The Blackmail Club (12 page)

Max nodded. “Yellow isn’t your best color, boss, particularly when you wear it with all those shades of bruise.”

“Thanks, Max. I’ll try to keep in mind next time someone wants to redo my skin tones.”

Max turned serious and reported that nothing out of the ordinary had happened at Donny’s last night until some hunched-over man limped in around one. “The old scruffer limped out about an hour later. I didn’t even bother taking his picture.” Max turned his face away from Nora and winked. “An hour after scruffer left, Donny came out beside one of his bouncers. The big one was limping and kept rubbing his head like he’d taken a bad fall. The two of them were shouting, then the big guy squeezed into the Porsche and Donny drove him home. I followed.”

Jack turned his head away from Nora and winked back at the crafty Irish-Scottish breed. Then he asked, “Had Donny left his club earlier?”

“At first we didn’t think so, but he must have. When I came on duty the man I relieved told me that earlier some big musclebound guy with a flat nose came out, got the van, and pulled it up tight to the club’s side door. The open door blocked my man’s view, but he could tell three more people got in. At the time he figured they were driving home a couple of drunks. They’ve done that a time or two before. It looked routine. My man took two zoomers. I looked at ‘em, but nothing much showed because of that damn door.”

Max shook his head. “That same van came back around ten-thirty, and Donny, his limping bodyguard, and a big nasty looking biker got out. They all went back into the club. The driver, another steroid experiment gone amuck, joined them inside after he parked the van. That’s when I reasoned it was that group, not drunks, who left earlier. No two ways about it, we missed that, boss. Sorry.”

“It couldn’t be helped. Let me change the subject. Didn’t you tell me you once worked as a guard at the building where Chris Andujar had his office?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know which janitor service the building used?”

“Clark’s Janitorial. I walked past their van every time I made my rounds.”

So the dead Benny Haviland had access to both Chris’s office and his son’s club.

“Max, stop by that building tonight and find somebody who works for Clark’s. See if you can find out what other buildings they clean.”

“You got it.”

The door opened and the nurse walked in to chase off Nora and Max.

What Jack had heard about hospitals was true. You couldn’t get any rest. If they weren’t poking you, feeding you, running tests, or doing therapy, the doctor was coming in on rounds. To prove the thesis, the doctor walked in just as the nurse walked out. After doing enough to justify billing the insurance company, the doctor said, “You can go home at six if you promise to take it easy the next couple of days.”

The doc left; Max and Nora came back in. Then Sarah Andujar walked in. She had her coat buttoned all the way up, a black scarf wrapped around her neck trailing back over her shoulder. She took Jack’s hand. “I could not bear it if my asking you to look into what happened to my Christopher was the cause of your being beaten.”

“It was a random mugging, Sarah, that’s all, just some thugs out for kicks. Lucky me, eh, but I’m fine, really. They’re turning me loose at the end of the day, so I’m on the mend.”

Sarah shook her head slowly. “I can’t imagine anyone doing such a horrid thing.”

After a while, Nora stepped closer. “Max and I need to get going. I’ll be back at six to drive you home.”

Jack watched the automated door close over the space where he had last seen Nora.

Sarah stepped closer. “I need to leave too, and you need your rest.” She held her scarf in place and leaned in. “I worry about you, you big lug. I love you like you were my own son.” She kissed his forehead and left.

When Jack left the room at six he planned to check outside the door for a sign reading, THIS PATIENT NEEDS FOREHEAD KISSES. He eased himself into a semi-sitting position. It felt good as long as he didn’t let the back of his head touch the headboard.

The beating had given him more reason to suspect Donny, but in the end he doubted the punk had the moxie for blackmail and murder.

He dialed Nora’s cell phone on his and headed for the bathroom. “Where are you?” he asked when she came on the line.

“I stopped at my place. They just delivered a new bed. I got it on trial.”

“Give me some personal comments on Tyson, Molloy, Mandrake, and Eric Dunn.”

“Tyson’s divorced. In my mind, he’s worse than some of the guys he arrested. Mayor Molloy and his wife are strong Catholics. Rumor is neither will break the church’s dogma on marriage for life. The chief’s a widower. His wife died of cancer, oh, six, seven years ago. Other than to say hello, I don’t know Eric Dunn. Why?”

