1 The Reluctant Dick - The Case of the Not-So-Fair Trader (36 page)

“And work backwards,” Kelly adds.

I sit at a loss for words.

“Just trying to help,” Care says, noticing my funk.

“And I appreciate that.”

I put the girls to bed without a story. I call Tiffany
,
wake her up
. S
he is parked outside Christina’s condo where Lizzy went right after work. “Go home,” I tell her. She doesn’t argue.

I call Steve next
. N
othing new from him and he tells me nothing new from Norbert either. Jonas tells me
that
the Villano family is still in shock.

I can’t sleep. I place the cards back over the
Original Carlo
the way they were when the three of us entered the apartment that night. Back to square one, except for one difference
.
I leave a hole right after Lizzy and before the
“m
ystery
m
an.
”

“Dad,” Kelly says, coming out of the bedroom.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I miss my old friends,” she says.

“The girls you used to sit with at lunch?”

“Yeah.” She sits on the couch next to me. “The new table doesn’t have as much fun.”

“I hate that.”

“I don’t know what to do. If I leave the table I’m at now, they’ll never speak to me again
;
and I’m not sure my old table wants me back,” she pauses to yawn. “It’s a conundrum.”

“A lot of those going around lately.”

“What should I do?”

“Well, Kel, I’m not going to tell you what to do, because you got yourself into this and you’re the only one who can get yourself out.”

“But that’s not fair.”

“Get used to the ‘not fair’ part of life. It’ll happen a lot from this point forward.” I pull her closer to me. “All I can tell you is that
,
when you are young,
these
things seem to change at a much faster rate. What happened today can be quite different tomorrow. So, you might want to merely wait it all out. Don’t forget you only have a few days left to eat lunch in the cafeteria, anyway.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Don’t feel bad, the obvious is often the most difficult to see.”

I give my oldest a kiss, put her back in bed, come back to the
Original Carlo
and take every card down, leaving them in a big pile. I sit in front of the pile for about five minutes, then begin placing the cards back up on the painting
,
this time by suspect. Who could do it and who couldn’t.

Three hours later I fall asleep.

28

Well, I'll be doggoned

Augie Rinaldi is the mystery man. A small-time hood, Mafia wannabe, hailing from upstate New York, his first stretch was two years for assault when he was eighteen. From there he had a number of minor infractions and short incarcerations. At twenty-six, he was convicted of running a real estate
P
onzi scheme in Wooster, Massachusetts, but doing only eighteen months after he turned state
’
s evidence against his accomplice, Amy Zebelski. This fact alone would question his quality as boyfriend material
;
but Amy might have known something I didn’t, or maybe love does have no bounds. Reading his resume tells a cop that Augie is not the tastiest morsel in a criminal pot of stew.

The detective in Boston, Mickey Flynn (and what better name could a Boston cop have?), was kind enough to send along a one-sheet of Augie’s driver licenses, all with the same picture
;
but with the names Paul Lennon, John McCartney, Harrison Star
r
, and Buddy Ringo. Two things astound me: why stores and businesses consider a driver’s license proper identification, since it is probably one of the easiest documents to get
;
and how totally unoriginal criminals can be in choosing phony names. If I ever become a criminal, one of the first items I would steal is a “What Should We Name the Baby?” book.

Norbert finds Augie registered under the name Keith Jagger, at the I
Love
Chicago Motor Inn on Peterson, where Ridge and Clark meet. If not the noisiest intersection in the city, it ranks close to the top of the list. Actually, the name of the place wasn’t
“I Love,”
but
“
I
”
, followed by a picture of a heart and the city’s name. Augie has a ground-floor room.

Norbert kept his distance from our man, as was the plan. Steve and I meet Norbert and check into Room
135
, bringing the day manager with us for a friendly chat.

While Steve snaps photos of out-of-shape Augie sunning himself by the pool, we quiz the Heart’s manager. “This guy been doing anything while he’s been here?”

“Not much,” he says.

“Does he do her?” Norbert asks
,
showing him Lizzy’s photo.

“Yeah, I thought she was a professional girl.” The manager would be one that would know.

“How long will he be here?” I ask.

“He paid for the month.”

“In cash?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, that means he’ll stay at least six weeks,” Steve says.

“You know which car he’s driving?”

The man points and Norbert writes down the license number.

“If you think he’s checking out early, you call us,” Steve tells the man.

“What do I get out of all this?” the manager asks.

“Our undying gratitude.”

The manager is not happy
. H
e looks like he needs sleep.

“You don’t think we should pull him in now?” Steve asks.

“Trust me on this boys, there’s a lot more we have to find out about Augie, before he finds out about us.”

The two detectives look at each other
. T
hey agree, but not happily.

“I have a request,” I tell them as we watch Augie get up out of his deck chair.

“What?”

“Would you consider exhuming a body?”

“Alvin was cremated, Sherlock.”

“Another body.”

