Cafe Underground Presents
River Of Lawyers
Book 1 -- Chapters 10
The Detective Andi Wicksham Series, by RL Bell
Copyright © 1997 RL BELL
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....author RL Bell
Andi Wicksham's INVESTIGATORY SERVICES
Chapter 10
Saturday evening went smoothly, the restaurant was warm and only half-full because of the snow. Bodega arrived first despite Andi coming a few minutes early. She found him just inside, his overcoat across his arm, waiting for the waiter, in a golden-brown shirt and bolo tie under a purple brocade vest--loud, but certainly not too far out considering it was Hawthorne, but at odds with Andi's subdued turtleneck and scarf.
They opted for glasses of the better merlot and nibbled on baguettes as they listened to the evening's specials. Bodega ordered the fettuccine with smoked salmon--Andi chose the Caesar salad, "...to leave room for desert..." She smiled as he bantered with the waiter over the pronunciation of pfannkuchen, which neither of them were ordering.
They talked amicably--he skied occasionally, she never; she liked football, he was neutral to spectator sport. He was good to his word of not talking business, though it was all Andi could do to keep from crashing headlong through the promise and grilling him on why he thought Ibbe and Drexler were the most likely suspects.
Their food came. They talked politics and shared barbed comments on public figures. Not surprising--they agreed on issues and both donated time to Sisters Of The Road. The plates were cleared and they ordered dessert.
"I listen to rock and roll...mostly old stuff." Bodega admitted a bit shyly as he sipped coffee. "Retro..."
"KMHD, jazz..." Andi smirked as she lifted a bite of chocolate decadence with her fork. "I read mysteries and spy novels."
"Mysteries?" Bodega lifted an eyebrow, "Gumshoe busman's holiday..?" It was his turn to smirk. "Most of my reading's nonfiction, but I do good pulp friends push on me."
"Sue Grafton or Lawrence Block?"
"Yeah." He was noncommittal.
"How about the Easy Rawlins series by Walter Mosely."
"One of 'em...I liked it I guess...but I end up feeling guilty that I've wasted time. I like weird characters more than pretty prose--I guess that's working class."
"Seems normal..." Andi offered, "...for a workaholic."
Bodega sipped his decaf, his eyes sparkled. Andi smiled and used her fork to scratch cross-hatched designs in the last of the raspberry sauce that had painted her hazelnut-chocolate torte.
"My parents were professionals," she said, looking over Bodega's head to the wall beyond. "My dad an engineer and my mom a political science prof at Reed. I was raised with Emma Goldman, Mother Jones, civil rights and Vietnam."
"Yeah?" Bodega chuckled. "My grandmother was a labor organizer during the thirties..." he blushed, "My father a liberal and my mother a progressive Republican... I didn't have a Chance..."
"Progressive Republican..." Andi chortled. "God..."
"Hey...what do you know? There used to be such an animal..a lot of things have gone extinct. Progressive social values wrapped up in small business and apple pie..."
"Country club conservative?" Andi queried--she couldn't keep the smile from her face.
"Well yeah, of course...her dad was a doctor and could afford to be progressive. They deplored the problems of cities and class...just from the other side."
"Well they weren't very effective..." Andi chastised.
"Neither was the labor movement..." Bodega met her eyes levelly. A silence descended upon them.
Suddenly Bodega's face lightened. "And people wonder why progressives fight...look at us."
Andi picked up her coffee cup and offered a toast. "Ever hear the difference between patriotism and nationalism?"
"Tell me..." Bodega flourished his cup and touched rims.
"Patriots care about symbols and ideology like the flag and free market crap while nationalists care about people and the land."
"Well that's simplistic..." Bodega snorted.
"So what do you want for a one sentence after dinner rendering of American politics?" Andi shook her head in mock reproach.
"This is fun, isn't it..." Bodega smiled across the table as the waiter brought the check.
"Sure..." Andi said guardedly. Suddenly she was cautious of having too good a time; they'd stayed long after dinner and dessert. It took but a minute to split the check and leave an ample tip--mutually agreeing to get in contact early in the week. Andi still had questions she needed to ask, but standing at the door wasn't the time or place and to go somewhere else after dinner would make it too much like a date.
They lingered outside the door in the cold and exchanged a chaste brother-sister hug, slowly parting and saying goodby.
Just a that moment Rhonda and Letti walked up. Andi and Bodega blocked the doorway--there was no way they could be tactfully ignored.
"...going out or coming in..." Letti queried.
"Rhonda, Letti...this is Ramone Bodega...a business associate." Andi established uneasily. "...leaving..." It was awkward. "So how are you anyway? Jason OK?" Jason, Rhonda's son had been kicked out of school for fighting.
"All's quiet on the western front..." Laughed Rhonda. "I'm changing jobs next week...thank God." Letti was studying Bodega and looking quizzically at Andi.
Bodega stood to as side, quietly watching with an amused smile. Andi felt awkward and wanted to get away before Letti started teasing.
