Fatal Care (29 page)

“Why not borrow against the stock?” Lucy asked suspiciously.

“Because my wife doesn’t know about the stock, and I want to keep it that way,” Tuch said, making it up as he went along. “I don’t want it to become part of a community property settlement when we divorce. You and I know how valuable that Bio-Med stock is going to be.”

“Billions,” Lucy said breathlessly.

“And billions,” Tuch agreed. “And I’m going to do everything under the sun to protect my stock. It’ll be that much more we can add to the ton of money we’re going to enjoy together.”

“Yes,” Lucy said, smiling at the words
a ton of money
. “It’s going to be so good.”

“You bet.” Tuch reached over and pulled her to him, burying his head between her breasts. “I just can’t get enough of you.”

“Oh, I wish I had time to jump in bed with you,” Lucy said, her voice huskier.

“Make time.”

“I really can’t.” Lucy sat on his lap and quickly kissed his lips and nose. “Tell me how we can get to my dead husband’s assets before his will goes through probate.”

“Just show the bank your husband’s will and what he left you,” Tuch explained. “They’d be delighted to have the Bio-Med stock you’ll inherit as collateral.”

Lucy stiffened. “I’m not going to put that up. That’s my future fortune.”

“It’s just temporary,” Tuch said soothingly.

“Temporary, hell!”

Lucy stood and went over to the mirror, where she angrily ran a brush through her hair. “I’m not going to risk that for anything or anybody.”

“You’re going to put it up whether you like it or not,” Tuch said hoarsely.

“Oh? Are you going to make me?”

Tuch gave her a hard stare. “Don’t forget, we’re partners in this. We’ve had a man killed, and that can send us to jail for a very long time.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Tuch shook his head. “I’m just telling you the way things stand. If I don’t cover these loans, I could be disbarred and sent to prison. I’d lose everything and become very desperate. And desperate people do desperate things. They might even turn state’s evidence in a murder case, provided they were given total immunity. Of course, I’d hate to see that happen because we’d all still lose. And all those millions would be long gone.”

Lucy stared back at him for a moment. Then she dropped her head submissively. “Let’s not fight. We’ve got so much going for us.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Sometimes I don’t listen very well,” Lucy said apologetically. “Tell me what I have to do to get the loan.”

“I’ll make all the arrangements,” Tuch said, smiling at her. So easy, he was thinking, so damn easy. He’d gotten a half-million dollars in about five minutes. He wondered how long it would take him to get all her millions.

Tuch reached out for her. “Come here!”

“I don’t have time to get undressed and all,” Lucy said, resisting as he pulled her to him.

“Oh, I was thinking of something else.”

Lucy smiled seductively and got down on her knees. She unzipped his pants and pulled down his underwear, then buried her face in his crotch, flicking her tongue everywhere.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tuch moaned, and leaned back against a pillow. He watched her head bobbing up and down, immensely pleased with himself. He would end up controlling the Rabb millions and have Lucy Rabb as a plaything.
The best of all worlds
. Outside, small waves were gently bouncing off the side of the
Argonaut
.
The best of all worlds
, he thought again.

Tuch suddenly felt himself throbbing inside Lucy’s mouth. “Oh, Jesus!” he groaned loudly, grabbing the bedpost.

Lucy looked up at him, swallowing. “I like doing that.”

“I know.”

“Want me to do it again?”

Tuch forced a laugh. “You’ll kill me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Lucy said, and got to her feet.

Tuch went into the adjoining bathroom and washed himself over the basin. He talked to Lucy through the open door. “I’ll run by the bank this afternoon and get everything set up.”

“Good.”

“Then you can sign the papers and the money will be transferred into my account.”

“Good.”

Tuch walked back into the bedroom. “And believe me, your Bio-Med stock will be absolutely safe.”

“I know that.” Lucy came over and hugged him tightly. “You’re not angry at me, are you?”

“No way,” Tuch assured her and kissed the tip of her nose. “I have to run now.”

“You’ll call me later?”

“For sure,” Tuch promised.