“Joey Villano’s?”

“Not Joey.”

“Who, then?” Steve asks.

“Lucy.”

“Arnaz?”

“No.”

Norbert is perplexed. “Sherlock what the hell are you up to?”

“I’m just trying to help Steve’s vacation plans.”

Steve turns to me. “Where do you want me to start digging?”

We watch Augie wade into the pool, but hold onto the side as he makes his way to the deep end. Augie can’t swim.

“I only need a few more cards on my wall and I’ll be ready to rock and roll.”

“You sure, Sherlock?”

Every case I’ve ever worked on has a lightbulb. When it pops on, the light hits you in the face like a
prison searchlight
.

“There are only a few more aspects that have to be checked out.”

“What do you need?” Steve asks.

“I need the help of the detective in Boston.”

“Jonas can set that up.”

“I need Alvin’s financials from his account at Northern Trust.”

“Why?”

“Mister P. Carrington Vogel is holding back and I got to find out why.”

“Pace is picking up,” Norbert says. “I like that.”

“Music to my ears,” Steve adds.

“Give a criminal enough rope and he will invariably figure out a way to hang himself,” I tell the boys, “time to prepare the gallows.”

___

Tiffany meets me at my apartment and we pull up EscortsRus.com on my computer.

“I bet I could make a lot of money if I were an escort, Mister Sherlock.”

“Yeah, but you’d have to have sex with guys like Alvin.”

“Oh, gross,” she says.

“And Herman.”

“Oh my God, I’d rather die.”

I scroll down to Diane and Alexis’ pictures. “I need you to pull these two photos off, print up the head shots and take them around to every bartender in town until one recognizes a love connection.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re so good at doing stuff like this.”

“Thanks, Mister Sherlock
.
I love flattery.”

“But first, I want you to visit Romo at the FBI
,
and go through the family’s phone records. All you have to do is find the ones with the 617 area code and report those back to me.”

“Maybe while I’m there I can get one of those baseball caps with
“
FBI
”
on the front.”

“Why would you want one of those?” I ask. “If you run into a criminal and he sees the hat, you’d be the first on his list to shoot.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“You’d be better off wearing one that said CRIMINAL on the front.”

“Then wouldn’t the cops want to shoot me?”

“Cops don’t shoot pretty girls,
they harass them.”

While we speak, Tiffany figures out she can’t print the photos on my crummy printer. “I’ll have to do this at home.”

“That’s okay; you’re going to need a nap since you’ll be working late tonight.”

“I’m not sure I can sleep. I mean I can feel the energy of the case bubbling to the surface.”

“Well, if you want to tag along, I’m going to see Herman.”

Tiffany yawns. “Maybe you’re right
. A
little nappy-poo would do wonders.”

___

I call Herman before I show up to be sure his butt is in gear when I arrive.

“What have you found out?”

“Not only has he been skimming Alvin’s account for years, he’s had help.”

“Little Miss Millie?”

“She’d be the logical Target Team Member.”

“How’d they do it?”

“When all the trading chits are tallied each day, they merely take a few for themselves.”

“Alvin didn’t see?”

“He’s too busy jumping up and down on the floor to remember every time he makes a bet.”

It makes sense. Heffelfinger didn’t go out of town to find Alvin’s money; he went to visit his. And, maybe Millie isn’t moving in with her sister in Florida
;
but traveling farther South to live out her days with Heffy in the splendor of some South American posh resort.

“There
are
a few more aspects of the case that I want you to figure out, Herman.”

“More?”

“Don’t worry
,
I’m almost done.”

“You’re leaving me with a lot of porn to catch up on, Sherlock.”

I give him his own to-do list to do.

Next stop, I meet Jonas at Joey Villano’s parents’ house. Parked in the front with a FOR SALE sign is a new Pontiac Grand Am.

“I’ve seen enough.”

“You drag me all the way out and we don’t even go inside? What fun is that?” Jonas asks.

“Want some fun?” I ask him. “I’ll take you someplace for some fun.”

Jonas is too good of a detective, not to take my bait.

We head north to Kenilworth.

Mrs. Coulter is not too thrilled having her backyard dug up for a second time
;
but Steve was smart enough to arrange it during school hours.

“We’re digging up a dog?” Jonas asks.

“Yep.”

The bag containing Lucy’s remains stinks to high heaven when the unlucky Peter Patrolman pulls it out of the ground.

“Whew!”

“Want it back?” I ask the Missus.

“Ah,” she says, speaking through her handkerchief
,
pushed against her nose and mouth. “You keep her. We’re good.”

“It’ll never get back to New Trier High School, I promise.”

“Super.”

The bag containing the remains is placed in another, more airtight bag
,
and loaded into the trunk of Norbert’s car. “This all better pay off, Sherlock, or you’re goi
ng to owe me a month of lunches,
” Norbert says after rethinking his dinner plans.

We leave patrolman Peter to fill in the hole.

___