Rhonda opened the door and she and Letti went inside.
"Old friends..." observed Bodega.
"Sorry..." Andi apologized--had Bodega picked up disapproving vibes or was she just paranoid?
"Everybody's got old friends..." he offered. "Well...it's cold...we'll talk..." he turned half-around.
"Yeah, first of the week..." Andi promised, then she spun on her heel hoping Rhonda and Letti would see them walking off in opposite directions.
Andi kicked at a chunk of snow, sending it crumbling off into the gutter. If Bodega was paid by Morse to get on her good side Morse was getting his money's worth, but if he thought he could influence her he would be sadly mistaken.
The biggest chink in Bodega's credibility was his defense of Morse--that was big enough to drive a truck through. Morse loomed in the background wherever she looked.
The snow was still falling, even heavier now, it was getting late, she was ready for a warm shower and dry book. Skiers could course Mount Tabor trails and steep hilly parks tomorrow. Snow seldom lasted very long in Portland, the cold would inevitably be nudged aside by rain.
Bryant's disappearance could wait--it would be nice to turn the heat up for Sunday morning sipping coffee on the phone. Oatmeal with apples for breakfast, maybe walk through snow for a Sunday paper. Sunday afternoon would be music at Brighten's. Tracy seemed far behind.
Monday morning the snow was still layered everything like a holiday card picture. Lena was in the office working before Andi trudged the repainted stairwell at eight twenty-five. Bobby and his friends had finished the painting, but the walls looked barren without their posters and smelled of damp newness. She'd have to talk to her neighbors about returning some color to the place. Andi mused and reached for the knob.
"My, you're here early..." Andi chirped as she came in, she stripped off her coat, sank in her chair and reached to strip off her boots.
"`Why not?' I told myself. The tension was as friendly as a split lip and lying by someone I didn't want to talk to was boring...coffee's made..." Lena shrugged and took a sip from her cup.
"Oh..." Andi considered the wisdom of asking questions and decided that allowing the office to be a sanctuary was the wisest way to go--besides, she didn't really want to wade into Lena's domestic misery. The weekend had been blissfully quiet and the morning spent pleasantly puttering. "I haven't given a thought to work since meeting with Bodega." It wasn't strictly true, but at she certainly hadn't worried about it.
"So how'd your date with Ramone go?"
Andi glanced across, did Lena know about dinner? "Our meeting... We walked around Tabor with his dog named Raoul as the snow began falling. He knows all sorts of environmental stuff...makes me feel naive."
"And...?" Lena asked, she cocked her head to a side and looked up encouragingly.
"And what?" Andi replied defensively.
"...so what do you think about him?" Lena pushed. "A friend of a friend of mine knows Bodega..."
"A friend of a friend of yours knows Bodega?" Andi inwardly winced and recoiled. Did Lena already know about their dinner?
"They say he's OK..."
"So?" Andi wasn't going to fall for it.
"So...the rumor mill has it that he thinks you're neat."
"Lena...I'm not interested. Get it through your head..." Andi snapped. "...I've never had a boyfriend in my life."
"Well...honoring diversity..." Lena's smirk leaked out of her attempt at dead-pan.
Andi shot her an icy look.
Lena looked at her nails, "So what do you think about him professionally?"
Andi looked her right in the eye and recited, "He was helpful, but I still suspect him of working for Morse...the way he defends him makes me suspicious." With that, Andi turned away and busied herself shuffling files. The morning had come far too early and she was at a loss about where to begin.
"Is that all...you going to talk again? Going to go to dinner?" Lena got up to pour more coffee.
That last comment was too close--she must have heard. Andi confronted her, beckoning the truth with a little inward wave of her hand. "What's this you're doing Lena, pushing me to go straight or something? What are you...my mother?"
"So are you going to talk again? Want a cup?" Lena held up both mugs.
Andi rolled her eyes and nodded `yes' to the coffee. "...we're going to talk on the telephone sometime next week..." She admitted the last grudgingly. She wasn't going to admit going out to dinner.
"You know it was really painful to admit to myself that I'm bi." Lena pushed.
"Lena...why are you doing this?" Andi shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I'm satisfied being a lesbian...I've been one all my life...thank you very much."
"You know it was harder to come out as bi than as a dyke..." Lena sank into her chair, looked up to the ceiling and mused philosophically. "You risk loosing your supportive subculture and identity, you get rejected by everybody."
"Are you letting down your hair or trying to make a conversion?" Andi set her cup down a little too hard, the cup made a "thwack" and coffee splashed over her files. "Damn..."
"Just seems natural to be attracted to both..."
"Lena..." Andi was getting mad. "I'm not...to tell the truth I'm far more attracted to you than to him..." The comment sprang from her mouth without warning, Andi abruptly shut her mouth and felt herself blush.
Lena looked over and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry. It just kind of slipped out..." Andi apologized defensively.
"Hmmmmmmm...?" Lena said quietly. She turned back to her work and the room grew suddenly silent.
