“Who is this?”
Because of her lousy telephone etiquette, I decided to play with her a little bit. “Who’d you want to talk to?”
“Brandon at the Overlook Country Club told me I could talk to somebody at this number about a job I need to have done.”
“What kind of work do you need? Landscaping?”
“No. Do you know Brandon?”
“Do you need to have a house painted?”
“I must have the wrong number. So, you don’t know Brandon?”
“What do you need to have done?”
“I can’t discuss it over the phone.”
“In that case, why don’t we meet? How about three this afternoon?”
“Are you sure? You do know Brandon, then?”
“Meet me at Markham’s.”
“Where is that? Are you sure I have the right number?”
I gave her the address for the waterfront bar, which catered to barge hands and warehousemen. It would be quiet in the middle of the afternoon. She wanted to ask more questions, but I hung up.
When she showed up at exactly 3:00 I was one of three customers in the place. I was dressed like the others, in grungy trousers, T-shirt and baseball cap. I always wear a few days of beard, to make me look older, and it fit in with this place. The others were drunks at the bar, so she didn’t have any trouble figuring out I was the guy she was supposed to meet. She approached my booth slowly, in her designer jeans, silk blouse, and matching gold earrings, necklace, and bracelet. Up close and in person you could see the wrinkles that weren’t obvious on TV or in newspaper photos. Still, she was attractive for a woman in her fifties, with a nice tan, trim figure, and her hair colored with highlights.
I said, “Have a seat, and take off the scarf and sunglasses.”
“I don’t want to be recognized.”
“Nobody’s going to recognize you here, but the scarf and sunglasses make you kind of stand out indoors.”
“Do you know me?”
“No.”
She pulled off the sunglasses as she sat down, then the scarf. She shook her head slightly, freeing up her hair after it being in the scarf. I would have recognized her, even if I hadn’t gotten the word from Brandon, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking of herself as a celebrity.
I ordered a glass of white wine for her and a beer for me.
“You sounded older on the phone.” She didn’t say this like a neutral observation, but as a matter of concern.
“I’m older than I look, and I started very young. I’m a professional, and I’m good at what I do.”
“Well, you certainly sound confident enough. All right, you’ve sold me.” She sounded amused, like an adult secretly laughing at a kid trying to talk like an adult.
“What kind of work is it you need to have done?”
“You really don’t know who I am?”
“No. Do I need to know?” I enjoyed her look of disappointment.
“I’m Janet Cleary. I’m the city councilwoman from the third ward.”
“OK. What kind of work is it?”
“There’s a man who’s bothering me.”
“Oh. In that case you just need the cops, or a private security firm.” I slid along the seat like I was getting up to leave.
“It’s not like that. The man is my husband.”
“Then get a lawyer, for a divorce and a protective order if you need one.”
“Wait. When I say bothering me, I don’t mean he’s being physically abusive. He’s taken up with another woman, and he’s gone out of his way to embarrass me, and hurt me. He’s going to file for divorce. I don’t want a divorce, but if he’s going to hurt me like this I want something done.”
“Like what?”
“I want him done away with.”
“Done away with meaning--?”
“I want him killed.”
“OK. What’s his name?
“Daniel Cleary.”
“OK. The price for that is $10,000, with $5,000 up front and the balance due immediately after the job is done.”
“Don’t you need to know more about it?”
“We’ll get to that. But the price is like I just said.”
“Well, all right. Where do we go from here?”
“We’ll meet again at a place I’ll tell you. You’ll give me $5,000 in cash, in hundreds, and as much information as you can about this guy: where he lives, where he works, what kind of car he drives and the tag number, what his schedule is, where he hangs out, what kind of personal security he has like body guards or a weapon, and a picture of him. Plus anything else you can think of that might help.”
“That’s agreeable. When do we meet again?”
“Tomorrow, 3:00 at Butch’s at 17th and Broad.”
“Oh. That’s out of the question. I have a meeting with the public safety subcommittee then. It would really be awkward if I missed it. Can I call you back with another time?”
“All right,” I said, scowling. Now I moved to get up for real, but she stopped me.
“You may think I’m crazy. I’m not. We’ve been married 38 years. We started with nothing, just a little help from our parents. My parents actually helped us a little more than his. He started his own business, but he couldn’t have done it without me. He wouldn’t have the power and influence he has now without me.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need to know any of that. Just bring the money and info the next time.”
“I just want you to understand that I’m a serious person.”