“I’ll explain later.” Jack dragged his palm across his cheek. He’d need to find a way to shave before Nora arrived at six.

“In an hour,” Nora said, “I’m meeting again with Agnes Fuller. She says she’s been thinking back on the last few weeks and she thinks she may be able to match a few more names with Chris’s patient codes. Bye for now.”

“Wait! I haven’t had a chance to give you the lowdown on what happened last night.”

“You know who worked you over?”

“It was three goons from Donny’s club—probably bouncers. Donny was there too.”

“That little punk ass! Why didn’t you tell Sergeant Suggs?”

“I don’t want Sergeant Anal back in the middle of the Andujar case. He called it suicide and closed his file. Now it’s ours.”

Chapter 18

A man wearing olive green pants; a baseball style cap, and a light tan jacket emblazoned with the water company’s logo opened Jack’s water meter near the curb. He looked down at the gauge, appeared to make a note of the reading, slid the lid over until it clunked back into place, and continued down the sidewalk until he was beside Jack’s brown Concorde parked in his driveway. He walked slowly around the car, looking as one might at a car that had a for-sale sign in its window, then ducked between the car and the hedge next to the driveway. From the crouching position he removed a wrapped package from inside his jacket and shimmied his way under Jack’s car.

An hour after Sarah left Jack’s hospital room, Mary Lou Sanchez came in with the energy of a hummingbird. “Nora okayed my coming to see you. She’s watching the office.” Her smile drooped into concern. “How are you doing, Jack?”

“I’m fine, Mary Lou. A hundred years from now I’ll never know this happened.”

Her laugh raised his spirits. Then she kissed him on the forehead.

There has to be a sign out there
.

“Lean forward,” she said. “I’ll fluff your pillows.”

Pillow puffing wasn’t in her job description, but what the hell. Jack leaned and Mary Lou fluffed.

“I’d like to hear more about your father.”

She pulled a chair close so Jack could see her without having to move his head.

“My dad, Tino Sanchez, was a cop all his life; he loved it.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle when she spoke his name. “He and my godfather, I call Chief Mandrake, Uncle Harry, but for real, he’s my godfather. He and my dad were more like brothers than friends. Daddy told me once that Mom had some serious hots for Uncle Harry when she first met the two of them. Uncle Harry was already married, so the four of them became close friends. My mom and dad up and got married six months before I was born.” She raised her eyebrows. “We all know how that goes. My mother died giving birth to me. Uncle Harry lost his wife a few years back, and then I lost Daddy. Uncle Harry has been like a second father.”

She slipped off a locket that hung around her neck and opened it.

“This is my daddy and my mama.” On each of their pictures she had a small tuft of hair. “Daddy gave me the locket with Momma’s hair when I was a little girl. I swiped Daddy’s hairs out of his brush after he was murdered.”

“You look like your mother.”

She opened her eyes wide and took in a big breath, the way one does to hold back the impulse to cry. “Uncle Harry says that too.” Her tone turned wistful. “I loved them both very much. You know, all my friends take their parents for granted. They don’t know how lucky they are to have them.” She closed the locket, paused to hold it tight and then slipped it back over her head to again cradle against her chest.

“If it hadn’t been for Uncle Harry, I don’t know what would have happened,” Mary Lou said. “He moved me right into his home, took me to his church, and helped me get a scholarship through the Police Officers Association. He’s been fab—oh, that means just great. After he retires next summer, he’s going to take me on vacation with him. He’s promised to tell me a lot more stories about my mom. I keep asking him now, but he insists that we’ll have more time then to really sit and talk. I can hardly wait.” She flushed. “Uh, when I interviewed for the position Nora said it would be okay if I took that time off next summer.”

“No problem. Which church do you go to?”

“Daddy and I always went to Uncle Harry’s church.” Her smile disappeared and she looked down. “Now, Uncle Harry and I go to Saint Thomas Apostle over on Woodley Road.”

Jack furrowed his brow. “How come you changed churches?”

“That’s a long story.”

“I didn’t mean to pry.”

She brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, that’s okay. I just hadn’t thought about it for a long time.” She put her hand down. “I had gone to Father Michaels, the priest at our old church, for counseling after Daddy died.” She rubbed her hands together as if they were cold. “Father Michaels … well … he fondled me.”

“Jeez, Mary Lou, I’m sorry.” Jack could think of nothing else to say out loud.
Bastard
.

“When I told Uncle Harry he got madder than I’ve ever seen him. He went high up in the church, but nothing ever happened.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The church transferred Father Michaels to a Boston parish.”

“Bad deal.”
Son of a bitch
.

“Yeah, it was a bad deal all right.” She clenched her hands in her lap and looked away. “There’s been so much of that kind of stuff in the papers. This will sound just horrid, but it’s reassuring to know I’m not the only person that kind of thing has happened to.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“Heck. You didn’t know, Jack. It’s no problem.” Her gaze moved to the wall above Jack’s head.

“So where are you and your Uncle Harry going on vacation next summer?”

She sat forward and again became animated. “Vanuatu. It’s an island in the South Pacific. He’s vacationed there every year since his wife died. He rents a beautiful home right on the ocean. I’ve seen pictures. The weather is super. He’s going to teach me to deep-sea fish. I’m going to teach him to play golf—although I’m not all that good. It’ll be a really cool vacation.”

“I bet it will. You bring back lots of pictures, and be sure you’re strapped down while your deep-sea fishing. We don’t want some big marlin pulling you out of the boat.”

She grinned. “Uncle Harry says those fish are really big, but don’t worry. I’m tough.” She pushed up the sleeve on her jersey and flexed her bicep.

After sitting quietly for a moment, she asked Jack about being a federal agent. He told her what he knew about the career opportunities in the CIA and military intelligence, and the lifestyle that came with it. Then he reached for her hand.

“Do you really want a career in law enforcement? You aren’t just doing it out of respect for your dad or loyalty to your Uncle Harry?”

“Oh, no.” She made a dismissive gesture. “I’ve wanted it since before Daddy died. It’s a career that can make a difference.” She stiffened her shoulders. “Someone has to protect and serve.” She sighed. “That sounded corny, didn’t it?”

“A little, maybe,” Jack answered, “but it’s true. There are a lot of good people … and some bad ones. You must learn to discern between the two. There will be times when people’s lives, even your own, may depend on your ability to do just that.”

She stood up. “Along with Uncle Harry, will you help me learn how to tell the difference?”

“Sure.” Jack nodded. “You know, with what you’ve gone through you’re an amazing young lady.”

She blushed. “I’d better get back or Nora will kill me.” She kissed his forehead again and left.

Is this an age thing? Do women start kissing foreheads when a man gets to a certain age?

Jack smiled wistfully. All of us hope to make a real difference in someone’s life. Chief Mandrake had been there when Mary Lou needed him. It looked like the relationship had been good for both of them.

Chapter 19

The blackmailer casually walked along the side street that fronted Nora’s small rental house. When no one was in sight he ducked through the trees and swapped the CD from the recorder for a new one. He checked to be sure the coast was clear and walked back to the old car he had left parked around the corner.

The wind was blustery and, being across from a park, strangers in the neighborhood were commonplace. And most people were so self-absorbed that they rarely focused on much outside themselves and their own activities.

Twenty-five minutes later he pulled into a rental storage garage and turned off the pinging engine. From there he walked two blocks and got into the car he owned in his own name. When there were no cars or pedestrians coming, he placed his hat on the seat beside him and pulled off the mustache he had attached with spirit gum.

After driving home, he pulled into his garage and touched the remote closer. After opening the driver’s door to turn on the car’s dome light, he plugged a CD player into his cigarette lighter and leaned back to listen to Nora Burke’s private conversations. At first, all he heard was her singing along with some music. She had a pleasant voice. Then she got a call from Jack McCall. He listened to them reason out that Chris had been blackmailed and likely had been murdered, although they conceded he might have killed himself as a result of being blackmailed.

McCall also told her it had been Donny Andujar who had beaten him and threatened him to stay off the Andujar case. The blackmailer slammed the flat of his hand hard against the steering wheel, “You stupid punk.” No one could hear him inside his car, inside his garage. “McCall is the only thing standing in my way.”