The Things We Do for Love Read online

  “Thank God. This is Mitzi, Mitzi Philbrick. You said to call if anything else came.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, something arrived here this morning. It was on the steps when I went out to get the paper.”

  “What is it?”

  “A box, brown paper wrapping, cut out letters on the top.”

  “What do the letters say?”

  “Just Jane Doe. Then below it says Fragile, Handle With Care.”

  Cute. A bomb with manners.

  “Do you think it’s a bomb, Mr. Haggerty?” Mitzi was getting more upset by the second and her voice was going up and down like Galloping Gertie.

  “I don’t think so, but let’s not take a chance. Get dressed and leave the building. Go stand across the street. Don’t leave. I’m sending a man over to look at the package. His name is Davey Isaacs. He’ll show you some identification. Show him the package. And thanks for calling.”

  “Sure,” she said unhappily.

  I turned back toward Davey and Jane.

  “We’ve got a package over at the fan club, addressed to Jane, says handle with care. I want you to go over and look at it. I’m going to call Rocky for help with this.”

  “Get Skilton. He’s the best bomb man Rocky has.”

  “I know. If I can’t, I’m going to have to call the police in. If it isn’t a bomb, bring it back here so we can take a look at it. Call as soon as you know. Here’s the address.” I ripped a page off the phone pad.

  “On my way,” Davey said. He downed the rest of his coffee, nodded towards Jane, plucked the note out of my hand and left.

  Jane’s head was propped up on her palm and shook from side to side, a tiny metronome of disbelief.

  I dialed Rocky’s office and got through quickly.

  “Good to hear from you, Leo. Got some good news for me?”

  “No, not exactly, Rocky. I’m thinking about it, but I haven’t made up my mind. The reason I’m calling is that I need an explosives man.”

  “Making or breaking?”

  “Breaking. Is George Skilton still with you?”

  “No. George died last year. Heart attack.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Who’s your best man now, Rocky?”

  “Walker.”

  “Walker? Who’s he?”

  “He’s a she. Sara Walker. Could be a brain surgeon, she’s that good.”

  “Can I have her, Rocky? I’ve got a funny package to look at.”

  “Sure. She’s free. Where do I send her?”

  I gave him the address. “Tell her to look for Dave Isaacs out front. She’s to work with him.”

  “Will do, Leo. And keep thinking about what I said. You aren’t going to get rich this way.”

  “I know, Rocky. I don’t have anything against being rich, I just don’t insist on it.”

  “Trust me, Leo. I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor. Rich is better.”

  “Thanks for the help, Rocky. I’ll be in touch.”

  Nothing to do but wait. Twenty minutes to Philbrick’s. Fifteen minutes to determine if it’s a bomb. Up to an hour to disarm it. Amateurs mistake complexity for sophistication. The pros know that complicated mechanisms decay and lead to premature explosions, like in your lap. What you want is a nice, simple, reliable mechanism of a sort that can’t be undone. Like an integrated explosive and detonator, for example.

  Jane was standing beside me.

  “What’re you thinking?” she asked, and blew across the steaming mug of coffee she held in her not quite steady hands.

  She had on a red tunic, belted and bloused over black stretch pants and black ankleboots.

  I strummed my thumbnail against a tooth. “Nothing. Just waiting. If it’s a bomb then I start thinking. Frankly, it would surprise me if it was a bomb. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “It doesn’t feel right?” she asked, her eyebrows arched in wonder.

  “The letters read like a personal grievance, an injury, real or imagined, that needs to be avenged. A bomb is too impersonal, too distant. That’s good for terrorist groups, where you’re killing for ideas and the victims are symbols. No, this person wants …”

  “My blood. On his hands. That means a knife or a gun, right?”

  I nodded, as I went on working my thumbnail. “Yeah, that’s what it means.” I reached out and patted her forearm. “Why don’t you sit down, try to relax? There’s nothing to do but wait.”

  “What a mess. My band’s on the verge of breaking up, we’re being sued by some asshole who tried to grope me on stage; Axel’s fucking his way through L.A. and some lunatic wants to kill me.”

