An Absence of Light (17 page)

“Of course, it turned out that the visual security of this place was not at all what this woman had believed, not once you were inside the garden walls, which you achieved by simply coming inside the house and then going outside. Each of these eccentric bedrooms was indeed enclosed in its own small, high-walled courtyard, and stuffed with plants, palms and such. But, each courtyard also had outside the wall a small, unobtrusive ledge built along the footing of the wall. If you stepped onto the ledge you could look over the wall and see everything inside. There were also hose bibs there, and a watering hose, the ostensible purpose, I’m sure, for the ledge being there.”

Last stopped and lighted another cigarette. He smoked a moment.

“The house was roughly the shape of a hexagon or octagon or something, you know, roundish but having straight walls. I stayed well out of the light in the irregular lawn interrupted by shrubbery. Came to the first bedroom. Stepped up on the ledge and looked over. Sure enough, laughably, a woman perched on the potty, her dress gathered up around her, looking rather defiantly, I thought, straight out the glass wall at me. I ducked reflexively and then came back up and saw her still there, still staring at me, her feet splayed, her hands resting in her lap and holding a bunch of tissue. She couldn’t see me at all, even if I’d raised my hands and waved at her. I think the glass walls were coated somehow, to make the outside more opaque. I watched her finish, dry herself, and get up, and flush the toilet.

“I watched for a bit, two more ladies. This was rather fascinating, I found, the different little ways they tended to themselves. I finished my cigarette and decided to go around to the other bedroom. I passed the next atrium, another room of guests, and was just about to round the next shallow corner when I became aware of voices ahead of me, just around the corner. I stopped, held my breath, and listened. Yes, indeed. Two men’s voices. I eased to the corner, next to which, luckily, a loquat tree was standing. Using this as a screen, I peeped around. Two men were standing on the ledge at the foot of the garden wall of the next bedroom. They were watching whatever women were in the bedroom, but they were doing so as though the action in there was rather sort of incidental entertainment Their drink glasses were sitting atop the wall, as were their raised elbows, and they were smoking and in conversation.”

Last paused to take another puff on his cigarette. He seemed to be thinking of how to proceed, maybe even, Graver thought, savoring the story.

“Now, this is weird, I know,” he said, “but I
overheard
this one guy expressing disbelief, believingly expressing disbelief, if you know what I mean. The second man said, no, it was true. It had been some time getting arranged, but that they finally had done it He said their ‘access’ to intelligence ‘and its processes’ was solid and had been tested several times. The first man wanted to know how long this had been going on. ‘A while,’ was all the second man said. They paused a bit, sipped their drinks, and watched someone in the loo. The second man stepped down off the ledge, lighted a cigarette, and stepped up again.

“Second man said he understood the first man was having trouble with a certain competitor. He asked what it would be worth to him to rid himself of this guy. First man said his volume would jump thirty percent. Second man asked would he be interested in eliminating him. First man asked was a pig’s ass pork.”

Last stopped at this and laughed. “American eloquence. I hadn’t heard that one. Stunning.” He smoked. “The second man said they needed to talk about that First man said he didn’t know of anything his competitor was doing that was illegal. Second man said that didn’t matter, things could be worked out” Last paused. “They got interested in someone in the loo again and then the first man wanted to talk about it some more. Just think a bit about it, the second man said. They would get together again and explore the idea some more. They polished off their drinks, very quietly watched someone in the loo for a few minutes, and then the second man said they’d better get back or they’d be missed. That was it. I had to get out of there.”

Last brought his hand to his mouth again, and the tip of the cigarette glowed and died.

“I didn’t hear anything about the police in that,” Graver said. “Everyone has intelligence capabilities now. Business, industry.”

“But when the second fellow asked the first if he wanted to eliminate his competitor, the first said his competitor wasn’t doing anything ‘illegal.’ Why would that figure into the picture at all if they weren’t cops? Who moves against illegalities? Who could use an ‘illegality’ as a means to close down a business?”