Andi wanted to put her head down on her desk. She'd said it and felt like a fool. Bodega was a nice friend for a man...it was healthy to have friends...and Lena was still in a relationship... a rocky relationship maybe, but still. And that dinner with Bodega had been innocent.
She got a sponge and dabbed at the spilled coffee. It was time to buckle down to work; Morse would phone this morning and there were things she needed to get done first.
She'd tell him about her lack of success with Bryant's clients. Bryant's all but invisible personal life was another uncracked mystery. Why had Morse and Chang-Turner been silent while paying her to discover what they knew. And the sanitizing of his office and home--what was she to make of that?
She reached for the phone and dialed Ramirez. He was sitting at his desk.
"Made any headway on Bryant?" She asked after their preliminary exchange.
"Two witnesses saw people down at the boat house about that time." he said matter of factly.
"Kind of late to appear, eh?" Andi perked up and reached for her pencil. "How come you missed them before?"
"Both say there were three men and a woman looking out at the boats from the boat house--one witness saw them unlock the door."
"Three men and a woman?" Andi jotted the notes. "Tall or short, anything distinguishing? What was the woman wearing? Did anyone took photos at the party?"
"Photos...? That's a good idea Wicksham, I'll bring it up with the Lieutenant. Red dress dark hair, men in business suits. It was a while ago--they were out of town until last Wednesday ...it's not like any of this seemed important at the time."
"They must have known when the police were called to the boat house." Andi was incredulous.
"They say they left at ten...no one saw them go...what can I say? It's more than we had before..."
"...you think they were put up to it?" Andi thought of Morse.
"You know Wicksham...you're a very suspicious person. Why would you jump to such a conclusion?" Ramirez sounded genuinely concerned.
"Just jumpy, I guess. I see Morse behind every corner. Am I going to get the witnesses names?" She bounced her pencil eraser on her pad of paper.
"Not just now...but I'll see what I can do."
"Oh come on Ramirez...I got nothing else to go on." Andi pleaded half-heartedly.
"Sorry...I have to clear it with Max...it's a political thing...just the way it is..."
"Yeah, yeah. Thanks. How about Bryant's estate?"
"Yeah..." Ramirez shuffled through some papers. "He left his body to science and the bulk of his estate to some sister in New Hampshire. Max is tracking her down. The practice reverts to Templeton and Morse."
"Bank accounts...investments?" Andi asked.
"Not yet..." Ramirez attention was straying.
"Do you have anything on Sandra Chang-Turner?" Andi asked hopefully.
"Nothing that makes her stand out."
"I've heard rumors that she might have been involved with Bryant in blackmailing his clients..."
"Blackmail?" Ramirez perked up.
"Well, that's the problem...the reported payoff was in legal fees and the like." Andi said in a hopeless voice.
"That's as good as nothing at all...without a complainant we can't get started and to complain the victim would implicate himself in Bryant's disappearance...thanks for the help."
"Don't mention it..." Andi said sarcastically. "Some of Bryant's clients hate his guts real bad."
"If you give me the list it'll make some people very happy." he wheedled.
"Consider it yours. You'll look into getting me the witnesses?"
"Sure..."
"How about Lon Lively?" She asked casually.
"Fired employee relates hostile rumors he doesn't repeat to the police...big zip, Wicksham...why? ...do you believe him?" Ramirez used a keg of sarcasm.
"I didn't say I did." Andi said defensively. "I've thought from the first he might be set up by Morse. I'm grasping at straws...you doing better?"
"Naw...I guess not. So Tanya still brings up your name. How about Wednesday evening? Short and sweet...dinner and you're out the door a couple hours later?" Ramirez cajoled.
"You're on...what'll I bring?"
"Bring..? Tanya'd be insulted." Ramirez feigned shock. "Beer or pretzels or candy...that'll be enough."
"OK...you got it. Six thirty?"
"Fine, fine...got to go...catch ya..." he hung up.
Andi looked down at the note. Three men and a woman--assume one was Bryant. Chang-Turner and Drexler's boys? Ibbe and friends removing an hurdle? Drexler, woman colleague and thug? Red dress--flashy for business, but it was a party. She wished she'd gotten the witnesses' names--maybe Ramirez would come through.
She'd look into Bryant's friend. She paged back through her notebook--Samuel Lee. The phone book gave an S. Lee at the right address. Bingo--that wasn't hard.
Andi copied it into her notes and punched the keys.
No answer. Andi looked across the desk, shut her eyes and picked a folder at random--time to look at it all again.
Luckily the phone rang to interrupt her--Morse.
"Are you ready to talk to Mr. Lively?" asked Morse, his voice was matter fact, soft and casual.
"...ready." Andi visualized his `other team' coordinating with cell phones on a conference call, using code and unmarked cars. She wondered how hard-core they were and again why it was he hired her. "I wanted to talk to you later..." Andi said.
"Now?" Morse asked quietly.
"It can wait..." .
"Then we'll talk later." Morse responded. "Do you have the cash?"
