Private Eye Four-Pack, page 73
Streeter kept looking at Cooper and his crew. The attorney had one of those chunky bodies that made even an expensive suit look like it came off the rack at Kmart. Story’s letter apparently had had the desired effect. Cooper looked like he was reading a death threat from the Ayatollah. The blonde next to him wasn’t quite as cheap-looking as Story had described. Sort of sexy, but with a definite air of intelligence. Quite sexy, actually, and obviously pissed. She was glaring at Cooper and she seemed to be shaking her head. And the bovine paralegal with the hideous posture merely seemed confused. He looked like all he wanted in the whole world was to leave the room.
Cooper looked up when he got the gist of the letter. “You’re kidding,” was about the best he could do. “You can’t be serious. I’ve got an itemized invoice here documenting far more than the sum of this fictitious retainer to which you allude. Hell, all Doug came up with was thirty-five hundred. I’ve got the receipt right here.”
He nodded to Ronnie, who didn’t budge.
“Speaking of fictitious,” Story said, glaring back, “I’d like to see that invoice. Talk about fairy tales. Listen, Cooper, you’ve got my letter. Give me your invoice. We’ll let a judge settle this. There’s no point in us arguing about it now.”
That really hit Cooper. His final trump card was Jacky Romp waiting in the next room to serve her with a summons and complaint in a collections action. But if she had William McLean ready to go to court, the suit sure as hell wouldn’t shake her. Chalk one up for Ronnie. She had read Story a lot better than he had. But he’d come this far, might as well play out the string. He leaned over to Ronnie and told her to get the process server. She was watching their two visitors across the desk, thinking what a bitch Story was and how the big bounty hunter had nice forearms and such a gentle face. He can hunt my bounty any day, flashed through Ronnie’s mind. Then she turned and looked hard at Cooper and seemed about to speak. Instead, she merely got up and left the room.
“In anticipation of your response, I’ve formalized my grievance in the lawsuit that is forthcoming,” Cooper said without much enthusiasm.
The door opened and Jacky Romp entered. His eyes darted around until he saw Story. He broke into his patented lizard smile and strolled toward her.
“This would be for you, lady,” he said with his mouth shut. He looked over at Streeter and his smile faded. Then he turned and left the room.
Streeter shifted in his seat and pulled some sort of document from his back pocket. He looked at Story. She nodded. Then he leaned across the desk and chucked the papers toward Cooper. “In anticipation of your chicken-shit response, Mr. McLean drew this up.” Story smiled. “It’s a summons and complaint all of your own. We’ll see you in court. And another thing.” She glanced at Ronnie, who had returned to her chair. “Tell Hot Stuff there to quit looking into Doug’s past. I know she was over at Shannon Mays’ place and I can only guess what else she’s doing. And if anything more happens to my car, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
Cooper’s mouth dropped open in genuine shock. Papers flying at him from every direction and now all this cryptic talk about cars and Shannon somebody. Ronnie stayed cool, glaring at Story but not saying anything. “Shannon’s? I don’t…” Cooper quickly regained his composure. “The activities of my staff are none of your concern.”
“From the looks of it, they’re not much of your concern, either,” Story shot back. “Just don’t pry into Doug’s life. A judge’ll settle this.”
With that, she and Streeter got up and left.
Soyko had just rounded the corner next to the elevators when he saw Doug Shelton’s girlfriend and some guy coming out of Cooper’s office. He was surprised, because Cooper had told him the meeting would be long over by then. The couple didn’t seem to notice him as they passed in the hallway. When they walked by, he turned to admire Story, or more specifically her bottom, heading for the elevators. He also noticed the size of the guy with her and wondered if her new boyfriend had any fight in him. In Soyko’s world, it was performance that counted. Bulging muscles without a killer instinct meant nothing. Just more meat to put down.
A frowning Dwayne Koslaski came out of Cooper’s office, and Jacky was sitting in the waiting area. He was ignoring the receptionist, who was ignoring him. When Soyko walked in, she switched into high gear and ignored both of them. Jacky gave him a quick nod toward Cooper’s office and rolled his eyes. Soyko walked slowly over and sat next to him.