Graver shook his head, not altogether convinced. This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he thought he was going to hear. It was too vague.

“Did you get a good look at these guys?”

“I think so. Their profiles, anyway.”

“The owner of the house wasn’t one of them?”

“No.”

“Who owned the house?”

Last shifted in his chair. “How’s that going to help you?”

“I don’t know. It sure as hell won’t help if I don’t know.”

“You want me to find out these two guys’ names? I’ll do that.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Look, this man collects ‘native American’ art I’m trying to interest him in pre-Columbian stuff. It could be very good for me. Pre-Columbian is going to be very big. The free trade business is going to open up Mexican-interest marketing possibilities. I’m the newest thing in his life right now, Graver. Some of your clubfooted boys start mewling about asking questions, and this guy’s going to ask why people are snooping around him all of a sudden. He’s going to say to himself: Victor Last shows up and now people are asking questions.” Last took one more hit off his cigarette and dropped it to the tile and stepped on it “I don’t have to explain this kind of thing to you, Graver.”

“No, you don’t And I don’t have to explain to you that what you’ve just told me is interesting. I think it’s mildly amusing that men stand outside bathrooms and watch women urinate, but this definitely is not good take, Victor.”

Graver could see enough to see Last grinning across the table.

“Well, I suppose it depends on what it is you’re looking for, doesn’t it,” Last said. He shifted in his chair, crossed his legs the other way. “You want names.”

“Of course I do. And let’s see if we can’t find out if ‘the second man’s’ intelligence operation is in the police department or in the American Southwest Meat Packers Association.”

Last clucked his tongue at Graver’s sarcasm and stared across the table. “Come on, Graver,” Last said softly, “tell me. Didn’t I hit on something?”

Graver’s response was immediate and a surprise even to himself.

“Okay, Victor. The truth is, no, you didn’t hit on anything. If you’ve discovered a breach in CID security, it’s news to me. But if you
have
discovered something, I sure as hell want to know more about it. I’m just not convinced you have, that’s all.”

Last nodded, slowly and for several moments. “Okay, Graver,” he said finally, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Graver stood too.

“You still swim laps?” Last asked, his hands in his pocket as he looked down at the water.

“Yeah.”

Last nodded his head. “Very disciplined. Admirable. Really.”

He started toward his car and Graver followed him a few steps across the patio. When Last got to the Mercedes, he walked around to the driver’s side, put his hand on the door handle and looked across the top of the car. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

“That’s fine,” Graver said, and Last opened the Mercedes door. “But, Victor,” Graver added, “don’t ever come back here again.”

Last grinned at Graver across the top of the car, got inside, and closed the door. Graver watched as Last backed down the cinder drive to the street and drove away.

Too much was happening; sleep had become a rare commodity, and Graver no longer had the peace of mind to acquire it After Last’s departure there remained only a few hours for him to toss among the sheets, trying to turn off his mind. When the alarm finally sounded, he was both exhausted and grateful and rolled out of bed with a headache. He showered and dressed and left the house without even considering making his own breakfast Instead, he stopped at a coffee shop on the way downtown and sat at a window table while he downed several cups of stout, black coffee with his bacon and eggs and watched the city slowly awaken to a clear hot day.

Because he had got out of bed immediately and had not taken the time to make his own breakfast, he beat Lara to the office by nearly an hour. That was fine, he needed the time to get himself together. After putting his briefcase on his desk, he went across the hall and started a pot of coffee. While he waited for it to brew he stepped into Lara’s office and left a note on her desk to tell Paula, Neuman, and Burtell to be ready for a nine o’clock meeting in his office. He also asked her not to disturb him. Then he poured himself a cup of coffee and went into his office and closed his door.

There was a lot to think about, and while he had eaten breakfast he had made some decisions. The first was that he resolved to have Westrate’s report ready by the end of the day.

