Damaged Goods (40 page)

After his recent experience, Hannibal was naturally concerned with safety features. This car's seats would rock back in a crash to absorb whiplash and even had overhead airbags in case he decided to roll another car over. He was sold. Except that the car was already paid for, and registered in his name.

Hannibal christened his new ride with a drive-through lunch and a short but nimble hop down the beltway to Blair's house. He wasn't sure how many Bang and Olufsen speakers were thumping Aerosmith from the satellite radio, but he was childishly pleased to be able to turn it down without moving his hands from the steering wheel.

From the number of vehicles gathered outside of Blair's townhouse, everyone he asked for had come to meet him. The face he most wanted to see smiled at him from the front steps. She had waited outside for him.

Cindy met him at the car door and he wrapped her in a crushing grip. After the hug he pulled away and held her at arms length, just to look at her. Her beauty still hit him like a tsunami and he wanted so badly to end the suspense between them but he knew that business must come first.

“Let me get this case out of the car, baby, then we'll talk through it all together, close out this ragged case, and be able to get on with our lives.”

Inside, an air of tension charged the atmosphere. Ben Blair's living room felt more like a conference room to Hannibal. This was partly because it was larger than any room in a townhouse had a right to be. Adding to the conference room feel, the group gathered there was arrayed around the room with him as its focus, as if they were awaiting a briefing. Everyone had taken a champagne glass from a tray near the door, drinks probably poured by Anita Cooper. Standing in front of the big screen television, he felt as if he should thank the Academy.

His eyes went across his audience, noticing how they had arranged themselves. Cindy sat on his right in one of the armchairs, her fingers tapping the handle of the briefcase Hannibal brought in with him. She beamed up at him, sending out waves of support for what she knew would be a difficult task. Sarge and Marquita shared the loveseat, with Sarge being the only other person present who knew what was coming. Benjamin Blair had the sofa to himself. He sat directly in front of Hannibal, smiling but seeming wary all the same. His elbows rested on his knees with his fingers loosely laced in front of him, but his right heel bounced on the carpet.

Anita occupied the chair on Hannibal's left, with Henry standing beside her. Her right hand crossed her body to hold Henry's hand on her left armrest. She appeared ready for whatever came, as long as it meant an end to this business
once and for all. That much, Hannibal knew he could promise. After a small sip, he raised his glass toward his host.

“Before I say anything else, I want to thank you, Ben, for being one of those rare clients who pays promptly. And also for the very nice bonus I drove up in.” He paused a moment for Blair to nod but, he noticed, not blush. “I hope you don't regret it when I give you the rather disappointing news.”

Blair didn't react at all, his poker face probably honed from years of business dealings. It was Anita who gasped, “I don't understand. Didn't you get it?”

Hannibal moved closer to her and looked into her brown eyes. He dropped his report quickly, wording it with great care, working to remain truthful, if incomplete.

“I'm afraid the formula is lost to you, Anita.”

“Lost?” Blair asked. “Didn't this Rod Mantooth have it?”

“Yes he did,” Hannibal said. “When I arrived he was about to sell it to a Colombian drug cartel. But there was a conflict, as you might imagine. That led to a gunfight. When it all ended, the Colombians were all dead, and so was Rod. Neither had the formula on them. It wasn't on Mantooth's computer either. Frankly, I can't say that it even exists anymore and I don't think it will ever surface.”

Of that much Hannibal could be sure, since he erased, degaussed and reformatted the disc himself in Huge's studio. Someday, some kid would be listening to music on that once-valuable CD.

“So, you failed to return Ms. Cooper's legacy,” Blair said in a cold voice. Everyone else was silent for a beat.

“But the monster who hurt Anita is gone,” Henry said. There was no confusing his priorities.

“Yes, he is,” Hannibal said. “Rod Mantooth died an ugly death. And, while Anita doesn't have the formula, she will still profit from it.” Hannibal pushed the case toward Anita. “This is in fact the cash value of your father's formula, Anita. This case contains the money the cartel was prepared to pay Rod for the information he stole from you. I couldn't resist counting it. It's eight hundred thousand dollars in used, unmarked bills. And I can say with confidence that no one
will ever come looking for this money. So, in my mind, this makes you whole. Along with finding Rod Mantooth and making sure he won't bother you or any other women again, I think this fulfills my contract.”

