Annie Seymour 01-Sacred Cows (18 page)
“It’s getting late.” So he and my mother were co-conspirators. “I think you better call in.”
“I look that bad?”
“Yes.”
I picked up the phone. This was a man who thought I looked good anytime, anyplace. If he was telling me I looked awful, I must really look like shit.
Marty picked up on the first ring.
“Where are you?”
“I’m not feeling well.”
“So?”
I never call in sick. I’m one of those annoying people co-workers curse because I’ll just bring a big box of tissues and suffer through my day.
“I can’t come in.” Not to mention that I didn’t sound sick.
“Oh.” He hesitated, uncertain about this curious turn of events.
The hell with it. “Okay, Marty, this is the scoop. I got mugged last night. Someone threatened me and then someone beat me up and tried to abduct me.”
“Sure, Annie. Fine. I believe you’re sick. You don’t have to make up stuff.”
“I’m not making it up.”
He actually laughed. “Give me a break. What time will you come in?”
I sighed. “I’m not coming in, Marty. I got mugged. Tom’s here. He’s going to try to find out if it’s connected to Melissa Peabody.”
Silence. I could hear him thinking. Then finally, “You’re serious.”
“Damned straight I’m serious. Would I joke around about something like this?”
“Yes.”
Okay, so I probably would.
“Today’s the cow inaugural,” he said.
“Then it’s a good day to be sick.”
“We’ve got a team working on that. You’re really not coming in? I need some stuff for the police blotter, and no one else can get the cops to give them anything.”
He knew how to make me feel guilty. “Listen, I could make some cop calls, send a couple of things over by e-mail.”
“It would be a big help.” I could tell the cows were going to weigh heavily on Marty until they were gone.
“I’ve got a cow covered in pepperonis outside my window.”
He laughed. “That’s the Mooster Street cow.”
It was going to be a long two months.
Tom was getting his coat on. “I’ll give you a call later.”
“Will you tell me if you find the guy who did this?”
He walked over to me and took my face in his hands. “I’ll kill him, I swear.” Then he kissed me and left.
I’m not quite sure what to do with myself when I’m not working. I like to read, but my attention span is short unless I’ve got something really riveting. I looked over my bookshelves and found nothing that fell into that category. At least nothing I hadn’t already read. I turned on the TV and channel-surfed while I finished my coffee. I spent a few minutes with Ellen, then less time with Dr. Phil. I skipped over Elmo and the Sesame Street gang and some crafty shit on the Home & Garden network. It was a wasteland. I was sorry it wasn’t later in the day. I admit to being secretly hooked on
General Hospital.
My mother used to watch it before she became Super Lawyer and through osmosis I got stuck on it.
I called a couple of police stations and got the runaround. I wanted to call Bill Bennett and ask him if my pension money was in Mark Torrey’s Channel Islands account, but toasted a bagel instead. When the phone rang, I jumped on it, eager for any human contact.
“I’m on my way over.” It was Vinny.
“What for?”
“I think I’ve got something.”
But before I could ask what, he’d hung up. Within minutes, my doorbell rang. I buzzed him in.
“Your friend Hickey knows more than he’s saying.” Vinny bounded over to the window in my living room and turned around to see my reaction.
Which was, pissed off.
“Can’t you even say hello?”
“Hello. Hickey knows something. I’m sure of it.”
“Do you want a cup of coffee?”
“Black. Don’t you want to know what I think?”
I’d spent the last twenty years not even aware that Vinny DeLucia was alive, so to wonder what he was thinking seemed a little out there. I went into the kitchen and poured him some coffee. My silence was annoying him. For the first time that day I was enjoying myself.
When I came out of the kitchen, Vinny made a face. “Oh, Christ, you look awful.”
I handed Vinny the cup and sat down. “Thanks a lot.”
“Sorry. But you usually look so much, well, better than that.”
It didn’t exactly sound like a compliment, but I decided to take it as one. “Okay, tell me what Hickey knows.”
“Hickey’s got a secret bank account.”
“Like he wouldn’t. Listen, he’s a fucking pimp. Wouldn’t you have a secret account?” I sounded more cocky than I felt. I admit I was intrigued.