Lucy blew a kiss to him as he left, and then she went into the bedroom. She put on new lipstick and brushed her hair again, her eyes studying her reflection in the mirror. She wondered if she looked anywhere near as stupid as Mervin Tuch thought she was.

Lucy returned to the master bedroom and picked up the phone. She quickly punched in numbers.

“I have a big problem,” she said into the receiver without identifying herself. “And it needs fixing.”

Farelli was still drawing a blank tracking down the Russian immigrant. The Centurion Cable Company had given him a list of all customers in the area who had reported their television cable malfunctioning over the past three months. Farelli had checked each one personally. There were a hundred and four complaints. A hundred and one knew nothing about the Russian. Of the remaining three households, two were middle-aged couples away on vacation. And one was a seventy-two-year-old widow who had been recently hospitalized. Nothing, Farelli thought sourly. A big nothing. But Farelli knew the Russian had to have lived in the area. Had to. But where?

As Farelli drove by Rucker’s Hardware Store, he saw up ahead a Centurion Cable repair truck. He thought of a question he hadn’t asked. It was a question the company couldn’t answer, but a cable repairman might. Farelli quickly pulled over to the curb.

He walked back to the Centurion truck and waved to the repairman. “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Sure.” The cable repairman was a tall young man with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. “What do you need?”

Farelli flashed his shield and showed the repairman a snapshot of the Russian. “Have you ever seen this guy?”

The repairman studied the photo and then shook his head. “Nope.”

“You certain?”

“Positive.”

Farelli decided to try another tack. “Did you ever have to repair a cable that somebody else tried to fix by themselves?”

The repairman thought about the question for a few moments before answering. “Nope.”

“Do you know of anybody around here who tried to fix their own cable?”

“Just one.”

Farelli’s eyes lit up. “Tell me about it.”

“Some old lady had underground wires that had rotted through,” the repairman recounted. “It would have been a big mess to dig up the wire and replace it, so the company put it off. She apparently got some outside guy to do it for her.”

“Did he do a good job?”

“Damn right,” the repairman said. “He didn’t dig up anything. He just strung the wire alongside her house.”

Farelli took out his notepad. “Give me the woman’s name.”

“Mrs. Anderson.” The repairman turned and pointed at a stucco house on the far corner. “That’s her house right there.”

Farelli studied the house briefly, recalling that it belonged to the seventy-two-year-old widow who was recently hospitalized. Some sort of heart problem, Farelli had been told by a neighbor. “You wouldn’t happen to know what hospital she’s in?”

The repairman looked at Farelli oddly. “She’s not in the hospital. At least she wasn’t this morning.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“Yeah,” the repairman said. “I was there a few hours ago. She called because her picture wasn’t so good. But it wasn’t the cable. It was the picture tube in her television set. It’s going bad.”

“I appreciate your help.”

“Any time.”

Farelli hurried across the street, hoping he’d found the right house. All he needed was the Russian’s full name. With that, Farelli could obtain the man’s Social Security number. And that would open up the immigrant’s whole world to them.

Farelli walked up the lawn to the front door. He rang the bell and stepped back.

The door cracked open, its chain still in place. An elderly woman peeked out. “Yes?” she said in a weak voice.

Farelli showed her his shield. “Ma’am, I’m from the police department. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I could.”

“About what?”

“About the Russian who did some work for you.”

“I haven’t seen him for so long,” the woman said. “Is he all right?”

“It might be best if we talked about it inside.”

She unchained the door and led the way into a small living room. The furniture was very old, but nicely polished. A brick fireplace was filled with red-hot ashes and bits of charred wood. The room seemed very warm to Farelli. He waited for her to sit in a padded rocking chair. Then he took a seat on the sofa across from her.

“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” Farelli began. “Vladie was shot to death by some robbers.”

The woman nodded slowly. “I was afraid of that. You know, this is not a safe neighborhood.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Farelli glanced over at the bars on the window and the chains and locks on the front door. “I understand Vladie fixed your TV cable?”

The woman stared at the detective briefly. “That’s not against the law, is it?”

“No, ma’am,” Farelli said. “I’m just trying to make sure we have the right fellow.” He reached into his coat pocket for the snapshot of the Russian. “Is this Vladie?”