"...I didn't want it around...I figured he'd expect me to have to get it." Was he implying she wasn't prepared?
Andi hung up and dialed Lively's number. Lena watched wide-eyed from across the room.
When the phone rang Lively was listening to talk radio turned loud and had to turn it down before he could hear.
"Our client wants two particular files..." Andi mimicked Morse's dry monotone. "...State of Oregon versus Maybon, something about sewage and public hazard...and Temptation Development versus Urth."
"OK...let me get a pen...Oregon versus Maybon? ...and... Temptation Development-v-Urth?"
"He'll go seven-fifty a page." Andi added.
"Eight..." Lively bargained.
Andi gave him an exasperated sigh. "I'm not the one to argue with. Seven-fifty. That's what he said."
"When..?"
"He's in a hurry...make it soon." She figured that sounded short and sweet.
"I've got to get them..." Lively said.
And make a copy. Andi thought to herself. "So how long does that take...this afternoon....tomorrow?"
"Uh...tomorrow...I'll call..." He sounded like that was sooner than he wanted.
"Tomorrow morning." Andi stated flatly.
"We'll see..." Lively said resentfully. "Anything else?"
"Do you know any other ex employees I could talk to?" And figured it never hurt to try.
"I think I could find somebody...maybe..." He hung up without saying a word.
Andi phoned Morse back.
"He's got the message..." Andi stated flatly.
There was a pause before Morse responded. "I'm monitoring them on another line," he finally said. "Lively's made another phone call after talking to you...now he's leaving the house and getting in his car..."
Andi wondered if Morse's "other team" had used an illegal wire tap or legally matched Lively's wireless frequency.
"He's driving...OK, Ms. Wicksham, what is it that you wanted to discuss?" Morse seemed to have given up on following the boring part of the chase.
"I wondered what you thought of me looking into an employee.."
"Sandra Chang-Turner?" Morse asked immediately.
"Primarily..." Andi didn't want to pin it down.
Morse seemed to take an extra second to consider his answer. "I've initiated a check into our financial records...that will overlap onto her relationship with Bryant and his clients. Are you focusing on the blackmail angle?"
"...and the possibility of others in your firm being involved..."
"Is Lively your source?" he asked bluntly.
"...ex-employees..." Andi hoped the vagueness sounded pregnant with meaning and hoped Morse wouldn't ask "who?"
"Is there anything else...?" The jerked inflection betrayed a terseness.
"I'm having trouble accessing Bryant's clients and the vaguest detail of his personal life." She quickly decided honesty was the best strategy, Morse probably knew what her limits were.
"Looking into his finances will help...I'll keep you apprised...I'd like you to continue what you're doing. There's this thing with Lively to follow...I want you to continue your relationship with him."
Andi stared up into the cheap overhead light fixture deciding against the “Relationship!” card. How long would he pay money her to play with the slug? Then her eyes fell with a jerk to the door across the room.
"Sure..." she said, "...you asking me to back-off on doing Chang-Turner?"
Morse paused a moment. "No..." he said carefully, "...do what you think you should...I'll give you an update mid-week, I think I can help you considerably."
Andi scribbled a note in her notebook and asked casually, "By the way...what does Sandra Ibbe look like? What color is her hair?"
"Sandra Ibbe?" Morse sounded surprised. "Medium height, brown hair off the shoulder, roman nose..."
"Light brown hair?" Andi asked.
"...dark, but not black..?" It was a question.
"Just checking out a detail, do you remember what she was wearing the night of the party?"
"No..."
"How about Chang-Turner?"
"Her clothes? I'm sorry and that was a while ago now. Anything else?"
"Nope...thanks..." Andi answered in what she hoped was a cheerful tone.
Morse hung up without a word.
Monitoring Lively...Andi shrugged--who cared? Continue the work she was doing. What?
Lena interrupted the reverie. "Andi..." she looked at her strangely. "...you OK?"
"..'course." Andi answered, "Just distracted. “What?”
"I graphed the work pattern of your last couple years and thought you might want to see." Lena smiled and waved toward her screen.
"You what'd my jobs for last years?" Andi asked impatiently.
"I graphed to show how much overlap -v- dead time you've had. See...” a pencil did a sputtered tattoo on the graphic. “You've had big gaps in your schedule...here and here, only dribbles going on...you do a job, then wait around until the next one."
"So?” Andi stared back with lidded eyes, and twist to her smile. “What you saying?" Bad direction this was going.
Those "Gaps" were her quality time; side-benefit of self-employed. It was decompression period, lying fallow before the next onslaught--she wasn't sure she wanted a life with the regularity of linoleum.
"All I'm saying is that there are these periods of slack income and low productivity...if they’re not controlled there's potential for a drought." Lena glanced to her face, then scan the room--incisive MBA, as if it was Fortune 500.
"Controlled?" There was the feeling of loosing her footing, a retreating wave sucking the sand from beneath her.
