Schemers

30

Gregory Pollexfen spent less than eight hours in jail. His criminal attorney, an even more high-powered gent than Arthur Sayers, called in a favor and got him released on a minimal amount of bail.

That was the good news for Pollexfen. The bad news was that at eleven thirty Saturday morning, he suffered a stress-induced heart attack while cleaning up his library and was now in the intensive care unit at UCSF.

Joe DeFalco called to tell me the news. Quid pro quo. I owed him a favor, so I’d given him first crack at the story of Jeremy Cullrane’s murder after Inspectors Yin and Davis carted Pollexfen away Friday morning. DeFalco is a look-out-for-number-one muckraker, but I’d known him a long time and he plays fair when he doesn’t have a personal agenda.

“What’s the prognosis?” I asked him. “Is Pollexfen going to make it?”

“Probably not. Long history of health problems, one of them a bad heart.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Chances are he’ll never stand trial for his crimes.”

Not in this world, anyway.

O n Monday morning I went over to Great Western Insurance to hand-deliver the agency invoice on the Pollexfen case. I also took along my copy of Barney Rivera’s promissory note for the $5,000 bonus, just in case he’d forgotten offering it and putting the offer in writing.

Tamara had taken the day off again, but evidently not for the same reason as last Monday. She’d called Sunday night, said she wasn’t feeling well, the flu or something; and if the listless, choked-up sound of her voice was any indicator, she was liable to be out more than one day. No problem for me to handle office business until she returned, just not this morning. Jake Runyon had a full schedule, so I’d brought Alex Chavez in to stand watch while I paid my visit to Great Western’s chief claims adjustor.

Rivera’s attactive blond assistant, Margot Lee, was at her desk when I walked into GW’s claims department. She took one look at me and assumed a stiff, professional posture. I knew what she was going to say even before she opened her mouth-a parroting of what her boss had told her to say if I called or showed up.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Rivera is unavailable without an appointment. He has a very busy schedule today.”

“I’ll bet he had a busy weekend, too.” I leaned confidentially on her desk and winked at her. “The two of you have a nice time together?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You and Barney. Go somewhere or stay in alone?”

“I have no idea what-Just what are you implying?”

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I’m always discreet. Mum’s the word about the affair.”

“… What affair?”

“You and Barney, of course.”

She had begun to look as if she’d just stepped out of cold storage; you could almost see the frost forming on her.

“Who told you that we were having an affair?” Frost on the words, too.

“He did, the last time I was here. Strict confidence, of course.”

“I see. Exactly what did he say?”

“Oh, you know. That it was no big deal, just a casual fling.” I winked again. “He said some, ah, very flattering things about you. Not too subtle, but still flattering.”

“Oh, he did, did he? Well, it’s not true!”

“No? You and Barney aren’t-?”

“Certainly not!” She sounded as though she found the notion insulting, if not downright nauseating. There was heat in her eyes now and pretty soon it would melt the frost. When that happened…

“I’m going in to see him now,” I said. “You won’t announce me or try to stop me, will you?”

Ms. Lee said in an icy-hot voice, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The metaphorical needle I’d come here with had been about a foot and a half long. I figured it for double that length and rapier sharp when I went into Rivera’s private office. When I came out again a few minutes later, I didn’t have it anymore-it was puncturing his backside, all the way through both chubby cheeks.

There are satisfactions in this business, some greater than others. This one ranked right up there near the top.