Blackmail Page 3
I sighed. “All right. Yes, of course you want the negatives. I know. The whole thing stinks. It doesn’t make any sense. But what can I do? The woman kept me completely in the dark. I wasn’t supposed to know anything about what was going on. I still wouldn’t know, if this guy Barry hadn’t forced it on me.”
“Why would he do that?” Alice said. “I mean, here’s the woman treating you like a total outsider—tell him nothing—and here’s the guy treating you like one of the gang—hey, get a load of this.”
“That’s not so strange.”
“Why not?”
“He wouldn’t know what she told me. Or how I got involved. I don’t have to be a hired messenger boy. I could be her brother or husband or lover, for all he knows.”
“Or father.”
“Thanks a lot, Alice. Did I mention the woman’s age?”
“I think you said young.”
“That’s a fairly broad range. In her case, father would be quite a stretch.”
“Fine. Anyway, this guy seemed to think you were the cat’s meow who should be told everything.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Whereas the woman didn’t want you to know a thing.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Hmm,” Alice said. “I would think she’s gonna be a trifle pissed.”
6.
UNDERSTATEMENT.
Marlena looked as if she were auditioning for the role of the evil twin sister on a soap opera.
“You opened it,” she said.
I held up my hand. “No. I did not open it. Barry opened it.”
“You shouldn’t have let him.”
“Let? What do you mean, let? He had the envelope. He ripped it open. He didn’t tell me he was going to. He didn’t ask me if he should. He just did it.”
“You should have stopped him.”
“How? Shot him dead? You’ll pardon me, but you’re not being terribly rational.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, really? I’m not being terribly rational. I hired you to do a job. Paid you five hundred dollars. And you didn’t do it.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Oh yeah? Pick up an envelope and bring it here. Unopened. That was the job.”
“No.”
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“The instruction was not to open the envelope. I didn’t open the envelope. I received it opened. A circumstance beyond my control. I’m delivering it in the condition in which I received it.”
I was fairly pleased with that statement. I felt Richard Rosenberg might even appreciate it.
Marlena certainly didn’t. “What you’ve done is highly unethical. It violates the confidence of a client.”
“No such thing.”
“Oh, is that right? Are you telling me you didn’t look in that envelope?’
“That’s not the point.”
“Then you did?”
“I had no choice in the matter. Barry showed them to me.”
“Barry did?”
“Yeah. And he didn’t ask if I wanted to see them, he pulled them out and said, ‘Here, look at this.’”
“Sure,” Marlena said. “Blame it all on Barry. He’s not here to defend himself.”
“Defend himself?” I said. “What the hell are you talking about? He’s a blackmailer. I’m on your side.”
“You’d never know it.”
“All right,” I said. “Fine. I accept your evaluation. I’m totally to blame for everything Barry did.”
“I didn’t say that,” Marlena said.
“Oh yeah? Well, you could have fooled me. Anyway, I did the job for you the best I could. It wasn’t much, seeing as how you wouldn’t take me into your confidence and tell me anything.” I pointed to the envelope. “If you had, I might have been able to do something about this. Because, frankly, these pictures aren’t going to help you at all.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t get the negatives.”
“Negatives?”
“Yeah. You got your blackmail photos, but you don’t have your negatives. What’s to stop Barry from running off a fresh set of prints and doing this whole thing all over again?”
She frowned. Thought a moment. “That’s not your problem,” she said.
“You’re absolutely right. It’s not my problem. It’s your problem. I just bring it up because, when I do a job, I wanna give service. It’s difficult when I’m not being trusted to do it. Nonetheless, for what it’s worth, that’s my opinion. If I’d been taken in on the play, I would have insisted on getting the negatives as part of the deal.”
Marlena gave me such a look. “Gee,” she said with scathing sarcasm. “What a shame I didn’t have you masterminding this for me.”
“You should have had someone,” I said. “You might have saved yourself a bit of money.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That envelope isn’t the only thing Barry tore open. He also opened the one you gave me. I saw the packet of bills that fell out. It was a huge chunk of dough.”
“You had no right to see that.”
I looked at her. “You’ll pardon me, but you realize that sounds a little stupid?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean. I don’t know what your game is. I know that you paid entirely too much money for some very spurious-looking blackmail photos.”
She frowned. “Spurious?”
“You confused by the word or the concept? What I mean is, they don’t appear genuine. They’re posed pictures by willing participants who knew they were being photographed.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?’
“You tell me.”
“I’m not telling you anything. This is none of your business. You had no right to see those photos.”
“Yeah, but since I did I can’t help commenting on ’em. It’s free advice, and you don’t have to take it, but I feel obliged to point out what I’ve observed.”
“Thanks for your concern,” Marlena said sarcastically.