“That clown gets more worthless all the time,” Jacky fumed. “Tried to lean on the little blonde, and I gather she handed him his ass. She had some meatball with her.”
“I saw them out in the hallway. She wasn’t going for any of his bullshit lawyer bills? Some move, huh?”
Jacky grunted through his teeth.
“How you know what happened in there?” Soyko asked.
“When the fat guy walked out of the office, he left the door open. Mr. Shit-for-Brains Lawyer was yelling at the broad that works for him, Mrs. Shit-for-Brains. Something about her sticking her nose into something or other. She looked like she wanted to kick his butt. Probably could. Anyhow, he started whining about how the other broad might be more trouble than she’s worth. Looks like another Cooper fuckup in the making.”
Soyko nodded. He stared at Cooper’s office door. “Let’s find out what’s going on.” When they walked into his office, the receptionist didn’t even look up from her crossword puzzle.
“Jesus, all I need is you free-lancing,” Cooper was yelling at Ronnie. They stood in the middle of the room, about a foot apart, glaring at each other. Neither seemed to notice when Soyko and Romp walked in. “Every idiot in town is looking for that money! What the hell were you doing, going over to her apartment like that?”
“Somebody better get real on finding that money,” Ronnie hurled back. “If you think these two dildos are going to locate anything”—she threw her arm out in Soyko’s direction—“maybe you should find another line of work. Like sorting apples.”
Cooper noticed them for the first time. He straightened his tie, went behind his desk, and threw himself into his chair. “That will be all for now.” He looked back at Ronnie, trying to put as much authority into his voice as he could. No one in the room bought it.
She studied him. “We’ll talk later.” With that she left.
“See what happens when you spoil a woman?” He looked at Soyko.
“I see. She nosing around in your business, counselor?”
Cooper’s face got red. “Everyone’s nosing around in my business. And it appears that everyone has the same idea about Mr. Shelton’s cash reserves. That goddamned girlfriend of his is out looking for it. You’re looking for it. I’m looking for it. That one out there is looking for it.” He nodded toward the door. “What the hell is going on around here?”
“Looks like you’re having one miserable morning.”
“It would appear so.” Cooper was now more reflective than depressed. “And then that Story woman practically accused me of trashing her car. I’m not sure I know what she was implying. Either of you two been screwing around with her?”
Soyko frowned. “Hell no. What for? Tell me what happened and we’ll see what we can come up with.” He sat down across from the attorney and Jacky flopped onto the couch.
Cooper stared at Soyko for a long time before he spoke. “My meeting with Moffatt went like shit. Not only is she contesting my invoices, but she’s fighting back. Here I thought she’d be glad to take a discount just to make it right with me. That bastard Doug must have told her something about our arrangement, because she has a pretty good handle on the money end of it.
“As though that weren’t enough, she’s hired William McLean to represent her. Even getting her served”—he nodded quickly to Jacky—“didn’t faze her. She brought some muscle-head with her to glare at me. That miserable Koslaski damn near wet his pants. He tells us his name is Streeter. So I asked his first name. He sits there like Buddha and says to me, ‘Streeter’s fine.’
“Then comes the grand finale.” Cooper’s eyes got wide as he scanned the room. “My own secretary is out there looking for Doug’s money without even telling me. Jesus, who can you trust? This thing’s beginning to look like one monumental foul-up. Maybe I should just dump the whole effort.”
Soyko nodded. “Who can you trust, is right.” He made a mental note to have a little chat with Taggert. He wouldn’t tell Cooper about that, because he would get all protective. The lawyer acted like Ronnie was the only woman on the face of the planet. He could never understand Cooper’s loyalty toward her. Any woman of mine starts messing in my business, Soyko reasoned, she gets the belt.
“Don’t get too discouraged,” he advised the attorney. “Just give it a shot against this McLean guy. You already served the papers. Can’t stop that train once it’s left the station.”