“OK.” Finally I got away.
The next morning I found she’d left me a voice mail the night before. She sounded like she’d been drinking.
“Hi. It’s me. Thursday’s a good day for me. Call me back with a time and location. I got the feeling you weren’t too happy with me this afternoon. Like I said, I’m a serious person. I want this done, and will live up to my part of the bargain….” She went on a while longer. She sounded unhappy, looking for somebody to talk to. The recorder shut off when she was in mid-sentence.
I called her back and told her to meet me Thursday at 3:00, at a different bar.
#
She was exactly on time again, more plainly dressed, in khaki trousers and a designer sweatshirt. All she was carrying was a little pocket book, which at most might have held some lipstick and makeup.
She smiled nervously as she sat down. “Could I have a club soda?”
I signaled the bartender. After he brought her drink she said, “I’ve been thinking.”
That tiny pocketbook bothered me; it wasn’t big enough for the stuff she was supposed to bring. I didn’t say anything, just looked her straight in the eyes. I thought she’d look away, but she coolly returned my gaze.
“You must take on some pretty tough customers in your line of work, don’t you?”
I didn’t say anything, but just kept looking at her.
“Well, don’t you?” She had some cojones, trying to negotiate with a professional killer.
“Get to the point. Do you have the money or don’t you?”
“My point is, you quoted me a price that I assume is the same you would get for taking out a gangster, who would be carrying a weapon and might have armed body guards. Well, Dan Cleary has no bodyguard, and doesn’t even own a gun. This will be the easiest job you’ve ever done, with minimal risk. It doesn’t seem fair for me to pay the same as you’d get for killing John Gotti or somebody like that. Does it?”
I was able to stifle a laugh, and put on my nasty face. “What do you mean minimal risk? What risk are you talking about?”
“Like I said, he’s defenseless. It’ll be like killing your grandpa.”
“Why don’t you do it, then?”
“Well, I’m not a professional at it for one thing.”
“What risk do you think I’ll be taking?”
“Practically none. I told you, he can’t defend himself.”
“Do you know the penalty for murder in this state?”
“I know it’s a capital offense, of course.”
“Do you think they’ll let me off if I kill somebody’s grandpa?”
“Of course not, but…”
“But nothing. My price is based on the risk of what happens to me if I get caught, and on the fact that I know how not to get caught. You can find half a dozen guys who would take this job for a lot less than me, but with a high probability of getting caught. Do you know what they’ll do when they’re caught?”
Now it was her turn to stare back at me while I waited for an answer.
“Do you?”
She hesitated. “They’d talk?”
“Damn straight. And I guarantee you, the state’s attorney would love to give a crack head a deal in exchange for nailing you or any other politician.”
“Well, there may be something in what you say….”
“I don’t care if you think there’s anything in it or not. I don’t negotiate my price. You’ve wasted my time. If I was a lawyer I’d be sending you a bill for the five thousand.”
I got up and walked out.
#
As I’d expected, she called me late that night. The next morning I listened to a total of four drunken voice mails, each with a little more drama than the one before it. From a fairly business-like first message, apologizing for that afternoon, and promising to have the money and information the next time, she went to a second message trying to explain the pressure she was under, and how her husband had betrayed her. The third and fourth calls went on like that, with some crying. Again, when the recorder shut off the last message she was still talking.
I called her back.
“Hello,” she said.
“It’s me.”
“Thank God! When can we get together?”
“Will you have everything?”
“Yes. The money and the information.”
I gave her the name and location of another bar downtown, and told her to meet me at 3:00.
She came in carrying a big straw tote bag. She sat down quietly and handed me a large manila envelope out of the bag. Looking inside I saw a neat stack of hundred dollar bills in a rubber band, an eight by ten photo, and a sheet of paper with typing on it. I didn’t bother to count the money. The photo was of a physically fit man in a well-tailored suit, with a receding hairline, graying at the temples. He was a well-known real estate developer and financier in town, but I wouldn’t have recognized him on the street. He wasn’t in the news as much as Janet, and he and I didn’t run in the same circles. The information sheet was very thorough; I couldn’t have asked for more.
“All right, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, I want you to kill him.”
“You want it to look like an accident?”
“No. I want it obvious that he was murdered.”
“Oh? OK.”
“Everybody will know I had it done, even if the police can’t prove it. I want them to know that I made sure Dan got what he had coming.”
“That’s cool. After the job is done I’ll call you with instructions for the final payment. You remember how much that is?”
