Cafe Underground Presents

BINDS THAT TIE

Book 4    --    Chapter 7
The Detective Andi Wicksham Series, by RL Bell

Copyright © 1997 RL BELL

Andi Wicksham's INVESTIGATORY SERVICES

Chapter 7

        They returned to a message from Armando and an e-mail from Snowden saying he’d downloaded a new batch of material to Adolf--Lena looked and groaned at it’s size.
        Armando's message said, "Returning your call. I'll check my files for key-words. But the big news is, I got a list of chemicals Janus receives from..." There was a pause as he seemed to check a note. "...Titan, A&C, Machine Salvage, their machine shops and others. It’s the piece we needed, I'm very excited about it, but I'll be out of touch a few days. I'll send some checks to tide you over."
        That was it. Andi shook her head. Snail-mail would take days--she dialed his number--and left a message. Her message was, "It's Andi. E-mailing the list would save time." Short and sweet. He'd get the message.
        She settled before her computer and flipped through screen after screen of Francois research, trying to get a sense of what was out there.
        Bryce Smith, the smaller lawyer with a bad complexion, headed Mardell as Andi suspected. Smith had earned a degree in history before getting a JD from Brigham Young’s law school, spent time in Miami where he was charged with fiduciary fraud and larceny, pled to misdemeanor malfeasance for a hand-slap reprimand. Next came Dallas Texas where he practiced uneventfully another year before moving here nine years ago. He stepped into his present position apparently out of the blue; managing director of Mardell Special Services.
        Jesse Clayton, the well fed one, took his orders. After a liberal arts degree from a Southern Bible college Clayton tried the career track in the Marines for a decade before leaving to attend a Tennessee law school. It was a stormy Marine career; domestic abuse, numerous drunken brawls, three demotions and a divorce. After all that, he inexplicably got an honorable discharge. It took him three and a half years to finish law school, but he passed the bar and partnered with Smith in Dallas where he continued to get into bar-fights. Francois noted that since coming here to Portland he'd had a clean record. His plumped, jovial cheeks, business suit and well washed look hid his violent demeanor well.
        There was screen after screen of documents she didn't dig through. It was as if Francois dumped big blocks of business documents; letters ordering equipment, personnel reports, investigations at various Riparian sites and more. Too much to digest at a sitting.
        "Can you get a chance to help with this?" she asked Lena hopefully.
        Lena smirked. "I'm already on it."
        Andi nodded absently and punched up Francois' phone number.
        Lena continued cheerfully, "It couldn't take more than a month if we work round the clock." Andi didn’t respond.
        Francois answered--second ring, "Yo, Wicksham. Got that stuff?"
        "It's going to take days to dig through." Andi complained. "What do you think?"
        Francois replied curtly, "This line's not secure. Phone back to scramble." He abruptly hung up.
        Andi cursed, but phoned back on the cellular trying to rein in her growing irritation. "OK. I'm here." she spit as Francois picked up.
        "Scramble." he answered evenly, then a barrage of clicks and static came through. "Lena." Andi wailed. "What channel are we scrambling through?"
        Lena glanced over, "There are six nobs. We count AM's and PM's on the first knob, who phone's who on the second and the hour of the day on the third."
        "It's too complicated." Andi complained, staring blankly at the receiver's knobs.
        Lena used her driest pedantic voice. "First knob...starting yesterday afternoon, this morning was two, this afternoon's three. Then who initiates the call; you're three, he's four, I'm five and Armando's six on the second knob. Finally, right now it’s one thirty or thirteen thirty-five from which you subtract multiples of six. That brings you back to one thirty so you set the third knob to one...easy."
        "The system bites." mumbled Andi as she set the knobs to three, three and one. "Hey, Snowden. You there? This scrambler idea of your's sucks donkey ears."
        "Yeah? Your mama raised you to be a mule driver." Francois' retorted. His voice sounded a little tinny.
        "It's too complicated."
        "You'll get used to it, we have confidence."
        "Thanks for nothing." Andi grumbled. "Is there anything especially significant?"
        "Smoking guns?" Francois asked, "Not yet that I've seen. I pinched correspondence, then personnel files, then executive memos by the loose hand-fulls. I'm hoping this trawl'll focus our next grab."
        "Hmmph." Andi grumped noncommittally. Without knowing how much impatience was due, she figured to err on the side of crabbiness. "Anything interesting?"
