Gold Coast Blues (22 page)

“You got a girlfriend now?”

He didn’t want to talk about the girl. He didn’t want to talk about anything. Even at our first meeting, he spoke only if someone twisted his arm.

“Last time we talked, you said you had nothing to do with stolen wine.”

Eddie stopped chewing. “That’s right. I don’t know nothin’ about that—or sellin’ drugs.”

“A kid named Spike set me up to get robbed of that wine-ransom money. You know him?”

Eddie looked at me then put the sandwich down and wiped his mouth. Then he took a long, slow sip of beer before wiping his mouth again. At that moment, I hated his guts. He said, “Why would I?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, c’mon, Mr. Landau. What was that for?”

“Cooper is Spike’s mentor. And his biological father.”

“I’m sorry. Okay, I’ve heard of him. What’s the big deal?”

“You came here to find Tanya. What else did Cooper want you to do?”

“Nothin’.”

“Cooper didn’t expect you to get in touch with Spike? You weren’t supposed to see how the fake wine business was coming along?”

“No.”

I stared at Eddie, watched him carefully rearrange his hands around the sandwich. “Actually,” I said, “it’s possible you’re telling the truth. Spike said he didn’t even know you were in town. But that’s what I don’t get. Why would you
not
be in touch with Spike?”

Eddie’s brows projected low over his eyes. He took an angry bite. His chewing accelerated like a piston, then stopped. After gulping down the mouthful of pork, he said, “What did Spike tell you?”

“Relax. He doesn’t know where she is.”

“How do you know he ain’t lyin’?”

“Doesn’t matter. Cooper must’ve told you Tanya worked with Spike at that bar.”

“By the time I got here, it wasn’t that bar no more.”

I thought I was hearing things. “Cooper didn’t know the bar went out of business?”

“I guess not.”

“Spike wouldn’t have told him? What bullshit. You sound like a fucking idiot. What’s Cooper hanging over your head, Eddie?”

“Mr. Landau, you don’t know anything. I mean, you don’t get what’s goin’ on—”

“Really? Where have I been the last few days?”

“How would I know?”

“Irvington. I had a nice long meeting with Cooper. He’s a good storyteller. A natural liar. A seasoned criminal. Since you’re not curious where I got these bruises, I’ll tell you. It’s from getting the shit beat out of me by Cooper’s pals. Isn’t it kind of weird he didn’t tell you I was snooping around your backyard? He knew you came here to find Tanya, but he didn’t tell you she worked with Spike? You think Cooper really cares if you find her or not?”

Suddenly subdued, he said, “He wants me to find her.”

“Why?”

Eddie pushed aside his plate of uneaten food then covered his eyes with his hands. His lips pursed as if struggling with horrible pain. Suddenly, I saw a pathetic little boy, unsure what to do.

“Eddie, you love this girl, don’t you?”

His chin quivered. He bit down on his lower lip. I told him again that he loved Tanya. He began nodding slowly, then with more emphasis while keeping his eyes covered. He stayed this way for a full minute before lifting his head and wiping his eyes.

“Before I got out of jail,” Eddie said, “Cooper came to visit. You’re right. He was sendin’ me to Chicago to get with Spike. He wanted me and Spike to put this wine scam together. Create a business. He told me Tanya went there too, to work with Spike at the bar.”

“Why didn’t Tanya tell you she was leaving?”

“She knew I’d freak out that she started workin’ for a scumbag like Cooper.”

“So you get out of jail and go see Cooper about making the move.”

“He gave me a bunch of money. Then he told me the bar closed and Tanya had disappeared. But he still wanted me to meet with Spike and do the wine scam business.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Once I got here, I told Cooper I can’t do nothin’ until I find Tanya. It’s true. I can’t concentrate on nothin’ else. Sometimes, I think I’m goin’ crazy.”

“He knew how close you two were. He had to have known you were going to look for her, right?”

Eddie didn’t respond, just stared into the abyss of the condemned.

“I’m going to guess Cooper gave you a bunch of cash before you left.” Eddie nodded. “Holy shit, Eddie. You’re
paying
me with Cooper’s money! You think he’s just gonna let you hang out in the Windy City with a load of his money?”

“I just gotta find Tanya.”