“But one that gets money dumped in it regularly from the McGee Corporation, via the Channel Islands?”
I straightened up, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. “How much money?”
“Thousands at a time.”
“No shit. How do you know?”
Vinny smiled. “I have my ways.”
“You’re a computer geek, aren’t you? You hacked into some secret place and found it, didn’t you?” I always wanted to hack into an important place like a bank or the federal government, just to see how it was done, just to see what I could find out. But my computer skills are minimal at best.
Vinny continued to smile and sip his coffee.
“So it’s for more than the girls?”
“It’s too much to be just for the girls.”
I thought for a minute. “You know, I think he was really trying to help me.”
“Then why didn’t he tell you about this? He wasn’t up front about his relationship with Torrey.”
“Maybe he didn’t know what Torrey was up to.”
“Oh, come on. He had to know something. And maybe Melissa found out and that’s what got her killed.”
“Tom thinks it was David Best.”
“Yeah, and there’s a cow on every corner.”
“There
is
a cow on every corner. Haven’t you seen them?”
“Right. I bumped into one outside City Hall. It was covered in mirrors.”
I didn’t want to talk about the cows. They gave me the creeps. “I think Melissa was asking questions. I think Torrey killed her. So how do we prove that? Torrey’s nowhere to be found. He’s got people’s money that he’s not supposed to have. Since you’re a computer genius, can you find out about that?”
Vinny shook his head. “Torrey’s covered his tracks so well even I can’t trace him. It’s too bad you pissed him off.”
“Right. Blame me.”
“You did piss him off.”
“Don’t remind me. What’s our next step?”
“We have to find out what Hickey knows.”
“What if it was Hickey who did this to me last night?” I pointed to the scrape on my chin.
“Amateurs.”
“What?”
“I don’t know who did that to you, but I’m sure that if it was someone who meant business, you’d be dead already.”
“Oh, that makes me feel better.” I was just about to call him an asshole when the phone rang. I picked it up.
“I have been advised not to give you a statement.”
“Hello, Mother. Who advised you?”
“My lawyer. And you’ll be getting a phone call from Bill.”
Great. “Why are you covering this up?”
“I’m not. I’m just not going on the record with it.”
“Who else got scammed?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“You know, though, don’t you?”
Vinny was looking out my front window, drinking his coffee, his back to me.
“I can’t believe you’re stonewalling me. This is my job.”
“And it’s my money and my life and I’d like a little privacy.” She paused. “Oh, by the way, I think Vinny DeLucia’s got a crush on you.”
I felt my face turn hot even though I knew he couldn’t hear what she was saying.
“Why do you think that?” I tried to keep my voice light.
“He’s been asking a lot of questions about you. What do you like to do in your spare time, have you been dating this police officer for a long time, is it serious, that sort of thing. I think he’s rather cute, don’t you?”
Okay, so I had a dream about him that I didn’t want to mention because it might indicate I had some deep-seated sexual feelings for the guy. But I certainly wasn’t going to tell my mother. “No. No, I don’t,” I said coldly, coldly enough for Vinny to turn around, his eyebrows arched, questioning my conversation.
“Methinks she doth protest too much.”
Sometimes I really hated my mother.
“Can’t you give me another name, someone I can talk to about Mark Torrey’s scam?”
“You don’t seem to understand, Annie. These are people who would rather not see their names splashed all over the newspaper proving they were stupid enough to get scammed.”
No shit. And what didn’t I understand? “Fine. I could keep names out of it. I just want someone on the record to tell me the feds are after Torrey and what the reason is.”
“I’ve got another call. Sorry, dear.” The dial tone pounded into my ear.
“No luck, huh?” Vinny asked when I hung up.
I shook my head. “You know, don’t you? You know who these people are. You’re working for my mother. Why can’t you tell me?”
“I’m looking for Mark Torrey. That’s my job. I get paid when I find him.”
“But why are you still hanging around me?”
“Because I think he’s going to contact you again.”
“I pissed him off, you even said it yourself.”
