hour to do something useful. "I'll bring your contract. Anything else?"
He exhaled audibly. "Thanks Andi. Just thanks." That said and heard, he hung up.
Andi lowered the receiver, pushing aside the file she'd finished with her left hand to log in the call with her right. When she finished, she rose to her feet. "Let's take a break. I'll catch you up on our client."
Lena glanced over at the half-full coffee pot waiting unused. "Sure." she tapped a few last strokes into her computer, watched three screens whiz past and tapped a few final times.
Andi waited impatiently, already halfway across the room.
Lena stretched a languid, careless stretch on the way up from her chair. "Coming." she claimed, gracefully touching her toes before meeting Andi at the door.
After coffee and a shared mango scone, they walked back to the office, Lena set back to work as if the high priestess of the clerical Gods while Andi slid the contract into a folder and grabbed her coat.
Francois' Subaru was parked under a shade tree a block away from Armando's even though there was ample parking in front. Armando's red truck waited in the driveway. The front room curtains were still drawn.
Armando greeted her with a smile. Francois sat sedately at the far end of the ugly couch. The same musty smell still hung in the house.
"Should I have parked around the corner?" Andi asked with a smirk.
Francois made a dismissive sweep of his fingers. "I’m minimizing a visible relationship."
"Please sit." Armando’s face was as blank as a IRS clerk’s. "I invited Francois to borrow his credibility.” Andi settled without comment in the chair to his right, Armando settled across from her and lay two packets on the table. "I took the liberty of writing a second check to cover a longer investigation, we'll settle accounts weekly. No need for receipts, just tell me your gross out of pocket." His eyes didn't leave her face.
"Great." replied Andi with an expressionless nod. The check laying before her started with a six and had three zeros before the decimal. She fought a smile that tried to twist the corners of her mouth.
"Our primary target is Riparian Industries, it’s owned and managed by Rebecca Sauturne. Three paper mills, an industrial chemicals brokerage, a trucking firm, and four or five machine industries...as a privately held firm they’re almost completely opaque to outsiders." Armando gestured to packets of material on the table.
Andi bent to pick one, leaned back in her chair and glanced through a clearly written fact sheet about Riparian’s holdings with numbers, descriptions, addresses and names. There were eight photo's clipped behind the reports. She looked up expectantly.
"We'll start by taking a general inventory of their corporate operations. After we know what the big picture is we'll focus in on specifics." He paused for comment.
Andi kept her face blank. "If you've been up against Riparian all these years, you must already know their big picture."
Armando shot an amused smile to Francois before he replied. "We've been at it so long we have to assume we lack a balanced view. Anyway, it'll give you a chance to acquaint yourself using your own research. We’re hoping it’ll raise our credibility." His answers were as smooth as silk, professionally neutral without a hint of political zeal.
Andi nodded again, the zeal was in him somewhere, she wondered just how big a part it played.
"The violent arm of Sauturne's organization is a security company called Mardell Special Forces who runs the rent-a-cop guards for all her operations."
"Interestingly enough, Riparian companies are their only contracts." inserted Francois.
Again Armando gestured to the table, this time to two manila envelopes.
Francois passed one over without comment. Armando glanced at a three by five card. Inside the envelope were a couple of stapled reports of notes, and two fat bundles of photos. The larger bundle were candid shots of men in security uniforms, gun on hip, standing at doorways, sitting before consoles, or walking about.
Armando narrated as she flipped through them. "The second bundle shows Sauturne and Mardell’s management--the top two are attorneys. That first one shows the latest batch of grunts. They bring in new faces all the time, rotate them through their locations and let them go."
"Catch and release?" Andi quipped.
"The idea is to keep the lower echelon from getting cozy or understanding much of their operation. They’re moved from location to location every month and can't have much loyalty knowing that after stepping through the system, they’ll be dumped without a net."
Andi glanced through the photos, there were only two women among the peons, they all looked tough and world-wise. "Does Mardell pay more than going rate?" She asked without looking up. "They don't look like greenhorns."
Armando coughed quietly and answered without inflection. "No, they pay minimum. They’re whole crew is of a particular type."
"What type’s that?" Andi asked idly as she slid the photos back in the envelope.
"All with serious criminal convictions." replied Armando. "Chosen that way. A labor pool without opportunities comes desperate and come cheap."
Back at the office Andi cranked into low gear, setting up subdirectories and file folders, making lists.
Lena set aside her projects to help. "Do we focus on Sauturne?" She leaned against the window and looked through the photographs.
"She's the figure head. Armando didn't come right and say she that calls all the shots, but implied she was the driving force. No doubt works at keeping her distance from anything nasty." Andi tapped her teeth with her pencil’s eraser. "We’ll start with above-board details; public source stuff, standard credit checks on each management drone. Then we’ll look into alternative sources."
"Where are we going to put our sub-rosa stuff?" Asked Lena, clipping photos inside the covers of folders and carefully printed headings on the tabs.
"What do you mean?" Andi asked impatiently.
"If we want deniablity we'll need an official file and a real one."
Andi's made a face. Andi ground her teeth. This is going to be a pain in the ass. Got more ideas?"
Lena shook her head. "Ask me tomorrow." She made a vaudevillian glance at her watch, "It's late, let’s call it a day."
Andi smiled. "You start cleaning up, I want to finish these folders. How about some of Shawn's Crab Ravioli? White wine, garlic and butter sauce? We’ll get some at the deli."
"Oh, Mama..." Lena gave a little contented shiver. "Throw in a hot bath and quiet jazz and it's a deal." She grabbed the coffee pot and mugs and headed off to rinse them. "I really like the way we live." she said sweetly.
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