I tried to get my head around Eddie’s self-absorbed mindlessness. He knew guys like Cooper didn’t become rich and powerful by tolerating such blatant insubordination.

“Maybe Cooper did something that prompted Tanya to leave town,” I said. “Did you ever think of that?” He looked at me then away. Despite already knowing the answer, I asked, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me all this from the start?”

“I ain’t doin’ you no favors tellin’ you stuff you shouldn’t know.”

I shouldn’t know?
There was more he wasn’t telling me—for my own good. What a sad sack. When I stood to leave, he said, “You’re not gonna ditch me ’cause it’s Cooper’s money, are you, Mr. Landau?”

“No, Eddie, I’m not gonna ditch you. To be perfectly honest, I kinda like the idea of Cooper’s hard-earned swag providing my staff of life.” And it was true.

Chapter 34

I lay on the couch, right arm draped over my eyes, Punim curled on my stomach. At times, ideas surfaced when I stopped trying so hard, just hung out in the alpha waves or something. How would Amy describe my disposition?
Rummaging through themes of the investigation’s consciousness,
perhaps. Look at the periphery. Who were these people? Spike the gangster, the businessman. Doug the pub owner, wine connoisseur. What did others see? Doug the clown, the loser. Doug the magician.

I sat up quickly. Punim’s claws dug in as she leapt off, scratching thin lines of blood on my torso. I reached for the phone, shouting cat-directed obscenities.

“Johnny Bail Bonds.”

“Jules for Johnny.”

“Hold, please.” Irish tin whistle music, then, “Hey! You okay?”

“Cops nowadays got all kinds of databases. And I bet Sheila knows how to use them.”

Laughter. “She just might.”

“New Mexico vital records. Someone named Doug Daley killed in a car wreck. Find out whatever you can.”

—

The darkened bay windows and flaking paint gave a Victorian spookiness to Margot’s apartment. As I stood staring from the end of the block, it occurred to me I had never seen Margot outside her home.

The post-dinner crowd occupied every table at Pâtisserie Grenouille
.
Margot sat alone, reading a hardcover book. Without lifting her head, she used a fork to cut off a bite of pastry and bring it slowly to her mouth. Brenda fluttered among her patrons, never losing her smile. I wondered if Margot had apologized to Brenda or if they both feigned ignorance of a strained friendship.

I meandered around the area, staying within eyesight of the pâtisserie’s window. Across the street at the Auvergnat Vin Bar, dapper North Siders learned how unoaked vessels differed from stainless steel as they swirled and sniffed Bordeaux reds and Alsace whites. Would they know the real thing from a fake? I leaned against a haloed streetlight. Despite the banality, the Hollywood imprinting of my youth provoked a trench-coated image with fedora and cigarette. I then saw a ten-year-old staying up late to watch an old movie with his father. On the television, usually an urban black-and-white world of detectives, spies, or gangsters in the thirties and forties, both decades well within Dad’s living memory. The din from Pâtisserie Grenouille broke the spell as Margot walked out.

I kept a full block between us then ducked around the corner when she reached the door to her apartment. A minute later, I reemerged to see Margot staring at me down the sidewalk. “You gonna stand there all night or do you want to come in?”

Professional investigator or amateur sleuth—a perception easily blurred. When I approached, Margot said, “Next time stand in the shadows and not under a streetlight.”

“You’re assuming I didn’t want to be seen.”

She walked past me to the stairs rolling her eyes. Once inside, Margot flicked a switch that illuminated several lamps, transforming the apartment into her mustard-yellow refuge. Then she assumed her customary position on the chaise longue and stared out the bay window. I remained standing.

“Two visits in ten hours. I should be flattered.”

“I’d like to see the newspaper article—about Doug’s car crash.”

“You know where it is.”

I walked to the writing desk, opened the small drawer, noticed the .38 revolver, then reread the article. Margot watched my reflection in the window. I put the article back in the drawer then sat on the love seat.

Margot said, “Christ! So say something already.”

“The article isn’t dated.”

“It was in February.”

“Just a couple of months after he disappeared with Tanya.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a death certificate or a coroner’s report?”

Margot sat up for a moment, glanced at me, then fell back. “Did you see the car? I don’t think an autopsy was necessary.”

“I’m just curious about the date on the death certificate.”