        "Interesting to me. Setting it up, they used e-mail tech-support, but e-mail dead-files are low security so I got enough to throw away my crowbar. I know they have enough armaments to start a medium-scale bush war. Actually, I'm rather pleased with where we are."
        "Where's that?" Andi asked in frustration.
        "With our foot in the door. First you want me to slow down and be extra cautious, then you're impatient we’re not further along. You can't have it both ways."
        It was a valid point. "Sorry. Once I got started, it felt like an avalanche hit me."
        "There's too much stuff to sort through while in their system so I chose volume over finesse, but I've got Paco here helping me now so I can pick apart their VAX. Walking on egg shells is taking time."
        "Sure." replied Andi unenthusiastically. Paco was the partner of one of her long-time best friends. She closed her eyes, the room seemed warm and she felt tired.
        "Anything else?" he asked lightly.
        "I haven't gotten through very much." she admitted. "But the personnel stuff looks interesting. I suppose they're helping a lot of ex-cons get work."
        Francois snorted sarcastically. "I’d bet their resentful at best. A call to a probation officer and they're outta there. It's clear the bosses don't trust 'em."
        "Might look for people who might have a grudge. We need to fill in blanks." She made a memo in her notebook.
        "Good idea." Francois conceded. "Are we finished?"
        "I suppose so." Andi drawled. The conversation had revived her. Francois hung up and she flicked the cellular phone off with a smile. She was still smiling ten minutes later when Ramirez called and launched right into an attack.
        "We can't find your Alvin Delgatto...but I suppose you knew that we wouldn't be able to."
        "It turns out I couldn't either." Andi admitted, “but really didn't try until that day I gave you his name and address. I came up with other sources for what I needed."
        "Like Judith-Anne Chapman?" Ramirez interrupted. "Anne with an ‘e’?"
        "She'll do. What did you find out?"
        "Found she's a major pain in the ass with assumptions about cops that puts the worst militia jerks to shame."
        "You mean she couldn't fill you in on what went on around the DEQ murders? I thought she'd be anxious to get them looked into..." Andi mused silently a moment. "Who went out and questioned her?"
        "Want to give a wild guess?" Ramirez sounded disgusted.
        "Max? Himself? Jesus, Ramirez." Andi whistled compassionately. "You gotta keep that guy on a leash."
        "Yeah. Well he had me on one. She wanted to meet at Laurelhurst Park. I had to follow along in his wake like his driver. I stood at his elbow as she cursed him up one side and down the other."
        "Did she corroborate that it was Riparian who was being investigated by the DEQ victims? That they were the popular contemporary suspects?"
        "Yes. She did." Ramirez sighed. "But with so much vehemence that she's a lousy witness. She lost her credibility when she called Max a pig."
        "Lost her credibility. That should certify her reliable." Andi fought to keep from laughing.
        "Yeah...she claims the state committee investigation splashed so much whitewash that Riparian might have been managed by Mother Teresa. Other than that, nada. It's a closely held secret, but here in the public sector, investigative bodies like legislative committee's have a higher stature than hostile women calling us names." It was to Ramirez' credit that he was able to say that and still come out sounding even-handed.
        "I'm underwhelmed at your professionalism, Ramirez. Does it mean that Riparian is not suspected of having been DEQ's target and is not suspected in the murders?"
        "What it means is that the DEQ murders look like a lost cause. And we don't have connections between Tuft or Rasheed and the DEQ."
        Andi shut her eyes. "Did you ask Riparian about Jimmy and that meeting he was going to tape?"
        "Ask who, Wicksham? Riparian is a corporation...like a snake with a thousand heads. We don't know who might have been involved. All we have is third-hand hearsay that un-named persons were doing generally unspecified bad stuff."
        "So nobody was asked questions?" Andi asked incredulously.
        “Actually, Wicksham, I myself spent an hour and a half on the phone asking fruitless questions of a handful of underlings and three executive-types. Midway through the maze was a public relations nebbish who didn't even know the names of the corporate officers. I tossed him back and spit an angry word or two at the administrative assistant referring him. That won me a referral to a vice president of something, but he was professional non-answerer that took an hour and a half to obfuscate the administrative chain command to a muddle."
        "What was his name?" Andi asked; at least she had Riparian’s corporate structure figured.