Cooper knew he was right. He doubted if Moffatt could get any money out of him. He might as well take his chances in court. See if he could squeeze something out of her in front of a judge. If she had money to hire McLean, she had money to pay for Doug.
“About the rest of it,” Soyko continued, “just don’t worry so much. I got an idea there’s something to all this hunting around. I talked to a couple of people who knew Doug and it seems he did move a fair amount of blow. I just know that he had some serious money—of the six-figure variety, like you said. My own theory is that he wasn’t hiding it with no girlfriend. This Story doesn’t have it, why should some other broad? I’m thinking maybe he tucked it away somewhere else. And don’t worry about her goon. He gives you too much grief, you let me know.”
The prospect of Soyko’s going up against Streeter intrigued Cooper. “I might just do that.”
“Your little girlfriend there isn’t the only surprise person nosing around into this business, either.”
Cooper stiffened. “What do you mean. Who else?”
“Some cop’s been sniffing around the last few days. My hunch is, this Story asked the cops some questions and that got them interested in Doug all over again. By the way, did Dougy get into a fight last fall? Maybe around the time he got busted?”
“I’d hardly call it a fight. Someone beat the snot out of him shortly after his incarceration. He wouldn’t tell me who did it. I never understood all that happened last fall with him. The beating, the charges being dropped. Not that I was paying much attention. This cop worries me more. You really think Story got them worked up again?”
“Who knows. But this may not be bad news. It seems to me that, the more attention this guy’s estate gets, the more likely it is he left some serious money behind. And we’re the ones gonna find it. That’s guaranteed.”
ELEVEN
“So, how did we make out with the opprobrious Mr. Cooper this morning?” Bill McLean asked. Streeter had called him when he got back to the church just before dark.
“I’ll have to get back to you on the opprobrious part,” Streeter answered, “but we sure put the fear of God into him. This guy’s in a league of his own. I can understand trying to shave the corners a little to get a few extra bucks. But what corks me is that he acted indignant when we nailed him on it. Amazing. He tried to intimidate Story and she ended up crushing him. When he got that demand letter and then the complaint, I thought he was going to pass out. To top it off, his own secretary is out looking for Doug’s money and he didn’t even know about it.”
“He may be a fool,” McLean said, “but you have to admit that he has a pair a pumpkins on him. Serving Story like that. I’m looking forward to getting into court with this guy. I’d love to have seen his face when you served him. I bet they could hear his butt clamp shut all the way up and down 17th Avenue. Legally, I think we’re in good shape, and I’ve got a few ideas how we can speed things up. I don’t want this to drag out and let Cooper think he’s got a shot.”
“Story’ll like that. Speaking of which, someone trashed out her car, spray-painted her dog, and left her a cute little message. They want her to back off. They apparently meant our treasure hunt. It could be one of Cooper’s associates. I heard he has some dangerous friends.”
“I’ve heard stories myself. Between his secretary and his investigators, he’ll be spending half his time watching his own backside. We can assume that the secretary’s looking for what you’re looking for. And we can further assume that, if Mr. Cooper wasn’t looking for that before today, he is now. That means you better be very careful. As Story’s attorney, my main concern is keeping Tom Cooper’s hands off whatever Doug left her that she already has. I’ll try to get a quick hearing on this. Tell Story I’ll call her when we have a court date.”
When he hung up, Streeter called his client. He gave her McLean’s message and then he filled her in on something else. “I’ve got a meeting tomorrow afternoon up in Boulder with a guy named Carl Shorts. He’s plugged into the whole county up there and he’s got a line on an old girlfriend of Doug’s. It sounds like she might have something for us.”
“Who is it? Do you have a name for the woman?”
“He didn’t tell me on the phone. You think you might know some of his friends from when he lived up there?”
“No, but I might have heard the name before. Let me know what you find out.”
“You got it.”
Frank walked into the office shortly after Story hung up. “Working late, are we?” he asked.
“Just wrapping up some calls. What’s to it, Frank?”
“Same old. I take it you’re still busy with that lady from the other week.”