While Hannibal spoke, Anita pulled the case onto her lap and opened it. Her mouth worked for a moment without letting out a sound, and she began to softly cry.

“I think she is satisfied,” Henry said. Then to Anita, “Whatever will you do with all that money, my dear?”

“I'll need some help with that,” Anita said. “Can you?”

“I'm prepared to offer whatever assistance you may require, Anita,” Henry said, kneeling beside the chair, “for the rest of your life if I may.”

“That sounded suspiciously like a proposal,” Sarge said from across the room.

“Well if it was,” Anita said, “It is certainly welcome.” Henry's face reflected surprise as well as joy, and then their smiles merged into one. Blair stood up, his own smile beaming as well.

“It sounds to me as if we have a big and beautiful ceremony to plan.”

Cindy and Marquita rushed across the floor to congratulate Anita, with Sarge bringing up the rear, shaking Henry's hand and slapping him on the back. Hannibal moved around the circle, waiting his turn. As he edged closer, Blair playfully slapped his arm to get his attention. When Hannibal looked up, Blair snapped his head to motion toward the kitchen. While the others celebrated, the two men slipped into the next room. Blair walked to the far end of the kitchen. Hannibal followed. When Blair opened his mouth with a question, Hannibal raised a hand to stop him.

“Let's cut to the chase,” he said. “You wanted the formula for your own pharmaceutical concern.”

“We could do a lot of good,” Blair said.

“And make a lot of money, but the decision was taken out of your hands,” Hannibal said in a cold voice. “You don't get it. No one does. It could mean Anita's life.”

Blair nodded, maintaining his easy smile. “I trust you to have done the right thing. But at some point, do I get the whole story?”

Hannibal nodded. With all his other traits, he should have known Blair would be a graceful loser. “Not today but, yes, I owe you that. Leave it alone for now, and tomorrow in your office I'll give you chapter and verse.” Hannibal offered a hand, and Blair took it in a firm handshake.

“Thank you. It isn't the outcome I hoped for, but my receiving the formula was never a condition of the case. You may not have returned Anita's property, but you saved her. I've never seen her looking so free.”

“A few hundred thou will do that for some people,” Hannibal said.

“No, knowing that her personal demon has been slain has done that for her,” Blair said. “Getting the riches she could have expected for the mystery formula, well, that's a bonus.”

“You really do care about her.” At Hannibal's statement Blair shrugged and for the first time a little embarrassment showed on his boyish face.

When Hannibal left the kitchen he found Sarge and Marquita in the foyer locked in an embrace. After one false start he decided to just head for the door. Sarge broke from the kiss just as Hannibal was about to pass them.

“Hey buddy, I got to thank you for introducing me to this fine lady,”

“Well, you're welcome,” Hannibal said, reaching for the doorknob.

“Anita's good fortune gave us a great idea,” Marquita said. “But I think that Archie said we could never have a ceremony unless you agreed to be the best man.”

Hannibal's jaw dropped. It was an epidemic. “Well, of course I'd be honored.” Sarge grabbed his hand and almost crushed it in a powerful shake, then returned to Marquita for yet another kiss. Hannibal looked around, feeling a bit awkward.

“Cindy?”

“Outside,” Sarge said.

Hannibal turned back to the door and pulled it open. As he stepped out he heard Sarge behind him say, “Only one shoe left to drop.”

Cindy stood at the bottom of the steps, staring at his new car. Her hair was shaped that day so that it curled down to her shoulders like ram's horns. The skirt of her fawn suit almost reached her knees, and her matching pumps were just high enough to accent her shapely legs. He felt the hollow of his stomach begin to cave in. He reached into his pocket and gripped the ring for strength.

“Alone at last,” he said, reaching her side. Cindy smiled at him, and then turned back to the Volvo. To his surprise he saw a look of confusion and maybe disappointment on Cindy's face.

