Ogrodnik Interior 2.0c (16 page)

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Elliot unlocked the door at his father’s house and turned the lights on.

He thought he should feel relieved after making his decision, but he didn’t. The first thing he did was open a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet and poured a glass. He needed to talk to Jake and Rivka to let them know what was happening.

“Hello,” he heard on the other end of the line.

“Jake,” he said and let the words hang for a moment. “It’s Dad.”

“Dad. How are you?” Jake answered. Elliot heard a question behind the question that asked, "
Why are you calling me?
’

“Is something wrong?” Jake added before his father could reply.

“Yes and no. I’ve got myself involved in a situation that may affect the people around me, so I’m calling to give you a warning and explain myself before it goes any further.”

“Okay,” answered Jake cautiously.

Elliot proceeded to tell Jake about how he started looking for his grandfather’s killer and where it had led him over the past week. The only sounds from Jake were grunts of acknowledgement.

“So Jake, in order to make this right, I’m stopping the investigation immediately. That should appease the powers that be. I’d also like you to take a hiatus from school for a couple of weeks. I want you to go somewhere where nobody can find you. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Use cash only, and don’t call anyone. These people are more powerful than you can imagine. Look at my Facebook page every day, and I’ll give you updates if there are any.“

“OK, I’ll leave in the morning. Be careful, Dad.”

“You too, son.”

“Hello.”

“Riv,” Elliot blurted.
“Oh, hi. How’s the fire?”

“The fire was mostly confined to the front door and porch.”

“What happened?”

“It was arson, Riv. It was a warning from our friends. They also left a clear message.”

“Oh?”

“On the kitchen table, they left photos of me, you, and Jake: all taken from a distance with a telephoto lens. We’ve all been under surveillance.”

“Riv,” he said to stop her from saying anything yet. “They also left a photo of Dad, turned face down on the table.”

“The bastards. We’ll get them, Elliot.”

“No, Riv. I’m conceding. I’m waving the white flag. I can’t put those closest to me in danger any longer. I can’t risk it, Riv. It’s not worth it. I’m telling Banik and Yilmaz that we’re shutting down the investigation and walking away.”

“Elliot, they killed your father,” Rivka yelled trying and failing to keep her voice from cracking. “What about the Stungun Killer? You’ll let him walk away? Are you telling me you want to turn your back on all of them?”

“Rivka, we can’t win,” he said, resignation ringing in his voice. “They have resources we can’t even comprehend. Every time we turn, they’re already there. We can’t bring back my father, Frank, or your niece, but we can live to fight another day.”

“Knowing that we could have made a difference and then not following through is not living, Elliot,” said Rivka as her voice shook. “It’s dying!”

The phone disconnected.

Rivka tossed the phone into her purse in irritation.

How could he do that?
she thought
. He can’t make that kind of decision on his own. He can’t let these killers just walk away. They killed his bloody father. What was he thinking?
She wondered how she ever considered Elliot a friend, how she had ever admired him. How did she not see this side of him before?
He was nothing but a goddamn coward.

“Enver Yilmaz.”

“One moment, please,” answered the receptionist in her usual efficient manner.

A few minutes later, a voice answered on the phone.

“Yilmaz here.”

“Yilmaz, Elliot Forsman.”

“What do you want, Forsman?” Yilmaz answered without enthusiasm.

“I got your message; I’m shutting down the investigation. Call off your dogs, and I promise not to pursue the matter any longer.”

“Wise choice, Forsman.”

“What assurances do I have that you’ll back off?”

“All I can offer is my word.”

“Stay away from me
and mine,” spat Elliot as he slammed the phone down
.

“Banik, Yilmaz here.”

“Go ahead.”

“Forsman just called. He’s says he’s dropping the case.”

“Do you believe him?”

“It doesn’t matter. He knows too much. I’m going to take him and his partner out. I’ll do it quietly and make them disappear. ”

“Do what you have to do.”

