Falls The Shadow

78

One final act of surveillance.

It wasn’t such a tricky piece, this one. There was a sea of cars parked in a wide parking lot. I slipped my car between an Explorer and a red Dodge pickup and set it so I had a perfect view of the big gray door. Then it was just a matter of waiting. But no coffee needed this time, I had company to keep me awake.

“What are we doing here, exactly?” said Beth.

“Surveilling.”

“Why?”

“Well, I can really use the practice. And I also want to know who he called to meet him on his first minute out.”

“He told me he was meeting up with his daughter.”

“That would be nice. But let’s wait and see.”

“I’m just relieved that the whole thing is over.”

“You know who seemed really relieved?”

“Who?”

“Mia Dalton. When Torricelli told her everything about Dr. Bob in the courtroom, you could see her jaw muscles twitch. I think she would have dismissed the case right there, except for what it would have done politically to her boss. I never saw a prosecutor let out such a breath of gratitude at a not-guilty verdict.”

“She offered me the job again.”

“She’s relentless.”

“I told her it doesn’t pay enough.”

“It pays more than you’re getting with me.”

“But the benefits, Victor, the benefits.”

“They get dental over there.”

“Reason enough to stay put.”

It was a hot, sunny day. Our windows were open, but still it was warm in the car. I took off my jacket. I took off my tie. If it had been seemly, I would have taken off my pants, too.

“I’m sorry,” said Beth.

“Okay,” I said.

“I never got a chance to apologize, and I wanted to.”

“I accept.”

“You don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.”

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want to apologize for, I’ll take it. It doesn’t happen so often.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

“For being so unprofessional.”

“That’s what you’re apologizing for?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, Beth, you can do better than that. Being unprofessional is what we do. Derringer and Carl, the unprofessional professionals. In fact, we should copyright that before the CIA steals it. If we had to go around in these stinking suits acting like professionals all the time, what would be the point? I’d quit the business.”

“What would you do?”

I thought for a moment. “I’d like to try my hand at being a foot model. I’m told I have very lovely feet.”

“Who told you that?”

“A very nice Vietnamese woman who was giving me a pedicure.”

She sat back, stared at me for a long moment. “You never fail to astonish me.”

“You want to see?”

“God, no.” She turned to look out the front window for a moment, stared at the still-closed metal door. “So what should I be apologizing for?”

“I don’t know. I don’t do the whole accept-apology thing very well. I always want to say, ‘Forget the apology and just give me cash.’ ”

“For doubting you,” said Beth.

“Okay,” I said. “I accept.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“You were taking care of me the whole time. Even playing those tapes in court. They were as much for me as for the jury, weren’t they?”

“Can lawyers plead the Fifth Amendment?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s what we do, Beth. We take care of each other.”

“I don’t know where it came from, but I was just overwhelmed. I don’t remember ever feeling so emotionally fragile, so emotionally invested. I don’t ever remember feeling something that strong before.”

“Oh, no?”

She laughed. “You think different? When?”

“Think about it.”

“Victor, I don’t-”

“Hold on,” I said. “There’s the door.”

The big gray door opened a sliver. A guard walked through the opening. He took off his guard hat, wiped his brow with a forearm, put the guard hat back on just so. And then out stepped François Dubé.

I could sense Beth beside me, holding her breath.

François was dressed in a white shirt, open at the collar, and the pants from one of the suits he wore at the trial. He carried no suitcase; I suppose there was nothing inside worth taking with him. He shook the guard’s hand, looked around for a moment, waited for the guard to go back inside and close the door behind him. Then he took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, tapped one into his mouth, flicked a match to life, cupped his hands around the flame. He cut quite a dashing figure, did François, almost as if he were posing, like something out of a Godard film, Jean-Paul Belmondo in Breathless, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb.

And it didn’t take long for his Jean Seberg to arrive.

The black limousine turned in to the parking lot, passed right by us, slid to a stop in front of François. The back door opened from the inside, before the chauffeur could do it himself, and out popped – who else? – Velma Takahashi.

“I guess the papers got signed,” I said as François tossed away his cigarette and the two embraced.

“I don’t understand,” said Beth.

“Her divorce papers with Takahashi,” I said. “I suppose, after the verdict, she agreed to a quick settlement just to get it over with. Now there’s no more reason to hide in the shadows. She loves him. She always loved him. She gave him to Leesa to keep him for herself while she married Takahashi and his money. And everything’s worked better than she could have hoped. She’s free of Takahashi, she’s loaded down with Takahashi money, and Leesa’s out of the picture. She can spend the rest of her life with François, at least until she gets bored again.”

“That’s why she tried to set up the fake story with Sonenshein.”

“To get François out,” I said. “Even though she thought he really had done it, she missed the big galoot.”

“And he loves her,” she said softly.

“So it appears, or her new bank account. It’s hard to tell when looking into the lifestyles of the sick and self-absorbed.”

We watched quietly as the two, still embracing, maneuvered themselves into the open door of the limousine. Doors slammed with resonant thunks, the limousine pulled away. Beth wiped at her eye.

“I still feel something. Is that crazy?”

“Yes. He has our bill, but it’s her money, so I don’t expect we’ll see any of what he still owes us. Nothing has a lower priority than paying yesterday’s lawyer.”

“What about his daughter?” she said.

“You figure it out. His first call was to Velma. He’s not the type to hang around for his daughter.”

“The poor little girl.”

“Remember Gullicksen, Leesa’s divorce attorney? I sent him to the Cullens, along with copies of the tapes. They’re going to fight for custody.”

“Is he going to fight them back?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Victor, you don’t know. It’s her father. She’ll miss him forever.”

“Probably, yes. I’ve spoken to the Cullens. They said the daughter is going to need some support. The Cullens were looking at the Big Sister program. I gave them your name.”

“Victor.”

“You stuck me with Daniel Rose. I’m returning the favor.”

“I won’t be able to help.”

“Sure you will.”

“She’ll miss him forever. It will never go away.”

“But you’ll still be able to help.”

“I don’t think so. I’m all wrong for it.” She paused for a moment. “Before, you asked about my father.”

“Did I?”

“I don’t think I ever told you about him.”

“No.”

“I don’t think I ever told anybody.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do.”

“Want to go somewhere?”

“No, this is fine,” she said. “We might be a while.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “But first, it’s sort of hot. Do you mind if I take off my pants?”