"Put it this way...do you take about every job that comes in the door?" Lena stared at Andi with a pouty smirk that would have made a sex star jealous.
"Why? She couldn't think of any job refused in a couple of years, but she wouldn't admit it.
"The point is you can do something about it..." Lena switched back to buttoned-down manager and tapped her finger at a paper lying casually beside the keyboard. "Get a flow of little jobs...more stable in the long run. Like finding that witness...and you don’t need to do it. Pot boilers." She smiled like a used car salesman with a customer whose wheels had given up at the curb.
"I don't know..." Andi had an uncontrollable urge to drag her feet and brace against being thrown. "What's to be gained? We’d need help...we don't even have another telephone for Christ's sake." The G-forces tore irresistibly, her bloody fingers gripped raw granite.
"...new telephone'll come Tuesday. This isn't anything that needs to be moved on. I just wanted you to know..” a pause “..seemed like my job."
"OK..." Andi swallowed. "No sweat. What else’s on the agenda?"
"Long-term disbursement planning...schedule anticipated cash needs and set an operating expenses draw from the top set aside to hedge unforseen crises.” Three beats counted by in silence. “..and you haven’t made checks to an insurance company so I suppose health insurance isn’t covered..."
"You didn't believe me? Well fine...something’s come of you nosing through my books." Maybe she’d back off a bit...knowing the grim dips and dives of the fiscal picture.
"...you’re barely paying rent. What if your car gorks or you break a leg for God's sake.” The deal is that this business could support you in a far better manner than it is...another few jobs overlapped on what you've done would be gravy..." Lena was on a roll.
"Gravy? What you're not saying is that the overhead of this firm went up considerably in the past few weeks and the projected balance sheet sucks. I should be surprised?" Andi was no slouch in seat-of her pants accounting. "Now you realize your benefit package is limited to the coffee you drink on the job..." She looked levelly into Lena's eyes and smiled. “What you’re saying is, you want me to bust butt so you can have a regular job?"
Lena looked back with a blank expression for the count of four. It took her that long to regroup with, "Well...as long as we agree to the baseline issues...enough for now..."
She turned back to her table. Lena knew the value of strategic retreat, Andi had to give her that.
"Where’s the Bryant thing...you working anything I should see?" Andi was willing to return to business.
"Since the papers don't have smoking guns, they might be red herrings."
"What?"
“If they're not from Bryant and not slander, maybe they're supposed to throw us off course. What would we put less time into if we got excited about them?" Lena preened, flicking a dust mite, proud of herself.
"You're going over the top. The world’s a red herring."
"Exactly..." Lena said excitedly. "What was going on when we got them."
"I don't know..." Andi grumbled resentfully, but paged backwards through the notebook. "We'd barely started...I'd contacted Bodega...Drexler's boat, the Yacht Club..."
"Drexler's boat...anything new on it?"
"Haven't heard..." Andi reached for her phone and called Ramirez. He wasn't in so she left a message.
"I'll try the coast guard." Lena was already dialing.
Andi rolled her eyes and opened Drexler’s file. Still hadn't spoken to him. She stared longingly for the phone Lena had to her ear and tapped a finger impatiently.
"No boat..." Lena announced, putting down the phone.
"Figures." Andi didn't expect the boat to have answers whether it turned up or not. Without finger prints in Bryant's own blood, it meant next to nothing. "What else you doing?"
Lena shrugged nonchalantly and checked items off an unexplained list. Andi reached to swing the phone to her desk, she was bored with boat and papers.
Samuel Lee again, but still no answer. She’d have to cash Bryant's check in case Lively called after banking hours.
Lena changed the subject without warning. “I been whittling at your backlog..." Most’s routine--no sweat...here’s a stack for you to check...I’ll cover indexing, package and assembly, you’ll have to write out the narratives...you could dictate them onto tape if you had to."
"Fine..." Andi didn't really care. "I'm going to the bank. If anything exciting happens tell 'em I'll be back in twenty minutes."
"Sure..." Lena was already reaching when the phone rang. She met Andi’s eyes and waved her to take it.
"Wicksham here..." Andi grumbled.
"It's Ramirez...what's up?"
"Oh...not much. I’d called to see if you had anything on the boat...but I got an answer."
"Want to do lunch?"
"Well actually Ramirez..." Andi began an excuse.
"You're buying, Wicksham. Consider it payment for my services."
"Yeah?" He did say he'd try to get the witnesses names and she promised Ibbe's clients. "I’m buying?"
“Max figures to attribute it to a `confidential source.’ Unless there’s a grand jury, nobody’ll care."
"Where and when..." Andi stared at her calendar, but she knew there wasn't anything on it.
"Twelve fifteen at Papa Hayden's."
"In Sellwood?" Andi complained.
"Not far--what fifteen minutes? I’m getting a deposition from Laura Hanks at the Moreland clinic and will have to risk downtown after lunch...I'm leaving now. See you in half an hour."
"...Hanks...?" Andi asked. Where’d she hear that name?