  She leaned her head back and yelled at the ceiling, “Hello up there. If you’re listening, I’m sorry,” her voice trailed off, “for whatever you think I’ve done.” She shook her head from side to side. “Goddamn it, I’m tired of being sorry for who I am. Fuck you, one and all.” Slamming her mug down she stalked out of the room and slammed the bedroom door.

  To pass the time I cleaned up the dishes and stacked them on the serving tray. My watch said forty-five minutes had passed. The phone slept on, nestled in its cradle. I sat, clicking my heels to a song in my head.

  The phone’s ring propelled me across the sofa. As I juggled the receiver, I saw Jane standing in the doorway, then slowly making her way toward me.

  “Leo, it’s Davey.”

  “Yes?”

  “No bomb.”

  “Thank God.”

  “I’m not so sure, Leo.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have one sick mind at work here.”

  “All right. Bring it over, whatever it is. How did Walker do?”

  “Knows her bombs, that’s for sure. Cool in the clutch and smooth, very smooth. She could shave your nuts and you’d never know you’d had company.”

  “Thanks. We’ll see you in what, twenty minutes?”

  “About that.”

  I set the phone down and looked over at Jane.

  “I have good news and I have bad news. The good news is there was no bomb. The bad news is on its way over here.” It was time for me to start thinking.

  CHAPTER 19

  Davey walked in with the box under his arm. When I looked quizzically at him he said, “No prints, nothing.”

  Davey put the box on the table and stepped back. Jane and I stood there looking at it. I’d opened boxes like this before. One had some fingers in it. One had a dead pet. This one was about the size of a newborn. “Are you sure you want to see what’s in it?” I asked Jane.

  “No, I’m not sure, goddamn it, just open the fucking thing and let’s get it over with.”

  I lifted the lid and set it aside. There was a layer of tissue paper. As I reached in to remove it, I saw hands that were anything but steady.

  The body was scorched and melted. The skewer had been rammed through the crotch, and then it had been barbecued. Where the blond head should have been, there was the head of a dead bird. Glassy-eyed, its bill was open and its tiny shriveled tongue stood up like a spike. I used a napkin to reach in and lift the doll out by the skewer it was impaled on. Underneath was a note: Sweet Dreams Songbird.

  “Put it away. I’ve seen enough,” Jane said. She shuddered and held herself tight.

  “We’re almost out of the woods. The deposition is in half an hour, then to the airport for the three o’clock flight back,” I said. Rounding third and steaming for home. “This doesn’t change a thing. We knew there was some twisted motherfucker out there with a hate on for you.”

  “Oh, it’s changed one thing,” she said quietly. “I’m afraid now.”

  I wished I had something reassuring to say to her, but you can sugarcoat a death threat any way you want—it still sticks going down.

  The phone’s ring startled us all. I picked it up and heard Walter O’Neil’s voice. “Leo, Walt here, can I speak with my client, please?”

  “In a second, Walt. How’d you get this number?”

  “Ballantine gave i
t to me. He’s right here, why?”

  “Nothing. Hold on.” I held out the phone to Jane. She pinned it against her shoulder and leaned against the bookcase, still hugging herself.

  After a series of yes’s, a smile struggled to break out across her face. She handed me the phone.

  “Leo, the deposition’s canceled. The other side wants to talk settlement. This could be over today. I’d like to have Jane available to approve of any settlement offer we negotiate.”

  “Do you need her at your office?”

  “No. Just available by phone, but cancel the L.A. flight.”

  “I’ll try to keep her here, then. This is the easiest place to handle a long phone conversation.”

  “Good. Let me know if you do go out so I can track you down. I’m going to try to round up everyone else so we can handle this by conference call.”

  “Any idea how long this will take?”

  “Not really. They want a million, I’m offering zero. We’ve got a ways to go.”

  “When do you stop?”

