Found money

59

Trumpets blared. Violins wept. Joe Kozelka was seated in a leather wing chair, allowing a glass of Chivas Regal to help him through Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.

Music helped him sort out his thoughts. Whenever life seemed without order, he would put it to music. The Ninth Symphony was his favorite, particularly the fourth movement. Experts thought it contained some of the master’s ugliest music. Kozelka had only the highest admiration for a man who could successfully incorporate his most controversial moments into his greatest overall achievement.

The music was suddenly soft. His thoughts turned toward Marilyn. In the nearly fifty years they’d known each other, they’d shared many memories. Strangely, the most memorable night for him was one of which Marilyn had no memory. It was the night Frank Duffy had driven them to Cheesman Dam. The night they’d all gotten drunk and parked on the canyon ridge.

His eyes drifted toward a Russian cut-crystal vase on the mantel. It sparkled beneath the track lighting, like the blanket of stars reflecting off the Cheesman reservoir. He sipped his Chivas, but it suddenly tasted like Southern Comfort. He remembered everything about that night, every little detail. He could smell the sweet bourbon, feel the warmth of his own erratic breath. He could see Marilyn passed out in the backseat of Frank’s car, watch himself get out and walk up the path toward his unsuspecting friend…

“Frank, hey,” said Joe.

Frank Duffy and his girlfriend were sitting on a fallen log, facing the moonlit canyon beyond the ridge. Joe was out of breath as he caught up with them.

Frank rose. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Marilyn. She passed out. And-”

“And what?”

Joe made a face. “She tossed her cookies all over your backseat.”

“Aww, man.”

“Hey, it’s not her fault. She never drank before.”

“How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad. Look for yourself.”

The boys ran toward the car. Linda followed behind. Frank opened the car door and immediately recoiled. The pungent odor was unmistakable. “Oh, gawd!”

Joe looked inside. Marilyn was lying on her back across the seat. A pool of vomit lay on the floor behind the driver’s seat. “At least she didn’t get any on her.”

“What about my car?” said Frank. “I’ll never get that smell out.”

Linda stuck her head in, sniffed, and stepped back. “Yuck. You’re on your own, Frankie boy. I’m not riding all the way back to Boulder in that. I’ll catch a ride with the others.”

“Linda, come on.”

“No way. I’m squeezing in the other car.” She hurried away before Frank could stop her.

Joe had an impish expression. “I think I’m going to ride back with the others, too.”

“No way! She’s your girlfriend.”

“Frank, I’m feeling kind of sick myself. If I ride back with you and that smell, I’m going to lose it, too. You want double the mess in your car? Just take her home for me, will you, please?”

“I can’t believe you’re bailing on me like this.”

“Come on, man. I can’t let Marilyn’s parents see me like this. They’re good friends with my old man. They’ll kill me.”

“What about me?”

“The worst that will happen is that her parents won’t let her double-date with Frank Duffy anymore. That’s no big deal. You’re not the one who wants to marry her.”

Frank’s eyes widened. “You’re in love with this girl?”

“Please. Just take her home. If her dad knows I got her drunk, I–I don’t know what I’ll do if he won’t let me see her anymore.”

Frank groaned, then said, “All right. What am I supposed to tell her parents?”

“I don’t know. Tell them she got food poisoning. Just don’t mention my name. Promise?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Frank dug for his car keys and opened the door. “But you owe me, Joe. Big time.”

Joe slapped him on the back, nearly shoving him into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, buddy. You have no idea.”

…The phone rang, drawing Kozelka from his memories. Beethoven’s symphony was in its fourth movement. The tumultuous Horror Fanfare had just begun when he hit the mute button and grabbed the phone.

“Yeah,” he said.

“It’s me,” said Nathan Rusch.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve beeped you a dozen times.”

“I’ve been… indisposed.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Rusch shook his head. Ex-prostitutes were like walking pharmacies. The effects of whatever Sheila had slipped him had not yet passed completely. “Long story.”

“I need you back in Denver tonight. Duffy contacted Marilyn directly. He expects her to show up at the Cheesman Dam at two A.M.”

“Why there?”

“Never mind, Rusch. Just get over here. I need you at the dam.”

“You don’t suspect an FBI setup?”

“No. It’s a clear case of like father, like son. The boy wants more money. He isn’t going to bring in the FBI to bear witness to his extortion. Besides, we have him boxed in so long as we have his father’s gun.”

Rusch rubbed his throbbing head. “One thing I should tell you. The gun is gone.”

“ Gone?” he said incredulously.

“The girl stole it, I think. She’s gone and the gun is gone.”

“Damn it, Rusch. The frame-up was our way of making sure that Duffy doesn’t talk to the FBI.”

“I realize that, sir.”

Kozelka guzzled the rest of his scotch. In a rare surge of rage, he squeezed the crystal so tightly it nearly crushed in his bare hand. “That leaves us one option. Scorched earth. Take out the targets who are pushing the hardest.”

“Meaning?”

“The lawyer and the ex-wife have to go. Preferably in one hit. Tonight.”

“Easy enough. I’m thinking maybe an urgent package marked personal and confidential, addressed to Liz Duffy but delivered to Jackson’s house. The lawyer shouldn’t open it without his client’s permission. Decent chance they’ll open it together. I guarantee, it’ll be the last thing that twosome ever does.”

“Good.” He tucked the phone under his chin and refilled his scotch. “Get it done before you meet Duffy at the dam. I want this to look like the boy went berserk. Killed his brother-in-law, his ex-wife, her lawyer.”

“And then?”

“Then he drove to the dam where his father raped a woman and blew his brains out.”

Rusch smirked. “My specialty.”

“Just don’t screw it up. I have everything riding on this.” The words lingered for a moment, then he hung up the phone.