        "Uhhh. Thomas Boyd." he had to glance through some papers to pull it out.
        "He's vice president in charge of facilitation...that's Riparian-speak for security. In charge of security guards and specific nastiness. Directly in charge. Their security arm does the dirty work under his supervision."
        Ramirez interrupted. "Is this a long, involved story Wicksham?"
        "Yeah." she hated being interrupted like that. "Why?"
        "I think it would be better if you told it over a mocha. At Max's expense."
        "OK." Andi glanced at her appointment page. "How about at three o’clock at the Cafe Underground? Sorry you didn't get more from Chapman."
        "Sure." All in all, Ramirez didn't sound too upset.
        "Where does that leave you?" Andi looked at her computer, its screen saver’s whirling dervish spun the screen into swirls, one streak at a time.
        "I leaves me with Max's instructions to beat against your cage until you talk. He’s still convinced you’re withholding something crucial. This is his version of a velvet glove. Sorry Wicksham." Ramirez sounded genuinely contrite, then he hung up.
        Andi glanced at her watch. It was a little after two. If she stretched it until the last moment she could work another forty-five minutes before meeting Ramirez. She punched in Francois' number a second time and switched to scramble.
        "Another dance?" Snowden answered in his British accent.
        "Ain't I the one what brung ya?" Andi quipped. "Have you finished that key-word search?" she barked a bit too insistently.
        "Not yet. Is this your latest brain-storm? How many things do you want me to do at once? I haven't even gotten into Riparian yet." It was Francois's voice.
        "Sorry." apologized Andi insincerely.
        "Actually I talked to Doc Watson about it this morning and even at this moment have the thing cued up."
        "Great minds on the same plane." Andi offered.
        "Fools think alike." retorted Snowden.
        "What words are you using?" She didn't have patience for bantering just now.
        "Victim's names, initials, places, DEQ, department, the dates of the murders and the days following, lots of derivations of the above. Got more?"
        "How about ‘legislative committee’ with its permutations?"
        "Why not?" returned Francois, "We'll toss in the committee members. Know who they were?”
        "No, but it would be great to find out which ones Riparian’s close to." Andi knew the focus was straying--but, she was grasping at straws. A wider search would generate another day's work, but she'd take the risk just now. "That's it. Thanks." she snarled curtly as she hung up and returned to her computer.
        Lena announced that she’d gotten the committee's report; Andi pulled it up and started reading. It was indeed a whitewash--an obvious one, stating unequivocally in the overview that they were investigating accidents and suicide and ended up saying far less than the newspapers. They drew the conclusion that there were no DEQ files lost without interviewing a single DEQ employee, stated that it would be impossible to know what projects were being working on and found no reason to assume links between their work and deaths. It found no connection between the disappearance and deaths other than the coincidence of timing and concluded that it was a simple tragedy. They even wondered publicly if the Medical Examiner’s concern over wrongdoing could be explained by overwork.
        The committee was chaired by state Senator Robert Hyde; assumably he played point-guard in writing the report. As far as Andi's shadowy awareness of state politics went, he was still in office. She toyed with the idea of phoning Francois a third time, but held off, made a note to check Hyde's campaign contributions, grabbed her cellphone and ran off to meet Ramirez.


        He was waiting at a small table in the corner. There were only a few people there at that hour--two browsing though the deli cases and three sitting at a table on the far side of the room.
        "Sit down, Wicksham. I ordered you a mocha to be made when you showed up."
        Andi glanced to the woman at the counter who raised a glass mug, smiled a toothy smile and busied herself behind the stainless steel espresso maker. "Is there any way to get Max's aggression documented?" She figured that offense to be a tolerable defense in situations such as this, especially since Max had obviously not curried Ramirez' favor by dragging him off to question Chapman.
        Ramirez silently shook his head while keeping his eyes on her. "You've been investigating Riparian Industries?"
        It was more of statement than question, but Andi answered with a nod.
        "Word has come down from the brass that you are harassing them." Ramirez gave up nothing in his blank expressionless delivery.
        Andi paused until her mocha was set before her and the waitress wandered off. "None of us has even questioned a secretary, much less vice presidents. They must have meant you guys." Andi volleyed the ball into Ramirez' back court.
        "They named your company and you specifically." It was as if she hadn't spoken.
        "Now why would they do that?" She pondered out loud. Silently she labeled it a preemptive strike, which means they’d learned of her and at least some of what they were doing.