“Hello, Anne. Elliot here.”

“Elliot! Quel surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m enjoying a nice glass of 2006 Bordeaux de Treux and thought to myself, 'This would really go well with some female accompaniment.' Interested?”

“’I’m always willing to moisten my palette.”

“That sounds indecent.”

“What’s your address? I’ll call a cab.”

“620a Elm Avenue.”

“You’re upstairs?”

Elliot stomped on the floor with his heel three times to acknowledge Anne’s question.

“Oh, how unusual. You rode your horse.”

“Naaaayyyy.”

“I’ll be up shortly, horse man.”

Elliot refilled his glass and poured another for Anne while he waited and did not permit himself to think of the case or his recent decision to back off. He hooked his phone up to the stereo and played some Van Morrison. Van played an unusual blend of jazz, soul, and traditional Celtic music that was all pulled together by Van’s throaty voice that filled the musical hollows without overpowering them. Just as "Tupelo Honey" was concluding, he heard a knock on the basement door followed by the sound of a slide lock being opened. He opened the door on his side and was greeted by Anne in a tight, black t-shirt dress that covered everything but hid nothing. She was stunning. Elliot stood at the door with a wine glass in each hand, and all thoughts of the pleasant conversation to come vanished when he saw her. The intended greeting kiss morphed into something long and deep.

Hours later, the light of the moon crept across the floor to reveal two still full wine glasses standing sentry over a rumpled black dress.

Elliot lay in Anne’s bed looking at her back as she slept facing the wall. Her shoulders and back were uncovered, and he watched in fascination as her back rose and fell slowly with each breath. She had the toned musculature of an athlete, and he wondered what she did to keep in shape. A small birthmark on her neck, just below the ear, caught his attention. Without thinking he reached up and touched it lightly with his finger, tracing around and over it. His touch was light, but it was enough to wake Anne.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” she said lazily.

“That ship sailed last night.”

“Ha-ha, I guess you’re right. It’s Friday. Do you have plans for the day? You’ve probably got work to do on your case.”

“Nope. No plans and no case.”

Anne turned over to look at Elliot with a questioning look.

“Remember when I told you that I was investigating my father’s murder? “ Anne nodded. “Well, I seem to have gotten myself involved deeper than I wanted. When we last talked about it, I told you that I thought Dad had been murdered, and I was looking into it.”

“Of course, I remember.”

“Well, we confirmed that theory and managed to get a lead on the killers, at least we did on one of them. One of our part-time PIs, Frank Girard, tailed the perp to see where he went and whom he met with. When Rivka went to relieve him at the stakeout, she found him in his car dead, his neck broken.”

“Oh, my God! That’s terrible.”

“Before she could call it in, she was also assaulted by the killer. She’s okay. The killer's intent was to scare her. And he did a good job of that.”

Anne shifted so that she leaned up on her elbow to look directly at Elliot while he spoke.

“Frank Girard was an ex-cop, so it didn’t take long for the Montreal Chief of Police to drag us in for an interview. Yesterday morning he ordered us off the case and assigned it to a couple of detectives. So Rivka and I were on the sidelines and the two cops had taken over our case. Yesterday afternoon I got another call from one of the detectives saying that if I wanted to see what happened, I should get over to the killer's house. Rivka and I drove over and found the killer in his lounger with a hole in his mouth. He’d committed suicide.“ Elliot gathered his thoughts for a moment. Anne was completely silent as she listened intently.

“There was also a folder on his table with irrefutable proof that he was involved in my father’s death. I pretended to be impressed but did not buy that story for one second. It was all too neat and tidy. And then, on my way home, I got another call from my neighbor telling me that my house was on fire. When I got there, the firemen were just cleaning up.”

“My God, Elliot! Did the house burn down?”