“Busy with her problem. It’s getting weirder all the time. Maybe you can give me a hand. Someone messed up her car last Friday night. Spray-painted the side—along with her dog, if you can believe that. Left her a bad note that made me think it might be this lawyer we’re dealing with. But the guy who lives across the alley from where she was parked got a partial on the plate of the car the painter was driving. I’m trying to think of why it rings a bell with me. The guy got B-J-J-3 clear but he couldn’t see the rest. That mean anything to you?”
Frank frowned and flicked his thumb against his ear a couple of times. It was his way of letting you know he was thinking. “It means you might have a cop on your case. That’s what it means to me. As I recall from my days with the Sheriff’s Department, all the plates for Denver unmarked police cars start either with B-J-J or J-B-J. They’re the only ones who get those prefixes. No wonder it sounded familiar. I probably told you that back when you started with me. If that’s the car that did it, your friend’s got at least one cop trying to tell her something. What the hell’s this little lady done to make the police want to paint her doggy?”
“Beats me. Maybe she’s got some unpaid parking tickets and they just wanted her attention. Maybe she wouldn’t buy raffle tickets. You could write several long books on what I don’t know about her.”
“Well, we can sit here and crack wise all night, but if the cops are behind this you’ve got some serious trouble. I’m surprised, though. The Denver police may not be a bunch of geniuses or Eagle Scouts but this just ain’t their style. I’ve dealt with these guys for thirty years and I know that’s true. Listen, I’m hungry. Let’s you and me go get pizza or some other big hit of garlic.”
“Sounds good to me.”
When they got back to the church after eating, Streeter read a little and then went to bed at eleven o’clock. But Frank’s revelation about the police car wouldn’t let him sleep. Finally, shortly after midnight, he got dressed and went to his weight room to think. Since he’d been a teenager, he had found solace and comfort in lifting weights. Growing up in a home with an alcoholic father, he used to retreat to the basement gym. It was his sanctuary where he could escape the endless arguments between his parents upstairs. He liked being alone with the cold iron, the smell of chalk dust and cold grease. There was a huge mirror on one wall, and a rusting bench dominated the middle. He would go through hours of repetitive sets, feeling strength and, more important, a sense of order in his chaotic and angry house. When he moved into the church, he immediately built a weight room off to one side of the garage.
He warmed up with five sets of fifty push-ups, his feet elevated a couple feet off the ground to give him more range and stretch. Then he did six fierce sets of bench presses, working up to two hundred forty-five pounds for a set of five. It was an easy weight for him. Next he moved on to curls, doing slow sets of six with a hefty one hundred eighty pounds. His biceps bulged and the veins shot out like someone had injected blue fluid in his arms.
Streeter knew he was biting into trouble when he and Story took on Cooper. But he never figured anyone else was in the picture. Much less a cop. Or cops. He had no idea how many there were, who they were, or what they were after. Nor did he know how far they’d go.
The most logical theory he’d been toying with was that the same cop who heisted the evidence against Shelton somehow heard that he and Story were looking into Doug’s business. Obviously, that cop wouldn’t want anyone nosing around. He was sure the cop thought that any possible problems died with Doug. All snooping now was to be discouraged. Before he and Frank went out to eat, Streeter had put in a call to Carey. He hadn’t heard back yet. He’d ask his friend to sniff around the department and see if there ever were any suspects in that evidence theft.
His other theory was more disturbing. What if the cop or cops got wind that Doug left a bundle and they jumped into the hunt? Because of Doug’s arrest, the police might have the inside track. Who knows what Doug told them? He tried to think of who the renegade officer could be. Frank had a point. This isn’t the way Denver cops usually behave. Still, you wave enough money in front of anyone and they can turn sour. Then he thought of Arthur Kovacs. This had to be the best suspect. The guy was right in the middle of Doug’s case and he had been a Detroit cop. Streeter knew about them. Spray-painting foreign cars and dogs could be a hiring requirement in Detroit, for all he knew. Kovacs gave him that stupid tip about Shannon Mays and he made it clear what he thought of Story and Doug’s family. He’d ask Carey specifically about Kovacs while he was at it.