“What’s with you and dates? Why don’t you just say whatever the hell it is you’re implying?”

I stared at Margot’s profile. “Was it last fall that Doug found out about you and Jeremy?”

“I guess. I don’t know for sure.”

“Later in the year—around Thanksgiving—Doug hits the road with Tanya.”

Margot closed her eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

“But he stayed in touch with Spike. Together, they decide to rip off your wine.”

“It was Doug’s idea, I’m sure. He talked Spike into it.”

“This morning I wagered a case of Lafite the security cameras showed Doug or Spike liberating your ten cases of Mouton from a high-tech storage facility like the Vintner’s Treasure. Over two million dollars, walking out the door. Did you ever bother to look at the surveillance tape?”

“I don’t—I don’t care anymore.”

“You think you can just
not care anymore
and suddenly everyone leaves you alone? You’re now free to lie on your chaise staring out the window, watching the seconds of your life tick away? Is that it?”

Margot swung her legs off the chaise and sat facing me. “And why the hell do you care so much?”

“Admit it. Doug never went to New Mexico with Tanya, they were here the whole time.”

“How much to get you to leave me alone? Tell me how much, damn it!”

“Not gonna happen, Margot. Now that you’ve been cornered by the truth, you want to buy your way back to fantasyland.”

Her neck flushed first before spreading to her face and ears. She stood, walked to the kitchen, and began opening and closing cabinets until she found a long-stemmed glass. From another cabinet she took a bottle, filled the glass with red wine, then sat at a small round table in the kitchen. She sipped, looking deep in thought, as if I had taken money and left as she suggested, problem solved.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t give a shit about your wine. It’s finding Tanya I care about.”

Margot laughed. “You’ve spent all this time making things so complicated when I told you from day one Tanya is dead.”

“But from day one you’ve been lying to me. And you’ve refused to say how you know she’s dead.”

Margot took a large gulp. “I don’t even like the expensive stuff,” she said. “Just give me a nice pinot noir, and I’m happy.” She refilled the glass. “You really want to know why I’m so sure Tanya is dead?” I didn’t respond. Margot took another healthy gulp. “Because I killed her.”

Chapter 35

I waited for the punch line but Margot offered only a catatonic gaze at an empty wineglass. The implication of her confession permeated all previous thoughts, prompting a hard reboot.

Finally, I said, “Uh, you mind expanding on this theme?”

Margot glanced at me, looking bored. “A few weeks after Doug ran off with Tanya—about mid-December—they came over, ostensibly to try to keep things amicable. Of course, that was a lie. He wanted to talk about the wine. He claimed I purposely kept the wine’s value a secret. He reminded me that legally, we were still married. He started threatening lawsuits and claimed he could prove I was having an affair before I got the wine and god knows what else.”

I waited. “Then what?”

“We argued. I killed her with that gun you undoubtedly saw in the drawer.”

“And why would you leave the murder weapon in the drawer instead of throwing it in Lake Michigan?”

“Because I don’t know how long I can live with knowing I took someone’s life. In the meantime, if someone wants to investigate, here I am. Anyway, you have your answer. Tell your client to stop wasting his time looking for Tanya.”

“Do you really think I’m gonna walk out of here without knowing the circumstances of you
killing
her?”

“What difference does it make? She’s dead. Call the cops if you want.”

“Where’s the body?”

“I don’t know.”

“I should call the cops and tell them there’s no body and nobody has reported her missing. You’re a real nut job. I don’t believe a word you said.”

“They wouldn’t leave it! They kept pushing me! That little bitch kept saying how they were going to take everything in court if I didn’t give them half of the wine. Who the hell was she? That little street tramp coming to my house, thinking she’s so smart and clever, like she had something on me.”

“So you let Tanya push enough buttons to provoke you to shoot her?”

My comment pushed a button of its own. Margot shouted, “What do you know? You’re so smug with your detective pomp! So cool, so full of yourself. They pushed me! I was scared. Doug trained her, told her all the things to say—very
personal
things! Tanya pranced around acting like she owned the place, like she owned me. And you know what was weird? I saw right through her. I knew it was all an act, that she was really a sweet girl Doug had convinced to go along with his scam. It was Doug talking through her. When I pulled the trigger, I was shooting Doug.”