  “Anything under 200 grand. They’ve got a poor case. I’m seventy-five percent sure we’ll win outright if we go to court, but trial by jury is a crap shoot, Leo, you know that. We could lose it all. Frankly I’m delighted to see this move. Their lawyer, Massengill, has been real intransigent up to now. You’d think we were negotiating his daughter’s virtue.”

  “Good luck, Walt. If we move we’ll let you know.”

  Putting the phone down, I turned to Jane. “Walt would like you to be available by phone to help settle this case. Frankly, it’s a lot easier to do right here. It’ll be tough to get you a private phone you can tie up long enough to handle these negotiations. If you want to go out for a drive, that’s fine. We can use the car phone. Can you handle just hanging around here?”

  “I guess so. Maybe we’re going to get a break. Get some of this crap settled so we can go on with our lives.”

  “Hope so.”

  “Do you know our lawyer?” she asked. I nodded yes.

  “What do you think of him?”

  “Walter O’Neil used to be a prosecutor. He only handled capital crimes, and he never lost a case. When you’re looking to take a man’s life, you learn to lawyer real well. Your mistakes can kill. Walt’s a finisher—when he gets you down you don’t get away. The other side is in real trouble, is what I think.”

  “I’m glad he’s on our side. Let’s just sit and wait. Maybe it won’t be so long.”

  On an impulse I pulled open the cupboard doors next to the television screen. Martin had laid in some games for times just like these. Davey, Jane and I decided on Othello. We were on the sixth round of our round robin tournament when the phone rang. It was Walt and he wanted to speak to Jane.

  She listened, nodding and brightening up. Finally, she erupted with a resounding, “Yes. Fine. Sign it. Thank God, that’s over.” She handed me the phone.

  “All done, Leo. We’ve settled. You can hustle her out of town now.”

  “How’d you do it, counselor? I was touting you big-time over here.”

  “They took my opening offer of fifty thousand dollars. It was over so quickly I forgot to twist their arms. Massengill must need his third of the fifty grand by close of business today. They could have held out for three times that amount. He sounded real flat on the phone, like he had no heart for the hassle, just wanted to take the money and run. Maybe he’s blowing it up his nose. Anyway, that’s not my problem. You take good care of my client, Leo. Whisk her away and let her get back to L.A. and making music. Oh, one thing, the details of this settlement are not to be revealed by anyone. The penalty is another fifty thousand, payable by him whose mouth runneth over. Need I say more?”

  “About what?”

  “Hold on a second, Leo.” Walt had covered his mouth piece. I heard him speaking to someone in his office.

  “Could you put Jane on the phone? Axel wants to talk to her.”

  “Sure. Hold on.”

  I held the phone out to Jane. “It’s Axel. He wants to talk to you.”

  Jane took the phone, ran a hand through her hair and composed her face into a mask of invulnerability, her voice a study in indifference.

  “Yes, Axel, I’m glad it’s settled too. No, I don’t think I want to go out and celebrate. I’m not in the celebrating mood. Do you really think there’s anything else to say, Axel? Anything that would make a difference?” Jane compressed her lips and listened to what I guessed was Axel’s attempt at a reconciliation.

  “I’ll ask him. Tough shit, Axel. It’s my life we’re talking about and right now you’re barely a part of that. That’s the way you wanted it, I recall. You sure didn’t work very hard to hide anything from me. No, you hold on a damn minute. If it’s really important, you’ll wait. If not, go hump your amp.”

  Jane covered the mouth piece of the phone.

  “Axel wants to get together. He wants to talk about the band and ‘us,’ whatever that is. He wants to take me out some place nice to celebrate and talk. What do you think?”

  “That’s okay. Tell him you’ll choose the place and we’ll be by to pick him up.” I checked my watch “Say six-thirty. Tell him to be down on the sidewalk in front of his hotel.”

  Jane relayed the information and got the name of Axel’s hotel.

  “I need to make one call before we go,” I said, as I dialed a number I thought I’d forgotten.

  “Anita Coxworth, please.”

  Jane lifted her eyebrows quizzically and mouthed “Come on.”