“Of course. Five thousand.”
“Now one more thing. The phone number you have for me is a cell phone. I’m going to throw that phone away when I leave here today. You won’t be able to reach me again. So if there’s any doubt in your mind, you can call it off right now. You can keep your money. But this is the last chance to do that. Are you sure you want me to kill Dan Cleary?”
“Don’t patronize me. I know what I want. This is just like business or politics. You have to show you can’t be pushed around. I helped build that son of a bitch’s business. He owes me some loyalty. Where does he get off dumping me for some little whore young enough to be his granddaughter? Everybody agrees, that simply isn’t done. If he wanted to keep her on the side, I could have lived with that, but he went out of his way to humiliate me in public!”
“All right, all right. Not so loud. I just had to be sure. Once I leave here there’s no stopping this train. If that’s what you want, we’re good.”
“That’s what I want. Doesn’t that seem reasonable? I’m not so bad looking, am I? You could go for me, couldn’t you? I mean if you were older.”
“Yeah. You’re fine. We don’t need to get into this. The less we talk about it in public like this the better. If this is what you want, we have to focus on it.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
#
Three hours later I was walking with Manny up the sidewalk leading to Amber Marlowe’s townhouse. It was actually Dan Cleary’s, but Amber’s name was on the mailbox. When she finally answered the door I tried to calculate whether Janet was right about Amber being young enough to be Dan’s granddaughter. She was about 25, and I would have guessed him to be in his late fifties. So he was almost, but not quite, old enough to be her grandpa. She was barefooted, wearing baggy black shorts with a yellow tank top, and no bra. Her hair was in rollers. Like Janet, she was well tanned, and even had her hair highlighted in a way that reminded me of Janet. She didn’t have the wrinkles, though, and her body wasn’t sagging yet where Janet’s was. Even in the rollers, she was beautiful.
“Yes?” She gave us a bored, arrogant look. I wondered if she’d always been like that, or if she’d learned it from being with a high roller like Dan.
I introduced Manny and me, flashing some I.D., and asked to see Dan.
“He’s not here.”
“This is really important. Tell him it concerns his wife.”
Her face told me she didn’t like hearing that. She said, “Just a minute,” and slammed the door in our faces.
I started checking my watch. I told Manny when five minutes had passed. He said, “Maybe we should kick the door down.” We both laughed. The door finally opened.
Dan Cleary was dressed for tennis, or else for an ad in a magazine for rich, middle-aged men who play tennis with their young girlfriends. He gave us that same bored, “Yes?” that Amber had. I was going to enjoy letting the air out of his balloon.
#
That night Brittany and I were in bed watching the eleven o’clock news when the story came on. The deputy district attorney did the press conference. The news cameras hadn’t been able to catch Janet in the perp walk, but they did have some file footage of her. They also had a nice scene with Amber at the front door of her townhouse, slamming the door on the reporter, followed by a shot of Dan running from the townhouse to his car, covering his face.
Brittany said, “I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A member of city council, her husband a rich and powerful business man. It’s like a TV show.”
“No, I mean I can’t believe the cops would entrap her like that. The chief of police in this town is so corrupt it makes me puke.”
“Well, it wasn’t the local police who handled this, it was the state police. The city police thought it would be better for us to handle it, since it involved a member of the city council.”
“You’re kidding! Who was on the case?”
“Me and Manny.” I didn’t like the direction this was going.
She had been leaning against my shoulder, but now she sat up and turned toward me. “How could you set somebody up like that?”
“I didn’t set her up. She went to a bartender at their country club, a guy who likes to pretend he’s a tough guy. She asked him to put her in touch with a hit man. Turns out he isn’t really so tough. He suspected she was setting him up. He went to the city police, and they called us in. We set up a dedicated telephone line and got a court order to record her calls. Brandon the bartender gave her the number. Nobody forced her to call it. Whenever she called we recorded the conversation. I met with her, wearing a wire, pretending to be a thug. She kept saying she wanted him killed, and made a cash down payment to me. I gave her plenty of chances to back out.”
“Did you see that girlfriend of his? She’s young enough to be his daughter.”
“Yeah, almost young enough to be his granddaughter. He’s a real prize all right. You should have seen the expression on his face when I told him what his wife had been up to.”
“Good. He’s a scumbag.”
“I have to agree with you there.” I decided it was better not to mention that I thought the councilwoman was a scumbag, too.