        "That's what you're supposed to tell me." explained Ramirez evenly.
        "Well, we're not a big operation." grinned Andi, it was a silly grin intended to reduce the question to an equally silly level. "I personally am not aware anyone in our vast organization ever speaking to a single Riparian executive. And that extends to each of the dozen or so companies Riparian owns. In addition I have not authorized and do not know about a single phone call to any employee of any of their employees or subcontractors."
        Ramirez sat before her like a rock. Two minutes later he still hadn’t moved. Andi sipped her coffee--too hot, she pushed it to mid-table. "Hello? Ramirez?" she grinned, she waved a hand before his face.
        He blinked and gave a huge sigh. "Will you put that in writing and sign it?" he asked politely.
        "Sure. Why?" returned Andi.
        Ramirez blinked again. "It's in direct opposition to what we’ve been told. I was at a meeting where it was claimed you were harassing them."
        "Harassing them?" queried Andi as innocently as she could pull off. "How could we be harassing them if we haven't had contact."
        "No contact whatsoever?" he demanded.
        Andi looked directly into his eyes. "Lena drove by the various offices and company locations. She went as far as confirming that the various companies were at those addresses. She took photos, but I've seen them. All exteriors from across the street. We did nothing more objectionable than that...nothing. Why would they even have our name?"
        "You have a contract to investigate them?"
        Andi could see where this lead. "A contract to investigate what they’re doing." she hedged. "But still we haven't made any contact with anybody in the company, or their suppliers or clients."
        "If you were me, would you find that believable?" With a monotone backhand, he drove the ball down the line with lots of spin.
        "Since you know me. Yes," she lied, struggling to keep a straight face. The return was a lame-duck that barely popped over.
        Ramirez gave a sour smile and sipped his coffee. His eyes burned through her facade and seemed to examine the scratches on the wall behind her chair. "Max won't believe it." he finally replied without easing from his stone-faced persona.
        Andi gave a warm, insincere smile accompanied by a shrug. There was nothing to be gained from opening her mouth.
        Ramirez gave her a two bar opening she didn't take advantage of, then changed the subject. "So what did you get from Judith-Anne Chapman. I assume you had a better experience than us."
        Andi raised her eyebrows at that admission, then shook her head. "Actually no. I called, but she never called back. When another source substantiated that Riparian was the focus of the DEQ investigation I let it slide. I was looking for her and Delgatto was to confirm my client's story." She favored Ramirez with a sad smile, as if yearning for the friendship they'd once held dear.
        Ramirez rolled his eyes and coughed. "Do you think Riparian was involved in any of the murders, then or now?" A softball question if there ever was one.
        "I've no real evidence that points in that direction...all I have is the suspicions of people with axes to grind." She let her smile brighten by about seventy-five watts. "Want that in writing too?" she asked beaming as helpfully as she could.
        He looked down to the table, avoiding eyes as if to give her privacy. "What's your gut feeling about it." he idly turned his mug this way and that with his finger tips, only at long last looking up from the mug to her eyes.
        Andi paused to weigh the options. "I think Riparian snuffed all of them."
        "Based on?" Ramirez was prepared for her answer.
        "Female intuition?" she grinned her silly grin again. "Their security firm is like another subsidiary. It hires ex-cons exclusively, some of them are hard core and has precious few clients beyond the family."
        "You told me that before and I had somebody look into them. On the surface Riparian seems like a responsible company."
        "You wanted gut feelings." Andi complained. "My guts say that there's something really wrong there." She shrugged and looked into her coffee as if her feelings were hurt.
        "I'll pass it along to Max." Ramirez' stretched a kink from his shoulders. "I still might need that denial of contacting Riparian on paper, but I'll bet nobody wants to start a file on the subject." He grinned at her, evidently back to his friendly self.
        "Now tell me," Andi complained loudly, "was this worth disrupting my day and dragging me down here?"
        Ramirez grinned sheepishly. "Gee, it worked for me. Out of the office and coffee with a friend paid for by my boss." He slouched down in his chair, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Tanya is talking about changing from fried wontons to wonton soup. Lena doesn't have special diet requirements does she?" The twist of his lips betrayed a sort of concerned distaste.
        "No pork for me, no eggplant for her, no okra for either of us." Andi smiled a friendly smirk. "And none of us need the fat of fried anything."