  “This is Anita Coxworth. To whom am I speaking?”

  “Leo Haggerty. Do you remember me?”

  “I sure do. Did you break up with that woman or is this on the side?”

  “Neither. Strictly business.”

  “So what can I interest you in?”

  “I need a date.”

  “For when?”

  “For right now. Dinner only. Nice place. You’ll need to get yourself there and home.”

  “That’s it, just dinner? Why call me?”

  “Because I need a date, a woman who knows when to keep her mouth shut. You came to mind. So what is it, do you want the work or not?”

  “Sure, what the hell. It’s going to cost you, though.”

  “What’s the rate?”

  “For you, honey, a hundred an hour.”

  “Fine. Your meter runs from the time you walk in the front door until we leave. Dress down if you can. I don’t want to attract any attention. Okay?”

  “Sure. Whatever. Anything else?”

  “No. If anything does come up, it’ll be on the spur of the moment. I’ll tell you at the table.”

  “Where and when?” I covered the mouthpiece and asked Jane if she cared where we ate. She said no.

  “How about the Occidental Grill. Seven p.m. Be on time.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Haggerty, sir.”

  “Goodbye, Anita.”

  “What was all that?” Jane asked.

  “Window dressing. A man eating alone in a restaurant stands out too much. I want to be invisible. She’ll help me disappear.”

  “I see. This woman is an independent businesswoman, I take it,” she said, smiling.

  “You take it right. Let me call and make reservations and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Okay, let me freshen up and I’ll be right with you.” Jane said, disappearing into the bedroom.

  Davey sat there with a dumb grin on his face.

  “What’s with you?” I asked.

  “I’m remembering what I used to hate most about this work.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sitting in the car, eating burger pellets, while you and the target are socking down world-class food and for free, too. All because I’m the one who’s good with cars.”

  “Tell you what, Davey, after this is over, I’ll take you to the Occidental. All you can eat. Okay?”

  “Naw, that’s okay. I was just remembering, that’s all.”

 
; “Listen, they’ve got new burger pellets, Davey. They’re so small they can be fired right into your mouth when you pull up in the ‘very fast’ food lane. You won’t have that nasty taste going down anymore. If you close your eyes you won’t know you’re eating at all.”

  “Hey, is this a great country or what?” Davey laughed.

  “Or what, is right.”

  I called the Occidental and booked two adjoining tables for two. One for Mr. Miller and the other for Mr. Andersson. The maitre d’ assured me that neither table was next to or opposite a window or a door. The Occidental is an enormously popular restaurant. The reason we got these tables on such short notice was that serious dining out in Washington starts at eight. After that we wouldn’t have been able to eat in the Occidental until next month.

  CHAPTER 20

  Axel was pacing the sidewalk outside his hotel when we pulled up. I jumped out and held open the door for him. Like a petulant child he dawdled, then sneered, “Why thank you, my good man. Good help is so hard to find.”

  The Occidental is a new restaurant with an old name. The original vanished into a pile of rubble about fifteen years ago. What’s amazing is that what they’ve built looks like it’s already been here for sixty years.

  Davey dropped us off and pulled across the street to wait. Crossing the sidewalk with Jane, a cold chill passed over me. I looked at the revolving doors ahead of us and had the strange sensation that home plate was receding from me, drawing farther away the faster I ran.

  Inside, the maitre d’ took our names and showed us to our tables.

  “Will there be someone else coming?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m sure she’ll be here momentarily,” I said, eyeing the doorway for Anita. The place was surprisingly full and I’d have to be on my toes.

  The waiter came and took Jane’s and Axel’s bar orders. I ordered club soda with a twist. It arrived as Anita came into the room. She glided past the maitre d’ with a brief word and bore down on me with a long slinky stride, a smirky smile, and her eyes on mine the whole way across the room. Her red dress was of a tasteful length and restrained in the cut. All this was to the good, because she wasn’t so much walking toward me as she was trying to wriggle out of the dress and leave it behind like an old skin. I was so glad I’d asked her to dress down.