END
Because of her lousy telephone etiquette, I decided to play with her a little bit. “Who’d you want to talk to?”
“Brandon at the Overlook Country Club told me I could talk to somebody at this number about a job I need to have done.”
“What kind of work do you need? Landscaping?”
“No. Do you know Brandon?”
“Do you need to have a house painted?”
“I must have the wrong number. So, you don’t know Brandon?”
“What do you need to have done?”
“I can’t discuss it over the phone.”
“In that case, why don’t we meet? How about three this afternoon?”
“Are you sure? You do know Brandon, then?”
“Meet me at Markham’s.”
“Where is that? Are you sure I have the right number?”
I gave her the address for the waterfront bar, which catered to barge hands and warehousemen. It would be quiet in the middle of the afternoon. She wanted to ask more questions, but I hung up.
When she showed up at exactly 3:00 I was one of three customers in the place. I was dressed like the others, in grungy trousers, T-shirt and baseball cap. I always wear a few days of beard, to make me look older, and it fit in with this place. The others were drunks at the bar, so she didn’t have any trouble figuring out I was the guy she was supposed to meet. She approached my booth slowly, in her designer jeans, silk blouse, and matching gold earrings, necklace, and bracelet. Up close and in person you could see the wrinkles that weren’t obvious on TV or in newspaper photos. Still, she was attractive for a woman in her fifties, with a nice tan, trim figure, and her hair colored with highlights.
I said, “Have a seat, and take off the scarf and sunglasses.”
“I don’t want to be recognized.”
“Nobody’s going to recognize you here, but the scarf and sunglasses make you kind of stand out indoors.”
“Do you know me?”
“No.”
She pulled off the sunglasses as she sat down, then the scarf. She shook her head slightly, freeing up her hair after it being in the scarf. I would have recognized her, even if I hadn’t gotten the word from Brandon, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking of herself as a celebrity.
I ordered a glass of white wine for her and a beer for me.
“You sounded older on the phone.” She didn’t say this like a neutral observation, but as a matter of concern.
“I’m older than I look, and I started very young. I’m a professional, and I’m good at what I do.”
“Well, you certainly sound confident enough. All right, you’ve sold me.” She sounded amused, like an adult secretly laughing at a kid trying to talk like an adult.
“What kind of work is it you need to have done?”
“You really don’t know who I am?”
“No. Do I need to know?” I enjoyed her look of disappointment.
“I’m Janet Cleary. I’m the city councilwoman from the third ward.”
“OK. What kind of work is it?”
“There’s a man who’s bothering me.”
“Oh. In that case you just need the cops, or a private security firm.” I slid along the seat like I was getting up to leave.
“It’s not like that. The man is my husband.”
“Then get a lawyer, for a divorce and a protective order if you need one.”
“Wait. When I say bothering me, I don’t mean he’s being physically abusive. He’s taken up with another woman, and he’s gone out of his way to embarrass me, and hurt me. He’s going to file for divorce. I don’t want a divorce, but if he’s going to hurt me like this I want something done.”
“Like what?”
“I want him done away with.”
“Done away with meaning--?”
“I want him killed.”
“OK. What’s his name?
“Daniel Cleary.”
“OK. The price for that is $10,000, with $5,000 up front and the balance due immediately after the job is done.”
“Don’t you need to know more about it?”
“We’ll get to that. But the price is like I just said.”
“Well, all right. Where do we go from here?”
“We’ll meet again at a place I’ll tell you. You’ll give me $5,000 in cash, in hundreds, and as much information as you can about this guy: where he lives, where he works, what kind of car he drives and the tag number, what his schedule is, where he hangs out, what kind of personal security he has like body guards or a weapon, and a picture of him. Plus anything else you can think of that might help.”
“That’s agreeable. When do we meet again?”
“Tomorrow, 3:00 at Butch’s at 17th and Broad.”
“Oh. That’s out of the question. I have a meeting with the public safety subcommittee then. It would really be awkward if I missed it. Can I call you back with another time?”
“All right,” I said, scowling. Now I moved to get up for real, but she stopped me.
“You may think I’m crazy. I’m not. We’ve been married 38 years. We started with nothing, just a little help from our parents. My parents actually helped us a little more than his. He started his own business, but he couldn’t have done it without me. He wouldn’t have the power and influence he has now without me.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need to know any of that. Just bring the money and info the next time.”
“I just want you to understand that I’m a serious person.”