"Acting director...hates it, but the last guy was a sleazy little businessman with a medical degree." Ramirez gave a little embarrassed cough.
Andi paused before giving up on the name. "I'm buying huh?"
"Your expense account is, I think..." he drawled sarcastically. "correcto?"
"Como no.." Andi acceded, "See you there."
She rose, pulled the envelope from her desk drawer and peeked to make sure the check was there. Then she dug out the list of Ibbe's clients and the list of software developers for good measure, took a giant step to the copier. "I'm out of here ...Ramirez, trading lunch for witnesses." She tossed the papers back on her desk.
"Fine...leave me here sweating over a hot grindstone while you meet your rowdy friend at a sordid gin mill." Lena held the back of her hand to her brow and turned in melodramatic anguish.
"Gin mill...? Please, this is gourmet...I'm shocked." Andi gave a lighthearted wave and slipped thankfully out the door.
Andi walked to the bank to cash Morse's check--she should have discussed it with Lena and logged the money into a client expense log. Oh well... She'd do it when she got back.
Andi beat Ramirez to Papa Hayden's by ten minutes--it was just before noon, they'd beaten the noon rush and she got a window table without waiting. She spent the time reading and rereading the menu and staring out the window at the slush. Papa Hayden's was another of Portland's traditions, usually good service--if sometimes snooty--tastefully crafted food and acceptable deserts.
She occupied herself pretending not to watch the couple at the next table and had just started feeling guilty about tying up the table and not ordering when Ramirez slipped in through the door.
"So, what do you want?" He asked as he sat down.
Andi didn't even have to look back at the menu. "Thai chicken breast on a roll." The woman beside them had inch long pink hair and a tongue stud, her companion was a grandmotherly type in an upper-class matron's dress complete with a matching hat and with one of those 1940's veils. They chattered away like best of friends.
"...let's see..." he held the menu out at arm's length to read it.
"Ramirez...you need reading glasses. It's a sign of middle age you know."
He gave her a stern look. "I pick 'em up Thursday." Then he softened into a chummy smile. "Last week I thought I was going blind. Happened all of sudden...don't laugh, you'll be here in just a few years..."
"Sorry..."
The waitress came and they both ordered Thai chicken sandwiches.
"Oh, Drexler's boat's turned up..." He said it casually, like an offhand comment on the weather.
"Yeah...and?" Andi prompted.
"Repainted and renamed...up in Canada, Vancouver I think. When the new owner tried to register it the US registration came up phoney and it was traced off engine numbers."
"Lucky for Drexler...Mounties find anything?"
"Nothing they think significant...the thing was repainted and everything."
"How about the people who bought it?"
"They were interviewed of course. Retired couple, civil service, no obvious connections. Seems they'd saw it and wrote a check that was cashed the next day. There's a description of the seller...short, heavy, brown hair and eyes, Canadian speech, maybe forty."
"So what are you doing?"
"They searched...powdered for prints...what should they have done Wicksham?"
"Test the bilge for blood?"
"I know they didn't cause they asked Max if he would pay for lab fees...Max's thinking...it's not going to happen." He gave her a frustrated look.
Andi shrugged, "So...witnesses?"
"I have an illicit copy of the interviewing officer's report...with two names blacked out." he pulled a few sheets of paper from an inside pocket. "I told him you were a bulldog and would inevitably find out who they were. The deal is, Max says you shouldn't contact them or the officer...you understand? He doesn't want you putting important noses out of joint."
"Thanks for nothing, Ramirez..."
He was saved from having to reply. Their food came and was set before them.
As soon as the waitress turned away Andi asked suspiciously. "Why's Max concerned?"
"It's politics...everybody there was a political contributor...politicians...business shmoozing, you know...this is a hot potato. Max is being torn down the middle and doesn't know what to do."
"The mayor was there...she's not involved is she?" Andi interest perked at the thought.
"No!" Ramirez was quietly emphatic. "There's nothing at all that points to those folks. But there are whispers of a big scandal and high-profile people are running scared. You probably already know more than anybody."
"Witnesses...?" Andi scanned the copied reports. They were paraphrased interviews, not transcripts, but the officers involved seemed thorough.
"Just promise me you won't kick up dust, OK?
"I promise..." Andi laid the papers beside her plate and looked up into Ramirez's face. "So tell me what they said."
"Both witnesses were interviewed...separately."
"Did they have different recollections?"
"Well, no...worse...the stories were so identical they must have been talking to each other--at least. It happened weeks ago and they claim to have not known it had any significance." He laughed a false, sarcastic laugh.
"Rehearsed by Morse?" Andi asked, interrupting.
Ramirez pursed his lips. "They swear nobody mentioned a thing..."
Andi shrugged. If they were married, they probably discussed it over breakfast.
"They were standing in misty rain looking out at the river deciding on whether to go home...they had a flight the next day for a vacation. It's plausible...the rain was light that evening, but nobody else at the party braved the deck to look at the boats."