“What?”

“Nothing, lover.”

“No,” he said, still smiling. “It's something. What?”

“The car,” Cindy said. “We talked about you getting something different. I thought maybe you were ready for a change. You could have gotten anything, but here you are in another four door Volvo. Same same same.”

Startled, Hannibal pointed to the car with both hands, as if trying to get her to see what was so obvious to him. “Cindy. It's BLACK.”

“Whatever,” she replied. Then her smile returned full force. God, he loved her when she smiled like that. He tried to dive into the empty moment, but they both spoke at once.

“I've got something I've got to…” It was a romantic comedy moment they both recognized, and they collapsed into laughter.

“What?” Cindy asked, gasping for breath.

“No no, you first.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Hannibal said.

Cindy balled her hands into fists and she suddenly seemed to be vibrating in anticipation. It all spilled out at once, in a voice of pure joy.

“Oh, God Hannibal, I didn't want to steal your thunder in there, but I have had the most amazing forty-eight hours. The IPO offering has gone through the roof! So much better than anyone could have ever expected! We actually exceeded the twenty-five million we needed to raise by a solid margin. I am now the star of the firm.”

“That's wonderful baby,” Hannibal said, wondering in silence how his proposal would compare to this success.

“And that's not all!” Cindy grabbed both of Hannibal's hands, shaking him and actually bouncing up and down like a kid at Christmas time. Her eyes flew wide and her hair bounced on her shoulders. “My stock options just went crazy! Hannibal, as of today at noon I was actually worth something like seven million dollars! Oh my God it's like a drug. I swear, money is like a drug and I am as high as they get. Do you get it? I can have anything I want, baby. Whatever I think of, I can get it with a snap of my fingers.”

Hannibal kept the smile frozen on his face, but thanked the Lord for the dark glasses shielding his eyes. She was right. She could get anything she could think of, all by herself. That being true, what could she possibly need him for?

Cindy must have noticed his reserve, because her breathing slowed a bit, her smile backing down just a notch.

“I'm sorry. That was kind of selfish, or at least self-oriented, wasn't it?”

“But well deserved,” Hannibal said. “I'm so proud of you, baby. You really are the best. So far above…” he left that sentence unfinished.

“So, what was your news? What did you want to tell me?”

Hannibal looked into Cindy's eyes, but he thought about Anita and how her butler boyfriend did not react to a briefcase full of money. Of course, it contained just a sliver of Cindy's new fortune, and they had started almost even. Anita needed Henry to help her understand how her life would change now. She needed his guidance, his knowledge of how to handle her windfall. They would chart their new course together.

He thought of Sarge, now forming a relationship with a woman of independent means. But Marquita had a long way to go to find her former self. She needed him emotionally and, well, didn't everyone need to be needed?

He tried to imagine life with a wealthy, star attorney. He tried to picture himself taking her to a restaurant, or to a show, or driving her to an important social event. He tried to visualize their lives, in the evening, in her new home that she would pick out and have professionally decorated. The heiress and the detective. Nick and Nora Charles, he supposed, but it looked different from the inside.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket. Empty.

“Nothing, baby. It was nothing.”

Austin S. Camacho is a public affairs specialist for the Department of Defense. America's military people overseas know him because for more than a decade his radio and television news reports were transmitted to them daily on the American Forces Network.

He was born in New York City but grew up in Saratoga Springs, New York. He majored in psychology at Union College in Schenectady, New York. Dwindling finances and escalating costs brought his college days to an end after three years. He enlisted in the Army as a weapons repairman but soon moved into a more appropriate field. The Army trained him to be a broadcast journalist. Disc jockey time alternated with news writing, video camera and editing work, public affairs assignments and news anchor duties.

During his years as a soldier, Austin lived in Missouri, California, Maryland, Georgia and Belgium. While enlisted he finished his Bachelor's Degree at night and started his Master's, and rose to the rank of Sergeant First Class. In his spare time, he began writing adventure and mystery novels set in some of the exotic places he'd visited.