“OK.” Finally I got away.
The next morning I found she’d left me a voice mail the night before. She sounded like she’d been drinking.
“Hi. It’s me. Thursday’s a good day for me. Call me back with a time and location. I got the feeling you weren’t too happy with me this afternoon. Like I said, I’m a serious person. I want this done, and will live up to my part of the bargain….” She went on a while longer. She sounded unhappy, looking for somebody to talk to. The recorder shut off when she was in mid-sentence.
I called her back and told her to meet me Thursday at 3:00, at a different bar.
#
She was exactly on time again, more plainly dressed, in khaki trousers and a designer sweatshirt. All she was carrying was a little pocket book, which at most might have held some lipstick and makeup.
She smiled nervously as she sat down. “Could I have a club soda?”
I signaled the bartender. After he brought her drink she said, “I’ve been thinking.”
That tiny pocketbook bothered me; it wasn’t big enough for the stuff she was supposed to bring. I didn’t say anything, just looked her straight in the eyes. I thought she’d look away, but she coolly returned my gaze.
“You must take on some pretty tough customers in your line of work, don’t you?”
I didn’t say anything, but just kept looking at her.
“Well, don’t you?” She had some cojones, trying to negotiate with a professional killer.
“Get to the point. Do you have the money or don’t you?”
“My point is, you quoted me a price that I assume is the same you would get for taking out a gangster, who would be carrying a weapon and might have armed body guards. Well, Dan Cleary has no bodyguard, and doesn’t even own a gun. This will be the easiest job you’ve ever done, with minimal risk. It doesn’t seem fair for me to pay the same as you’d get for killing John Gotti or somebody like that. Does it?”
I was able to stifle a laugh, and put on my nasty face. “What do you mean minimal risk? What risk are you talking about?”
“Like I said, he’s defenseless. It’ll be like killing your grandpa.”
“Why don’t you do it, then?”
“Well, I’m not a professional at it for one thing.”
“What risk do you think I’ll be taking?”
“Practically none. I told you, he can’t defend himself.”
“Do you know the penalty for murder in this state?”
“I know it’s a capital offense, of course.”
“Do you think they’ll let me off if I kill somebody’s grandpa?”
“Of course not, but…”
“But nothing. My price is based on the risk of what happens to me if I get caught, and on the fact that I know how not to get caught. You can find half a dozen guys who would take this job for a lot less than me, but with a high probability of getting caught. Do you know what they’ll do when they’re caught?”
Now it was her turn to stare back at me while I waited for an answer.
“Do you?”
She hesitated. “They’d talk?”
“Damn straight. And I guarantee you, the state’s attorney would love to give a crack head a deal in exchange for nailing you or any other politician.”
“Well, there may be something in what you say….”
“I don’t care if you think there’s anything in it or not. I don’t negotiate my price. You’ve wasted my time. If I was a lawyer I’d be sending you a bill for the five thousand.”
I got up and walked out.
#
As I’d expected, she called me late that night. The next morning I listened to a total of four drunken voice mails, each with a little more drama than the one before it. From a fairly business-like first message, apologizing for that afternoon, and promising to have the money and information the next time, she went to a second message trying to explain the pressure she was under, and how her husband had betrayed her. The third and fourth calls went on like that, with some crying. Again, when the recorder shut off the last message she was still talking.
I called her back.
“Hello,” she said.
“It’s me.”
“Thank God! When can we get together?”
“Will you have everything?”
“Yes. The money and the information.”
I gave her the name and location of another bar downtown, and told her to meet me at 3:00.
She came in carrying a big straw tote bag. She sat down quietly and handed me a large manila envelope out of the bag. Looking inside I saw a neat stack of hundred dollar bills in a rubber band, an eight by ten photo, and a sheet of paper with typing on it. I didn’t bother to count the money. The photo was of a physically fit man in a well-tailored suit, with a receding hairline, graying at the temples. He was a well-known real estate developer and financier in town, but I wouldn’t have recognized him on the street. He wasn’t in the news as much as Janet, and he and I didn’t run in the same circles. The information sheet was very thorough; I couldn’t have asked for more.
“All right, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, I want you to kill him.”
“You want it to look like an accident?”
“No. I want it obvious that he was murdered.”
“Oh? OK.”
“Everybody will know I had it done, even if the police can’t prove it. I want them to know that I made sure Dan got what he had coming.”
“That’s cool. After the job is done I’ll call you with instructions for the final payment. You remember how much that is?”