The waitress brought water and Andi sipped hers while she listened.
"They say three men and woman were standing on the quay beside the boat house. They were dressed like others at the party and were looking out over the boats...it was too far away to hear anything. They pointed out over the water or at a boat or something--who knows? Then they walked to the boat house, unlocked the door and went inside. That's it..." He picked up his water glass and gestured as if giving a toast.
"Did they turn on the light?" Andi wiped the corner of her mouth.
"What light?
"The light in the boat house. Did they see it go on?"
"Didn't report it...it was a while back, you know..."
"Red dress, dark hair on the woman?"
"Yeah...men in dark business suits. It was night and misting rain...how can they remember?" Ramirez shook his head.
"Description fits both Chang-Turner and Ibbe..." Andi chuckled.
"Funny thing 'eh...Chang-turner wore maroon and Ibbe was in fuchsia." He sponged at the peanut sauce with the side of his sandwich.
"No surprise...no help."
"No nothing, Sherlock...seven other women were wearing shades of red that evening, one was Houston Light. That makes nine."
"But it could have been either of them."
"Or other people entirely. It's not like it was some private residence. The place is right on the river, down from Waterfront Park and a few blocks from a theater. How many women wore red that evening?" Ramirez pointed his finger at her. "It doesn't mean anything..." He shrugged and gave a hurt expression.
"So do you want me to look into this for you, Ramirez...?" Andi raised an eyebrow.
"Officially...not on your life. This is police business. But...if you did look into the matter and find anything, Lieutenant Max would be very grateful...not that he would ever officially know of course. This thing's some football--Investigate the murder without looking into the suspects. It sucks, Wicksham...is this anyway to run a department?"
Andi shrugged and smiled.
"Did you talk to Samuel Lee?" Ramirez asked.
"Haven't gotten a hold of him..." Andi dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "How'd you find him anyway?"
"Our new scout caught it as she reviewed the bank records...I don't know if I would have looked that closely."
"Did she interview him?"
Ramirez gave her a wry look. "No...an inspector did. Didn't find anything of interest...he knew Bryant, but not well...didn't know why he should be listed. It will probably just waste your time."
Ramirez was tired of the subject and switched to how there wasn't equality in the NBA. Andi nodded sagely and commiserated in silence. She tried to push a desert on him, but he pointed to his watch and pleaded no time.
He stood and Andi handed him the pages on Ibbe's clients and software developers. "Interesting stuff," she told him. "...even if it doesn't help your Bryant thing. Probably indictable crimes..."
"Sure, I've time for another project..." he gave a wry smile.
Andi nodded and waved him on, then paid the check and drove back to the office. Maybe Lena would like to go out for a mocha.
When she got back to the office Lena was already back from her own lunch She pointed to a pile of letters and said, "Mail came."
Andi picked up the pile. Where she was usually lucky to get a letter or two among the junk there were eleven personal looking letters. She looked at Lena.
"Could be money..." Lena smirked.
Andi opened the envelopes and laid ten checks and a hard luck letter out on her desk. "There's almost two grand in checks here." she said in amazement.
"Not surprising...you had almost thirty eight thousand in outstanding accounts." Lena said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"That much?" Andi shrieked.
"And remember we only went back two years." You did a lot of work you never got paid for...good thing you enjoyed it, 'cause you were being stiffed for what you did."
"Damn..." Andi said not quite believing it.
"We did agree to do this on a percentage didn't we?" Lena wheedled good naturedly.
"I didn't know there was that much."
"Adds up, doesn't it? Time passes quickly when you're having fun...and you thought you didn't need me." She shook her head in mock despair.
"Well I say we go out for a mocha." Andi felt expansive.
"You're buying I suppose..." Lena said dryly.
"Yeah, I guess I am. I'm betting it'll be late this afternoon at the earliest before Lively gets the report copied. Get your coat, we're going out."
It was nearly five o'clock when Lively called. The day was already darkening toward an early dusk and a cold wind rattled the office windows. Andi jumped for the telephone.
"Wicksham." It was a statement. "Lon here...I've got one of the reports you wanted, want to hear how many pages?" He chuckled to himself.
"How many?" Andi asked--after all she was getting paid to humor the man.
"Two hundred and thirty two...let's see...at seven-fifty a pop that's one thousand seven hundred and twenty five dollars. When do you want to get it?" Lively was feeling good.
"You didn't get the second file?" Andi smirked to herself and glanced out the window.
"Naw...I must have let it slip through my fingers..." He didn't seem very upset about it.
"I got to get the money...you at home?"
Lively's slightly whiny voice grated in her ear. "Just say the word, but make it soon or I'm going to dinner...I wouldn't want to miss your call."
Andi could sense him smiling.
"We'll see..." Andi didn't want to feed his smugness. "I'll call back one way or the other."
She set the phone down and took a moment to collect her thoughts. Morse would already know he'd called, probably knew what she just said on the phone. She flipped to his file and punched in the number.