        He replied with a nod as he slurped the last of his coffee. "What's today, Wednesday?" He rose to his feet and hefted his empty mug as if judging how much glass was in it. "I don't suppose you have another lead for Max?" He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. It gave him the look of an inquisitive owl.
        "How much trouble are you interested in risking?" Andi looked defiantly into his face.
        "Try me." he grinned.
        "The whitewash committee was chaired by Robert Hyde..."
        Ramirez stared back mutely--it took almost a minute or more for the grin to slowly drain from his face. "That might be a bit much." he admitted a bit hoarsely.
        Andi let him stand another minute, wondering if he was going to ask her again. "Did you know that Riparian has enough stockpiled arms to take on a third-world country." She gave a little shrug and looked away.
        "Is that an educated guess?" He leaned back his head as if trying to get her in focus.
        "It's educated hearsay..."
        "Any chance of learning your source?" He scratched his ear thoughtfully.
        "I don't really know it for sure, do I?" she responded uncomfortably. "I'll try to come up with something else for Max, but slip him the Robert Hyde thing...it'll drive him crazy." An mocking grin split her face and she chuckled. "I can imagine him with a hot lead he doesn't dare do anything about."
        Ramirez stared at her for the space of three four-beat bars shaking his head in disapproval, his lips pursed as if holding back comment. "Tanya would like to push getting together ahead from five or so to three. It'll give more time for games." He waved thoughts of Max away with his open hand. "Until then." he turned and walked to the door without looking back.
        Andi watched him until he was out of sight, then slowly finished her coffee, trying not to think about Riparian.
        

        At workday's end, Lena and Andi grabbed their coats and cellphones and locked up. They'd cleaned the office without exchanging a word, then drove just as quietly to Andi's mother's. Andi let them in with her key and called out at the door.
        "Hi Mom...it's Andi."
        "And Lena." Lena added in beat.
        "In here." Nancy Fishburne called from the bedroom. She was sitting beside the bed in an occasional chair, but rose and moved to the foot of the bed.
        "Hi Mom." Andi's voice suddenly choked. She leaned forward and gave her mom a long kiss on her cheek.
        Her mother was weaker still, hands now bird-like claws, her cheeks sunken, her color a brownish yellow from jaundice. "It's good to see both of you." She smiled painfully from Andi to Lena. a steady drip from the IV continued. The little bottle with the pills still waited on the table beside the bed.
        "Nancy takes good care of me. She said you'd talked."
        "We talked this morning." Andi croaked awkwardly, licked her lips, then, "Do you want anything? Shall I call Cinny?" she sidetracked, eyes opened wide. She had a sudden anxious need to make up for every slight or lack or selfish thought she'd let slip in her entire life.
        Mrs. Wicksham tried to shake her head, but settled for whispering "No. I told them my prognosis when I was down there. I didn’t want to tell her how close. Call her after." She smiled. Dying isn't very difficult." she winced from some pain and it took a moment for her eyes to clear, "It seems natural. My body knows what to do without trying." She coughed and smiled weakly.
        "Mom. I love you." Andi said, then she ran out of words. Tears welled in her eyes and she fought an urge to run off and cry.
        "Remember last winter when I'd go off and walk along the beach." She looked up at Andi as if willing her to understand.
        "After you knew." Andi whispered, she tried to smile.
        "It took a while to understand that this wasn't being done to me and I'm not doing it to you. It's just part of life, like sunsets."
        Andi chewed at her lip, wanting to cradle her mother in her arms like her mother had once cradled her.
        Lena squeezed Andi's hand. Andi took her mother's. They stood that way long enough for the rest of the world to be lost.
        "Nancy says I'll go into a coma that may last a few hours or days. If it goes longer than days I expect you to do something to help me." Her face was suddenly etched with concern. "I don't want you to call Cinny until after I die. Please, she'd try to save me."
        It took all Andi could do to nod.
        “I’ve arranged for a simple cremation without embalming. You and Cinny can arrange a memorial...but do it at a park or something, OK?”
        Andi swallowed hard.
        Mrs. Wicksham pursed her lips like she used to do when about to give a defining statement. "And I don't want you waiting by my bedside all that time. The strain will make your sick. Lena." She spoke sternly and searched Lena's face. "Lena, don't let her. She'll want to put everything else on hold, but I want my legacy to be that life is for living. Not sitting shiva." A day or two of mourning is OK. Say Kiddish once or twice, but there's too much grieving in the world already."