She was carrying a large, floppy drawstring purse slung over her shoulder. She flopped it down on my desk, pulled the top open, and stuck the manila envelope In. She pulled the purse shut, slung it over her shoulder, and turned to go.
She turned back in the doorway. “Just remember one thing,” she said. “I’m your client. You violate my confidence, I’ll sue you for damages and see you lose your license.”
Not the most cordial parting remark.
Still, by and large, I think I preferred it to “Have a nice day.”
7.
“THIS MAKES NO SENSE.”
Richard was absolutely right. The whole thing made no sense. Which was one of the reasons I’d stopped by the office to tell him about it. Richard must have been pretty interested in the whole blackmail bit, because he didn’t even bother to ask me where I should have been that morning. If he had, the answer was in Queens, signing up a man who fell down in the produce section of a Sloan’s, but the subject never came up. Richard just wanted to hear about the payoff.
Until he heard my story. As he listened, his face darkened. When I finished he looked at me a moment or two and said, “Are you putting me on?”
“What?”
“This is a joke, isn’t it? Something you dreamed up with the switchboard girls to have a laugh at my expense?”
“Richard.”
“Or that homicide cop—what’s his name? MacAullif—did you have some bet with him? See if you can tell me this incredible story and get me to bite?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Me? Silly? You tell me a story like that and then say, ‘Don’t be silly’?”
“Richard, I was in here yesterday asking for advice.”
“To set up the gag, right? Lay the foundation. So what’s the punch line? When you gonna let me in on the bit?”
“There’s no bit. I’m giving you the straight stuff. Everything I’m tel
ling you is exactly what happened.”
Richard smiled. Shrugged. “I know that. I’m just putting you on. Obviously everything you’ve told me is true.”
“Why obviously?”
“Because if you’d made it up, it would make a lot more sense. Anything this stupid has to be the truth.”
“That’s not encouraging.”
“No, it isn’t. The whole thing stinks from the word go.”
“It’s not that bad, Richard.”
“Oh, no? Tell me why it’s not that bad.”
“So the woman’s inept, she didn’t think of the negatives. Maybe it’s her first blackmail too.”
Richard waved his hand. “That’s the least of it.”
“You mean the fact the pictures were posed?”
“No, I don’t mean the pictures themselves. I mean what she did with them.”
I frowned. “You mean paying that kind of money for them?”
He grimaced. “No,” he said. “No, I’m talking about something she didn’t do.”
“Didn’t do?”
“If I understand your story right. It could be you just omitted it.”
“Omitted what?”
“All right. You say this Barry showed you the pictures?”
“Yeah, he did. Which is what made the whole trouble.”
“Fine. Never mind that. Now, this Marlena—she didn’t show you the pictures, did she?”
“No.” I looked at him. “Is that what she didn’t do?”
“You gave her the pictures in the envelope. She started cursing you out for the envelope being opened.”
“Right.”
“Then you tell me she jammed it in her purse and left?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Did she look at the pictures?”
I blinked.
“Well?”
“Son of a bitch.”
“She didn’t, did she?”
I shook my head.
“Pretty indifferent blackmail victim, wouldn’t you think?”
“I sure would. So what does it mean?”
He shrugged. “How should I know?”
“What?”
“I have no idea.”
“Oh, come on. You must. You figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“You knew she hadn’t looked at the pictures. You must have some idea why.”
“I assure you I don’t.”
“Then how did you know?”
“Know what?”
“She hadn’t looked at them.”
“From what you said. From your story.”
“How could you possibly have got it from that?”
He looked at me in surprise. “That’s what I do. What do you think cross-examination is? I listen to the witness’s story, look for holes, then pick ’em apart. The hole in your story was, the way you told it, this woman had never looked at the pictures.”
“Yeah, but ...”
“But what?”
“What if she had and I’d just left it out?”
Richard smiled. “I assure you I would have covered neatly and gone on to something else. You never would have known that was what I was actually getting at. Anyway, it’s a moot point, because I was right. She didn’t look at the pictures. Which has to be the most telling point yet.”
“What does it mean?”
“Well, that, coupled with the fact she’s not in the pictures, indicates she’s not a principal in the blackmail action. Which means she’s either an interested party or a paid functionary, not unlike you. The fact that she showed no interest in the blackmail photos, even to the extent of verifying that that’s what they indeed were, would tend to indicate that she was a paid functionary, merely following orders.”
“Like me.”
“Yes. Except, in her case, she would have to have some idea of what was going on.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Richard raised his eyebrows. “That particular observation was not intended to belittle your investigative techniques. I was referring to how much you were told.”
“Oh.”
Richard frowned and shook his head. “I don’t like this at all. Every aspect of this whole affair is entirely unsatisfactory.”
“Except for one thing. I got paid up front.”