He turned on his computer and tapped in the license plate number he had seen on Last’s Mercedes. The car belonged to a Camilla Reeder who lived in a condominium in far west Houston. Ms. Reeder was thirty-one years old and listed her employment as a cosmetics representative for Laurel Cosmetics. She had no criminal history. Last seemed to have become acquainted with an unmarked woman—on the face of it at least—which was an improvement for him.

Graver then turned his computer inquiries in another direction. He typed Last’s name into NCIC to get a report on Last’s most recent activities. He hadn’t kept up with his career in nearly a decade, not in detail anyway. After that, he typed a brief inquiry document to be sent to the major intelligence agencies requesting MO and crime analysis subject category matches on Victor Last’s career markers. It was time to see if Last had been back to his old ways.

After sending this out on the lines, Graver turned back to his desk and set about making notes on these as well as the essential elements of his conversations with Paula and Neuman.

At five minutes before nine o’clock, he opened his door and said good morning to Lara. Standing at her desk, he gave her a list of things he wanted done, briefly discussing each item on the list before he turned and went back into the office.

He went over his notes again and was making last-minute notations when he heard Paula’s voice outside in the hallway followed by Lara’s laughter. The door opened and they came in one after the other, Paula, Burtell, and Neuman, each of them carrying notebooks and folders and something to drink. Everyone said good morning as they shoved their chairs around to suit them and sat down.

Graver, trying to cover the self-consciousness he felt in Burtell’s presence, moved brusquely into business. He knew Paula and Neuman would be watching to see how he was going to play it.

“First thing,” he said. “Late yesterday afternoon Jack Westrate called and told me that Homicide and IAD had agreed to call Tisler’s death a suicide. Nothing sinister to it.”

Casey Neuman sipped from the canned soft drink he had brought in, and Paula stared straight at Graver without comment. Burtell turned away and looked out the windows. The file folders of the five Tisler investigations were on his lap, and he was holding a mug of coffee which rested on the folders. Graver couldn’t really tell how he was taking this news. He did not want to dwell on it and was glad Burtell was going to let it pass without comment.

“That, of course, is a big break for us,” he went on. “I don’t know if you’ve come up with anything, but the momentum of presumption is in our favor with that ruling. But I’ve still got to produce a summary, a ‘clean slate’ document to put in the files. So let’s get down to it. You guys finding anything in Tisler’s folders that raise questions?” He went straight to Burtell. “Dean, what about it? You see anything noteworthy in the documents you reviewed?”

Burtell turned from the windows and shook his head. He looked down at the folders resting in his lap.

“No, I didn’t see anything in here,” he said. “Nothing even remotely curious. Art had routinely updated them as per regulations, but nothing significant had changed in any of them in over a year. Unremarkable in just about every way.”

Graver waited a moment, looking at Burtell who had recovered considerably from the day before. He appeared to have got more sleep, got his emotions in order, though he was subdued as the occasion required. But Graver watched him for something else, perhaps an unnatural insouciance, a glimmer of an affectation in his manner, however slight.

“Okay,” Graver said. He turned to Paula.

“No, nothing here, either,” she said. “But for the record I want to state that I had only one day to look over these folders. I can’t say that represents a thorough examination. It was just enough time for a… cursory review. But, no, in my cursory review I didn’t find anything that would make me suspect anything untoward in the collection process.”

Burtell kept his eyes on some vague spot on the front of Graver’s desk and sipped his coffee.

“Do you think you need more time, is that it?” Graver asked. He had to. Paula had practically said she didn’t have enough time.

“I don’t know that that would be justified now, in light of the ruling from Homicide,” Paula said. “I just don’t want it recorded that I conducted a major audit here.”

“Okay, noted,” Graver said.

Paula, as usual, was playing her game with unyielding rigor. Even when deceiving Burtell, she didn’t want him to think he could put something over on her. If there was something there to discover, she implied, she would bloody well find it if she were given the proper amount of time to examine the documents. Jesus. Graver could have shot her, but, in the end, her reaction was probably best Burtell might have sensed something awry if all three of them had just rolled over. Paula, after all, was being Paula.