        Andi and Lena nodded solemnly. Andi's mother peered over to see where Nancy was, then looked up and whispered, "Come closer. Both of you."
        Lena and Andi hovered over her face and she whispered. "Instead of grieving, make love in my memory." She blushed underneath her jaundice and suddenly waved them away as if in embarrassment.
        Andi looked over to Nancy, but if she’d heard she hid it, looking out the window as if that were everything in her world.
        "Now I'm very, very tired." Mrs. Wicksham wheezed and seemed to collapse into the pillow. "I hope to see both of you again, but if I don't. Remember I love you and what I’ve asked. Goodbye." Tears appeared under her eyes and followed the furrowed wrinkles past her cheeks.
        Lena squeezed Andi's fingers before released them and slipping out of the room. Andi stood awkwardly, waiting hopelessly, glancing from her mother to Lena's retreating form.

Her mother, shook her head slightly with an indulgent half-frown, "You've always clung. Go on now. Your life's with her." she smiled, then shut her eyes in dismissal. Andi reached a finger to touch her cheek and silently left the room. Tears that ran down her cheeks until they were almost home.

        Thursday morning, their clock radio went off at seven thirty and they listened to morning news. Finally Lena stretched, rolled out of bed, grabbed some clothes and stumbled toward the kitchen. "I'm putting on water. What do you want for breakfast?"
        Andi pulled a pillow over her head instead of answering. She'd woken from a dream of camping with her mother who nagged unrelentingly about everything, making her feel incompetent. In the dream she was angry and frustrated, but waking drowned her in shame as yesterday’s image of her mother overlaid itself.
        “Let’s go out.” Her stomach knotting, Andi leapt from bed and stood in a shower as hot as she could endure. Right now, she wanted out of the apartment. She needed work for distraction, needed tasks for her hands and problems for her mind. Anywhere but home was OK.
        Throwing on clothes, Andi grabbed both cellphones, tossed Lena her coat and herded her out the door. They drove off, Lena draped with her coat and tying her shoes in the car.


        Lena chatted about painting their apartment. Andi focused on business, purposefully crowding out everything else. It had become a strange investigation; they hadn't contacted Riparian’s companies. She usually erred on the side of impulsiveness. Despite Ramirez’s warning maybe they'd been too tentative. Maybe it was wasting Armando's money to pussyfoot around as if Riparian was a federal building about to explode.
        Lena discussed wall paper and Andi nodded at more or less the right moments, but she didn’t bother paying attention. If Robert Hyde was involved, the murders rose from an interesting footnote to a politically sensitive crisis. Hyde was an establishment figure aiming for the US Senate or Governorship. The best scenario would be his simply signing a report cranked out by some staff member on the take.
        Hyde was a major league social Darwinist, she couldn't wait to see how Riparian and its executives played it’s big money role in Hyde's politics. She finished her waffle and watched until Lena swallowed her last bite. "Ready to go?" she asked impatiently.
        "Work?" Lena teased, she leaned her head sideways and grinned mischievously. "Maybe we should discuss our vacation in BC..."
        "Have we decided?”
        "I got brochures." Lena continued to look sideways, her smile inviting.
        "We don't have time."
        "But no, ma cheré." Lena whispered in a husky French accent. "I've taken the liberty to block out a whole week; three weeks from now. It’s been discussed with our loyal regulars. Sonny'll come in a few hours a day to check the mail and phone our excuses and you and I will sleep in exotic Canadian beds."
        "There’s too much going on." Andi dismissed with a shrug, rising to her feet.
        "Armando’s job will be over." she didn't mention Andi's mother, but the certainty of her life being over as well hummed like the silence of an intensive care unit.
        "Can we discuss it later?" asked Andi through tight lips. She pulled bills from a pocket and reached for the check.
        "Sure." demurred Lena, gathering sweater and bag. She followed a step behind as Andi headed for the register.
        Once outside, Andi said, "What I mean is...I'm sorry I'm uptight."
        "I'm sorry too." Lena nodded, but then she looked away uncomfortably, staring into the storefront window.
        Andi swallowed. There was no sense to responding. She stepped away and straightened her spine feeling as distant and barren as the quiet craters of the moon.