“I think he likes the idea of talking to a reporter. I think he wants to see his name in the paper. If it goes long enough without any news about himself, he’ll call. He wants to show off, let everyone know that he can be invisible. But no one’s that clever. He’ll slip up. And I think it’ll be because he craves attention. That’s why I’m hanging around.”
“What will you do with him once you find him?”
Vinny grinned. “I turn him over to the police and I’m a goddamned hero.”
He took a long drink from his cup and I studied his face. I lied. I did find him attractive. But I’d never admit it.
“My mother tells me you have a crush on me.”
I saw the splash of coffee come out of his nose as he sputtered, “Where’d she get that idea?”
“She says you’re asking all sorts of personal questions about me.”
He wiped his nose with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. He was stalling. “It’s for the case,” he tried.
I smiled condescendingly. “Don’t think it’s going to make any difference.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
We scowled at each other for a few seconds, but it got boring. “I’m going to call Hickey,” I said. “Maybe I can get something more out of him.” I picked up the phone.
He put his hand over mine. “Don’t let on we know about the bank account. See if he tells you first.”
I could feel the heat from his hand move up my arm and down my spine. The images from the dream came back to me, and I pulled my hand away. “What do you think I am, stupid?” I barked.
His lips parted in a slow smile, and this time I could feel it between my legs. “I love it when you talk dirty,” he whispered, and I turned my back on him, dialing and praying they’d pick up on the first ring.
I didn’t have anything. Hickey didn’t return my call. My mother wouldn’t give me anything. Paula wouldn’t give me anything on the record; she said she was only part of the investigating team and would get into deep shit if her bosses found out she was talking to me. Sometimes my job really sucked.
And then the publisher called me. At home. He said he was sorry I wasn’t feeling well, but could I try to make it in that afternoon? He had something pressing he wanted to discuss with me. I couldn’t say no: My face looks like a truck ran over me, I haven’t done laundry in more than a week, and I have no clean underwear. I was stuck like a pig. Shit.
I finally found a clean pair of slacks in the back of my closet, but when I pulled them on, they were so tight I was afraid they’d split. I remembered why they were in the back of the closet. I found a skirt, but it was in the same shape. Maybe I should try working out or something. Or maybe not. I usually just bought several items in several sizes, knowing I’d fit into them at one point or another. Aha! A knit skirt with an elastic waist tucked behind my pile of sweaters. If I pulled a shirt out of the laundry basket, who would be the wiser? I squirted a little perfume on myself and doubled up on the deodorant.
The makeup job wasn’t going to be easy. I surveyed my face in the mirror, the scrape looking like the Grand Canyon with a bloody Colorado River running through it. I touched it and winced, but fearlessly pushed ahead and smeared some foundation over it. When I was done, I still looked like hell, but it was better than before.
Walter met me in the hallway when I was locking up.
“Christ. What happened to you?”
I shrugged. “Another tough night on the wrestling circuit.”
I think he thought I was serious.
I went into the building through the executive side. I didn’t want to run into Marty or, God forbid, Dick. My investigation was stymied, and I didn’t want to have to admit that. And now Bill Bennett was going to tell me to stop where I was and not go any further.
He was leaning back in his big leather chair and motioned for me to sit in the uncomfortable straight-backed chair on the other side of his desk. I’d been in this office only once before, a long time ago, when there was still a Christmas party every year. I vaguely remember making out with someone.
“I suppose you know why you’re here,” he said. Maybe he thought I walked around all the time looking like this, because he didn’t even raise an eyebrow when I walked in.
“Mark Torrey.”
“I would prefer it if you let this one go.” It was nice the way he pretended to make it my choice.
“When they catch him . . .”
“When they catch him, we’ll assess the situation.”
He was smooth, but I wouldn’t have expected less from any man who dated my mother.
“The private investigator on the case seems to think Torrey will contact me again.”
“Then you call the police.”
It seemed easy enough, as far as he was concerned. But I couldn’t stop myself. “Between you and me, I’ve heard you invested some of the paper’s money.” It wasn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, but it was close. His eyes narrowed and I could see them grow dark.