"Congratulations Mr. Morse." Andi didn't see any reason to maintain the pretense of telling him what he already knew. "Shall I set up a transfer?"
"I'd prefer it was somewhere public, somewhere you could be observed. So, not a movie theater or that bar you first met him..."
"...but you want him to choose the time and place?" Had the other team cased the bar?
"Within reason...guide him if you have doubts...you've got a pushy relationship with him...he won't suspect if you object."
"Fine..." Andi paused. "...anything else?"
"No." It was a simple no, as if Morse had been asked by a waiter if he wanted more wine.
Andi called Lively back and asked him where he'd like to meet.
"You know the big Safeway on Sandy?"
Andi said, "Yes."
"There's a little deli, buy a coffee and wait. Put the money in an envelope...have it ready--don't count it out there...I trust you, I know where you work."
Andi suspected Lively seldom had the opportunity to tell anybody what to do. "How long will it take?"
"Fifteen minutes...ten if I'm lucky."
"Let's hope you're lucky..." With that the phone went dead.
Andi grumbled as she counted out the one thousand seven hundred twenty five dollars--it rankled her to have to do his bidding no matter how much money Morse paid. She recounted the bills and stuffed them into a nine by twelve envelope.
"So you think you'll come back to the office?" Lena asked. It was a practical question.
"Are you going to be here?" Andi asked in return.
"Depends...no, probably not." Lena shrugged.
"Then I'll just go on home. After talking with Lively I'll need a shower."
"Phone me if anything exciting happens." Lena asked,
"I guarantee nothing will." Andi growled as she pulled on coat and boots. She wondered if Morse was having her tailed as well as Lively.
There were three small tables with bent-wire chairs next to a glass case of sliced meats and cheese in the "deli" of the Safeway on Sandy. Andi got a small paper cup of tea and found a seat. She held the money in both hands on her lap and tried to look casual.
She looked around with what she hoped was a disinterested air. Some of the early evening shoppers poking through the aisles were Morse's other team--there to watch, pretending to pick out dinner or tomorrow's lunch meat during non-rush hours.
The best agents were those least expected; the obese woman waddling uncomfortably behind her cart, the young couple oblivious to everything but each other, maybe the trio chattering in Vietnamese and blocking the aisle as they pointed around them and laughed. An older patron moved slowly beside the cheeses--two others, a man and a woman, sat at a table just six feet away, talking about digestive problems and medications.
Andi decided that they'd be likely watchers, the thought gave her a feeling of reassurance--she wondered again how much Morse would spend to play this game. He kicked into high gear after learning of Lively's files--it must cost quite a bit to pull out all the stops.
She spied Lively with a red plastic basket of groceries and a brown folder. She pretended not to notice and he nervously turned up a aisle. Let him watch her until he was ready; the other team weren't obvious, maybe they switched off so that nobody looked his way for more than a minute or two.
Lively turned her way again, this time making eye contact. Andi nodded slightly and turned her head as if to look away, keeping him at the edge of her peripheral vision.
Lively came up.
Andi extended a hand and gestured him to a chair. He put his basket on the table and sat.
"Are you ready?" she asked him casually.
"Have you been followed...?" he asked suspiciously.
"By who?" Andi tried to feign mild alarm. She looked around and clutched the money a little tighter.
"Who knows?" Lively switched from worry to a swagger.
"Our client might want a number of other files after viewing this one..." Andi ad libbed.
"I figure he might..." Lively smiled.
"Then this is yours." Andi pushed the envelope across the table and dropped her hands to her lap. She tried to remember that she had no stake in this at all--if he wanted to take the money and run, it was nothing to her.
Lively glanced down and hesitated, obviously debating on whether to check the money. He decided to trust her and handed over the file. "It's a pleasure doing business...I suppose I'll hear from you later in the week?" He rose to his feet.
"It's not up to me Mr. Lively..." Andi was purposefully vague.
"I suppose it's not." Lively shook his head in condescension and strode purposefully toward the door.
Morse must have had people already in the parking lot, because no one followed him out. Andi looked around, but nobody seemed to be watching.
So, it's over she thought to herself, maybe the "other team" of Morse's was just a bluff to keep her honest. She rose to her feet and picked up the folder, it had been enough excitement for the evening--time to call it a night.
When she got back to her apartment she phoned Morse.
"Good work." he congratulated her, "I'll send a messenger to get the file in the morning." He didn't seem overly concerned.
He knew that the exchange had gone off, so there'd been somebody watching. She wished she had gone back to the office to quietly run a copy before she gave it back.
She didn't ask any questions, he said "Thanks," and hung up. Andi turned the radio on--a be-bob group with vibes was pumping Miles Davis's Seven Steps to Heaven, she shut her eyes and tried to relax as the vibes sailed into an instrumental bridge.
The kitchen clock said quarter to seven as she puttered fixing dinner. Early really. No more Monday night football. She'd spend the evening paging through the file to see what Morse spent his money for. If there was anything exciting she could zip in early to copy it before his messenger came.
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