        Lena swung back, "Your life is stressful." she observed neutrally. "Bad timing..." she mumbled to herself as she jerked away. Her lips and cheeks puckered with concern, her jaw set. She led resolutely down the sidewalk, upstairs and to their office door.
        Their office’s door stood open a couple of inches, a splinter of wood from the jamb jutted inward, the striker plate ripped loose and laying three feet into the room, no doubt propelled by a beefy shoulder.
        As they stood in shock, their phone started ringing. Lena pushed the door with a finger tip. It swung halfway, open only to stop abruptly. The office was in shambles. Andi's computer monitor lay on the floor, its screen shattered, desk drawers had been pulled out and emptied, the pending box’s files dumped and trampled. Filing cabinets had been emptied by handfuls into a pile two feet high. The boxes of both computers were significantly absent, cords to keyboards and monitors left dangling.
        The phone kept ringing. Andi caught Lena's eye and shrugged the question. Lena shook her head and looked back to the mess. The ringing stopped and their answering machine whirred. It was Bodega asking about going out for coffee.
        "We'll call Ramirez from downstairs." Lena grimaced. She reached with the lip of her bag to catch the knob to pull it closed, but stopped when Andi pointed at the feet and legs taped together, lying almost out of sight behind the door.
        It was Armando, on his side, arms behind him--laying as Jimmy and Lamar had been found except for the three-foot wide, puddle of clotting blood below his head. Andi was so sure he was dead she didn't even check his pulse. There was a red-brown smudge on a throw rug and a few bloody, half footprints as if one of the killers had inadvertently stepped in Armando's blood and, before leaving, wiped it off on the rug. Armando’s eyes were open, as if in surprise, face badly cut and bruised.
        "I'll stay here. You run." Andi directed as she turned to inventory the damage. Lena turned and ran without answering.
        Andi surveyed the room quickly. She had to make the best of these next few minutes, they'd be chased off until forensic dusted and poked and Max riffled their files for as many hours he could reasonably budget. She felt strangely detached with a slight tingling behind her forehead and the sensation of almost floating off the floor.
        There was no blood splattered on the walls so he’d been on floor when shot. Carefully avoiding the blood, she peered close enough to see the pores of his skin--obvious superficial trauma, one ear torn and bleeding, an eye swollen to almost closed. The small round hole behind his ear showed a blue grey halo as if from powder from the gun being held close. The exit wound was on the underside, out of sight. There no doubt as to cause of death, a low-powered, small caliber target round point-blank to the base of the brain.
        She clasped her fingers together behind her back against temptation and surveyed the room starting at the forced dead-bolt, sweeping walls and ceiling, window frame and closet door. Only then did she cover the floor, trying to figure what order things were searched. Her desk's debris made up the first layer of detritus, then the file cabinet, then the boxes from the closet. Things seemed dumped more as punishment than search. She restrained herself from digging for that featureless Riparian file they'd kept as a decoy.
        Lena's unplugged keyboard lay in the congealing puddle. Its top was free of blood--that meant it was already on the floor before Armando was shot which implied they’d searched while he was still alive. Andi felt she was falling through the floor and the earth, falling forever.


        Max himself arrived with the second batch of cops. Ramirez didn't show for another twenty minutes. She and Lena were shooed away from the office and body and gruffly invited to talk in the door handle-less back seat of a patrol car.
        Andi refused, suggesting a table at the Cup and Saucer, but Lena pinched her arm, shot an angry glare and took on the task of giving their statement.
        Ramirez offered the back seat of his unmarked car and gave Max his personal word that they weren't going to flee.
        It took the Medical Examiner only a quarter of an hour after that to arrive; mid-morning must be their slow shift. The forensics team milled outside, on the cordoned off sidewalk, impatient to get on with photos and prints and God knows what else. With them was a goodly crew of uniforms and three or four plainclothed officers serving as "back up" and overly inflated by the prestige of seeming official.
        Max stayed upstairs until Armando's body was removed in a brown plastic body bag. With the main attraction removed, the forensics team swept in and most of the hob-nobbers drifted off to coffee breaks.
        Max and Ramirez emerged shoulder to shoulder, talking to each other without breaking stride.
        He slid behind the wheel and snapped off the radio. "I offered to get personal statements, but he's insisting I haul you down. I suspect he going to ruin your day, so I told him you needed something from home..."