“No, the damage was moderate, but I can’t live there until someone fixes the front entrance. My laptop was gone, and in its place were four photos on the table. A photo of me, one of Rivka, one of my son, Jake, and a photo of Dad turned face down. It didn’t take much soul searching to realize what I had to do. I’m packing it in. They win, Anne. I won’t endanger those closest to me. I can’t. This is not their fight.”

Elliot found telling the story was therapeutic and felt better about his decision than he had yesterday. He’d left out a lot of the details. He didn’t tell her about Rivka and the Stungun theory, about Sammy’s thumb or anything about Biovonix and Alex Banik. They were details she didn’t need to know.

“What are you going to do? What’s going to happen to JFK?”

“I don’t want to think about JFK, or the case that was. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“I can’t compete with that kind of story. By day I’m a boring administrative assistant for a couple of overfed executives. By night I’m just as boring. I read or watch TV. I don’t go out much. If I discount the occasional dinner out, I haven’t had a relationship in a few years. When I want to get away, I drive out to the Eastern Townships. I don’t have any family in the area. My parents are no longer with us, and I have a step-brother whom I don’t keep in touch with.”

“Sounds like you lead a....a tranquil life,” was the best he could come up with.

“Tranquil? If you mean boring, you’re right. But I can’t complain. I live my little life. I’m quite happy where I am. I’m a homebody. I have to admit that I miss your father. I enjoyed the time we spent together.”

“So if you don’t mind me probing, why no relationships?”

“I’m damaged goods, Elliot. You’ve heard the story before: abusive relationship, self-esteem issues, afraid to let go, so it went on too long. And, as they say, once bitten, twice shy.”

“Well, you didn’t seem shy last night.”

“If you’re not working on the case, then what do you say we take a drive out to the country today?”

“What do you have in mind?” he asked.

“When I want to get away from it all, I drive out to North Hatley and stay at the Ripplewave Inn. What would you think about spending a couple of nights there, just you and me? It’ll help take your mind off the case and let you unwind. You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks.”

Elliot thought about it for a moment. “Make it so, Number One.”

Anne got up out of bed and opened her closet to find some clothes. Elliot watched as she flittered about the room picking out clothing before she showered. The fact that she was completely naked while a man she barely knew watched her did not seem to faze her. She went about her business completely unaware of what affect her exposure was having on him, or did she?

Once her clothes for the day were neatly arranged on a chair beside the closet, she made her way into the ensuite shower. Elliot thought about joining her but decided that there’d be plenty of time for that when they got to the inn. As he lay in bed, he couldn’t help but think of the case.

What was Biovonix doing?

Why would they kill his father?

Why did they hire mercenaries?

How did they manage to gain control over the police, especially the chief?

What role did the big man play in all this?

Was he really the Stungun Killer?

What was his relationship with Biovonix?

His contemplations were interrupted when Anne came out of the ensuite. She was wrapped in a towel that was ridiculously too small to hide anything, and her hair was still wet and brushed back. Elliot couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Have you never seen a nearly naked woman before?” she said as she laughed.

It took Elliot a moment to snap back to the present. “None as exquisite as you. Can I borrow your towel?”

“Save it, horndog. If we’re going out to the townships, we need to get going. You know what the traffic can be like on a Friday."

As Anne was putting on her face, Elliot pulled out his phone and called Rivka. Rivka answered and didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Elliot, please don’t call me anymore. You did what you needed to do, and I’ll do what I need to do.”

The phone disconnected.

He dialed her number again to explain himself but it went directly to voicemail. Rivka had turned her phone off.

Elliot and Anne headed south on the Bonaventure Expressway, across the Champlain Bridge and continued south onto the Number 10 Highway. After forty minutes of driving, the striped farmland slowly gave way to rolling hills and then into the low rounded mountains of the Eastern Townships. The conversation was light and easy, and Elliot thought about the previous evening. It was the first time he felt physically and mentally attracted to a woman since his wife had passed and was surprised he felt no guilt. He considered it a sign that he was ready to move on in his life.