“Of course. Five thousand.”
“Now one more thing. The phone number you have for me is a cell phone. I’m going to throw that phone away when I leave here today. You won’t be able to reach me again. So if there’s any doubt in your mind, you can call it off right now. You can keep your money. But this is the last chance to do that. Are you sure you want me to kill Dan Cleary?”
“Don’t patronize me. I know what I want. This is just like business or politics. You have to show you can’t be pushed around. I helped build that son of a bitch’s business. He owes me some loyalty. Where does he get off dumping me for some little whore young enough to be his granddaughter? Everybody agrees, that simply isn’t done. If he wanted to keep her on the side, I could have lived with that, but he went out of his way to humiliate me in public!”
“All right, all right. Not so loud. I just had to be sure. Once I leave here there’s no stopping this train. If that’s what you want, we’re good.”
“That’s what I want. Doesn’t that seem reasonable? I’m not so bad looking, am I? You could go for me, couldn’t you? I mean if you were older.”
“Yeah. You’re fine. We don’t need to get into this. The less we talk about it in public like this the better. If this is what you want, we have to focus on it.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
#
Three hours later I was walking with Manny up the sidewalk leading to Amber Marlowe’s townhouse. It was actually Dan Cleary’s, but Amber’s name was on the mailbox. When she finally answered the door I tried to calculate whether Janet was right about Amber being young enough to be Dan’s granddaughter. She was about 25, and I would have guessed him to be in his late fifties. So he was almost, but not quite, old enough to be her grandpa. She was barefooted, wearing baggy black shorts with a yellow tank top, and no bra. Her hair was in rollers. Like Janet, she was well tanned, and even had her hair highlighted in a way that reminded me of Janet. She didn’t have the wrinkles, though, and her body wasn’t sagging yet where Janet’s was. Even in the rollers, she was beautiful.
“Yes?” She gave us a bored, arrogant look. I wondered if she’d always been like that, or if she’d learned it from being with a high roller like Dan.
I introduced Manny and me, flashing some I.D., and asked to see Dan.
“He’s not here.”
“This is really important. Tell him it concerns his wife.”
Her face told me she didn’t like hearing that. She said, “Just a minute,” and slammed the door in our faces.
I started checking my watch. I told Manny when five minutes had passed. He said, “Maybe we should kick the door down.” We both laughed. The door finally opened.
Dan Cleary was dressed for tennis, or else for an ad in a magazine for rich, middle-aged men who play tennis with their young girlfriends. He gave us that same bored, “Yes?” that Amber had. I was going to enjoy letting the air out of his balloon.
#
That night Brittany and I were in bed watching the eleven o’clock news when the story came on. The deputy district attorney did the press conference. The news cameras hadn’t been able to catch Janet in the perp walk, but they did have some file footage of her. They also had a nice scene with Amber at the front door of her townhouse, slamming the door on the reporter, followed by a shot of Dan running from the townhouse to his car, covering his face.
Brittany said, “I can’t believe it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A member of city council, her husband a rich and powerful business man. It’s like a TV show.”
“No, I mean I can’t believe the cops would entrap her like that. The chief of police in this town is so corrupt it makes me puke.”
“Well, it wasn’t the local police who handled this, it was the state police. The city police thought it would be better for us to handle it, since it involved a member of the city council.”
“You’re kidding! Who was on the case?”
“Me and Manny.” I didn’t like the direction this was going.
She had been leaning against my shoulder, but now she sat up and turned toward me. “How could you set somebody up like that?”
“I didn’t set her up. She went to a bartender at their country club, a guy who likes to pretend he’s a tough guy. She asked him to put her in touch with a hit man. Turns out he isn’t really so tough. He suspected she was setting him up. He went to the city police, and they called us in. We set up a dedicated telephone line and got a court order to record her calls. Brandon the bartender gave her the number. Nobody forced her to call it. Whenever she called we recorded the conversation. I met with her, wearing a wire, pretending to be a thug. She kept saying she wanted him killed, and made a cash down payment to me. I gave her plenty of chances to back out.”
“Did you see that girlfriend of his? She’s young enough to be his daughter.”
“Yeah, almost young enough to be his granddaughter. He’s a real prize all right. You should have seen the expression on his face when I told him what his wife had been up to.”
“Good. He’s a scumbag.”
“I have to agree with you there.” I decided it was better not to mention that I thought the councilwoman was a scumbag, too.
END