        "What?" asked Lena perkily, it seemed she almost was enjoying the experience.
        "I implied sanitary napkins, that usually sets cops like Max on their heels, but between you and me, you need a pocket-full of snacks and a decent paperback." He looked back over the seat with a look of disgusted frustration. "One of you want to sit in front? It looks less funny."
        Andi slid out and opened the front door. Glancing up to their office window, she could see the cops, holding something between them.
        Hiding the case’s files and their back up disks had been a better idea than she’d thought. Even more than keeping things from Riparian, Max and his minions would get nothing as they rummaged through the leavings.
        "Can I have a page from your notebook?" Lena leaned forward and poked Andi's shoulder. "I need to make a list."
        Lena already had a pen in her hand. "Insurance coverage, replace computers, fix door, move our dead files out of the closet." She scribbled fast.
        "What's left of the dead files." quipped Andi.
        "Probably should hire Sonny to help put things back in order. We’ll need the office phones switched to our apartment. I need to phone Francois, they probably have Armando’s cell phone."
        Ramirez broke in as he spun the corner off Hawthorne. "Andi...you're using cellphones? You took a solemn oath not to ruin your life?"
        There was a moment of silence. Finally Andi said, "I've been railroaded into it. They’re still an invention of the devil."
        “Yeah...” murmured Ramirez, "Whose Adol..."
        "Beside Armando, they trashed the office!" Lena interrupted strategically. "Max is going to have to let us in to tell him what’s missing. I'll give three to one that they wore gloves."
        "It won't immediately occur to Max that he'll need to let you in." Ramirez responded in a deadpan.
        "I suppose you won't offer an estimate on how long they'll keep us out?" Andi raised an eyebrow.
        Ramirez shrugged and snorted, "Usually hours or the rest of the day. Usually by the end of a shift. But since it's you, I suspect it could take until Monday or Tuesday."
        Lena groaned from the back seat. "I've got bookkeeping to do. Can I get the files and check messages?"
        Ramirez glanced over his shoulder to catch Lena's eye. "Max won't release anything now."
        "Ask him for me." demanded Lena.
        Andi chewed her lip and sat stonily against the door the rest of the drive, darting glances from Lena to Ramirez. Lena was sharp, they'd want into the office for something--good thing to lay groundwork.
        They picked up books and snacks and drove to the Eastside Policing Center where they sat in separate small rooms until five that evening, their silent meditations interrupted time and time again by a thin-faced officer in street clothes demanding answers. He was contemptuous of the short, simple statements on finding the break-in and body, then promptly phoning the authorities.
        Books and snacks were good advice. Andi reviewed all the Riparian entries in her notebook, jotting down a page and a half of questions before putting up her feet, tilting her chair back and taking out her paperback.
        Just minutes before five they were brought out for a sullen lecture by Max. Evidently he'd gotten nothing from searching their office. "I know for a fact that you have knowledge of the murders you aren’t tell me. Make no mistake, withholding that knowledge is a felony I'm going to hang you with." He stared icily at them and pulled the cuffs of his shirt until the gold cufflinks gleamed at the edges of the coat cuffs. "Don't leave the city without notifying my office. And don't talk with anybody...the press foremost. The smartest thing you could do is quit playing it cute and tell me what you know."
        He leaned forward, caught their eyes and lowered his voice as if trying to gain their confidence. "I don't believe you killed your client, but the evidence could be interpreted in a way...mistakes like that happen all the time. Do I make myself clear?"
        Lena chirped a friendly "Sure Officer Max." beaming him as warm a smile as any policeman had known in decades.
        He winced at the demotion, but didn't correct her.
        Andi stood stone-faced, staring at a smudge on the wall beyond Max's shoulder, biting her tongue to keep from asking if they could pass GO and collect two-hundred dollars. She wasn't going to give him satisfaction even if she had to spend the night in that room.
        They were driven back to their car and given a warning not to enter the office. Andi looked up at the dark windows wondering how the office door was secured. The officer giving the ride lingered to make sure they didn't go find out.
        They drove home and Andi called Francois to pass on the news. Tired and burnt out at this point, she blurted Armando’s death without floundering for a tactful approach. After a shocked moment of silence he gave a throaty, clench-jawed growl and hung up. That night, Lena didn't bother to set the alarm--without an office, who cared if they slept in?





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