“That’s Vladie,” she said softly.

“Do you know his last name?”

“Belov,” she told him, and then spelled it out. “
B-e-l-o-v
.”

Farelli jotted down the information in his notepad. “Did he live around here?”

The woman motioned with her head to the rear of the house. “He lived in a small apartment in the backyard. When my husband was alive, he used it as a workshop. After he passed away, I made it into a small apartment to rent out.”

“Could I take a look at it?” Farelli asked eagerly.

“I don’t see why not,” she said. “But let me call the dog first.”

The woman let out a sharp whistle. Farelli heard thumping sounds on the floor of the nearby kitchen. A moment later a huge rottweiler ran into the living room. He sat on his haunches next to the old woman and carefully measured Farelli.

“This is Taffy,” the woman announced. “He makes sure nothing bad happens to me.”

“I’ll bet,” Farelli said, thinking that Taffy was such a sweet name for a dog that could bite the ass off an elephant. “Why didn’t he bark when I came to the front door?”

“Because I told him to be quiet.”

The rottweiler came over and sniffed Farelli’s shoes. Apparently satisfied, he went back to his mistress.

Farelli asked, “Will I need a key to get into Vladie’s apartment?”

The woman shook her head. “Vladie never felt the need to lock his door with Taffy around.”

Farelli walked through the kitchen and out into a well-kept backyard. The green lawn was closely cut, the hedges evenly trimmed. Off to the side was a small wooden structure with a door but no windows. Farelli went inside.

There was only one room, and the furnishings were spare and old. There was a stained sink and counter on one side of the room, a fold-out sofa and scarred coffee table on the other. A phone was on the floor atop a phone book. Farelli peeked into the tiny bathroom and saw a basin and toilet, but no tub or shower. A dirty towel hung from a hook on the wall.

Farelli stepped over to the coffee table and examined a stack of opened letters. Most were sent from Russia and addressed in English to Vladimir Belov. The letters themselves were written in Russian. Farelli got to the last envelope. It was unstamped with only Belov’s name typed on it. Inside was an employee pay statement. Vladimir Belov worked for the Family Planning Medical Center.

Farelli quickly reached for the phone book and flipped through the yellow pages until he came to the ad for the medical center. It read:

“Son of a bitch,” Farelli muttered, ripping the yellow page out of the book.

Mervin Tuch was driving down Pico Boulevard toward Century City, the sunroof on his BMW open. He whistled happily, all of his problems fading away. With Lucy Rabb’s Bio-Med stock as collateral, the bank was delighted to give him a loan of five hundred thousand dollars. The bankers were particularly delighted when they learned that one hundred thousand of the loan would go to pay down the note Tuch already owed them. And had today not been Saturday, the transaction would have been signed and sealed and the money transferred. But that was no problem, Tuch thought contentedly. Monday would be soon enough.

Let’s see now
, Tuch thought on as he planned his weekend activities. Today he’d go to his office and doctor the files on the escrow accounts so they showed that funds had been inadvertently transferred to his account. An honest mistake. His law partners might not believe him, but they would accept what he told them as long as the money was repaid. It would take at least two hours for him to fix the files, Tuch decided. Maybe as much as three hours. Whatever. After he was done, he’d reward himself with lunch at the Beverly Wilshire. He’d have the barbecued chicken salad with mustard sauce. His favorite. Then he’d call Lucy and go over to the
Argonaut
for a quick screw.

He felt himself stir as he thought about Lucy Rabb and her fantastic body and even more fantastic mouth. She was so great in bed. And she was also so stupid, so easy to manipulate. All he had to do was keep screwing her and she’d do whatever he wanted.

Tuch turned left onto the Avenue of the Stars, then made another wide left and entered the underground parking of the Century Tower. He didn’t notice the black Toyota behind him.

Tuch drove down to the second level and parked in his reserved space. The whole area was empty with no cars in sight. Lazy people, Tuch chuckled to himself. If they were as ambitious as he was, they, too, could get their hands on five hundred thousand dollars for a few hours’ work.