Richard pointed his finger. “And there’s another thing. Why the hell would she do that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Me either. And it stinks. Not from your point of view—you’re happy to get the money. But in terms of making sense. Who the hell pays for something like this in advance? For something this speculative. There’s no guarantee you’re going to pull it off. It’s gotta be COD.”
“Yeah. So why did she do it?”
“I don’t know. It’s like not looking at the pictures. It’s another indication she wasn’t that concerned with the outcome.”
“Okay,” I said. “That may well be. But the fact is, I’m happy I got paid. Now, considering I did the job and got my money, am I in any trouble? Is there anything I gotta worry about? Legally, I mean.”
“Probably not,” Richard said. “If all the interested parties were to come forward and accuse you of compounding a felony and conspiring to conceal a crime—to wit, blackmail—well, that might be somewhat embarrassing. But, barring that, I would say you were in the clear.”
“So at this point, I really have nothing to worry about?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Why not? I thought you just said I was in the clear.”
“I think you are. It’s just that everything you told me indicates just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“It isn’t over yet.”
8.
MY BEEPER WENT OFF LATER that afternoon while I was out on a case. No, not the case in Queens. That’s a common misassumption people get from TV—that the private detective is always working on the case, like he’s got nothing else to do and if someone hires him he immediately drops everything and starts working just for them. In practice, I handle three to four cases a day and sometimes more. In this particular instance, after talking to Richard, I’d done the case in Queens, another in Jersey City, and a third in the Bronx. When the beep came through I was in Brooklyn, Bed Stuy to be exact, contemplating a third-floor walkup in remarkably poor repair, and speculating on whether the two rather tough-looking black men hanging out on the front steps would help me, hassle me, mug me, or kill me if I attempted to enter the building.
My beeper postponed the moment of truth. When it went off the two black men looked at me in surprise. In their neighborhood, anyone with a beeper was selling drugs.
Except me. Sorry, guys, I am no pusher. The beep would be either Wendy or Janet, one of Richard’s switchboard girls—who happened to have, identical voices so you could never tell which one of them you were dealing with—beeping me to give me a case. Which was likely to be for tomorrow, since it was now four-thirty. Unless it was an emergency case, which was rare.
It was neither. When I called in, it turned out Wendy/Janet had beeped me to give me a message to call Marlena.
“She was most insistent,” Wendy/Janet said. “She said it was urgent and she had to see you right away.”
Wendy or Janet, whichever one of them it was, was laying it on thick, in a voice that implied in no uncertain terms that she suspected some hanky-panky going on here.
I refused to play along, just copied down the phone number and broke the connection. I fished a quarter out of my pocket, dropped it in, and called Marlena.
She answered on the first ring. Small miracle there. Aside from a voice, Wendy and Janet shared an uncanny inaccuracy. Getting a phone number right was indeed a noteworthy occasion.
“Marlena?” I said.
“Yes.”
“Stanley Hastings.”
“Oh, thank god.”
“What’s the matter?”
“What you said.”
“What do you mean?”<
br />
“I was a fool. Blind. Irrational.”
“Oh?”
“I’m sorry. I should have listened.”
“That’s very gratifying. What should you have listened to?”
“You. You were absolutely right.”
“About what?”
“Barry, of course.”
“What about him?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not telling this well.”
“You’re not telling it at all. Calm down and start over.”
“Right. Right. I’m sorry.” There was a pause, then, “It’s about the negatives.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Just like you said. He called me up. Arrogant. Taunting. He has the negatives. He has more prints. Do I want them?”
“Do you?”
A pause, then, “What are you talking about? Of course I want them.”
“Oh?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Since you’re not in the pictures, I wondered why you cared.”
“Please. That’s not important. The fact is, you’ve gotta help me.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“What?”
“I did a job for you. It’s done. We have no business relationship anymore.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being anything. I’m just telling you how it is.”
“Well, I wanna hire you again.”
“That may or may not be possible.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m in trouble. I need help. We can work something out.”
“We can try.”
“Fine. We’ll try. You gotta come meet me.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“I’m in Brooklyn.”
“How long will it take you to get here?”
“Where’s here?”
“Manhattan.”
“That’s rather vague.”
“Downtown. The Village.”
“A couple of hours.”
“A couple of hours?”
“I got a case first.”
“Now? You got a case now?”
Yeah, I did. Which meant walking past two guys who looked like they’d like to rip my arms and legs off in order to steal my camera, beeper, wallet, or whatever, or just for the hell of it.
On the other hand, it’s amazing how one’s perceptions are colored by events. When I got off the phone with Marlena, I dropped another quarter in the phone and called up the client just to verify the address, since, as I say, Wendy/Janet are not always accurate. But when I did, not only was the address correct, but the client told me his brother and cousin were sitting on the front steps and could let me in.