Upon A Pale Horse

TWENTY-SIX Further Information

“I’d like to get together with you today, if possible. Meet at the same bar at seven?” Jakes asked, his voice emotionless over the pay phone around which the Monday lunch crowd milled like ants.

“Sure, but can’t you just give me the high points over the phone?” Jeffrey asked. The connection was terrible, and he strained to make out any nuance over the roar of traffic.

“I’d rather do it in person. See you at seven,” Jakes said before disconnecting.

Jeffrey stared at the phone and replaced the handset, a sense of foreboding stewing in his stomach. Then his logical side reminded him that the man was likely going through the motions so that Jeffrey felt like it had been money well spent — the insistence on an in-person meeting to close the case was undoubtedly stylistic, probably so that he could get a check for the final balance at the same time.

He paused as he stared at the pay phone, and considered calling the number Kaycee had given him. There was no reason he could think of for doing so, and after an internal debate he abandoned the idea in favor of returning to work and earning his considerable keep.

Seven rolled around before he knew it, and he begged off with Monica again in favor of doing his own laundry and running errands in preparation for the Switzerland trip, now only two days away. When he entered the darkened pub, he immediately spotted Jakes at the same table as the last time, and after a glance around the place, walked over and sat across from him.

“So? I’m here. What do you have for me?” Jeffrey asked, eyes trailing the bartender as he meandered over to them to take their order. “I’ll take a draft ale, please. Jakes?”

“Coke.”

The bartender nodded and returned to the bar as Jeffrey studied Jakes’ poker face.

“Let’s wait for your drink so we aren’t interrupted,” Jakes said, his voice raspy as a tractor-trailer’s exhaust.

“Fair enough. Is it so bad I’m going to need something stronger?” Jeffrey joked, then his smile faded as Jakes’ expression didn’t change. “What did you find?”

The bartender returned with the drinks, and Jakes leaned back in his chair, which creaked under the bulk of his weight. He fixed Jeffrey with a weary stare and then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small note pad.

“We can start with her living situation. She doesn’t live with two roommates. She actually has a very nice apartment about nine blocks away in a high-end building that ain’t cheap. So the bit about the roommates isn’t true.”

“Wait. How do you know that she doesn’t have roommates?”

“Only one name on the box, and for a hundred bucks the custodian told us that she’s the only one in the place.” Jeffrey scowled, and Jakes held up a hand to stop any protest. “I used a female to do it, and trust me, the custodian isn’t going to be talking.”

“Shit. Are you positive?”

“I do this for a living, remember?”

“Yeah. So I heard. Thanks for the car, by the way.”

“There were no new blood stains in it, so I’m glad it came in handy.” Jakes didn’t crack a smile as he said it.

“Okay, so she misstated her living situation. Why, we don’t know.”

“Correct. And that’s not all.”

Jeffrey took a long pull on his beer. “What else?”

“The car was sticking in my craw, so I did some more checking on it. The company is located in Langley, Virginia, but strangely has no storefront, no offices, nothing. It’s basically a P.O. box.”

“Which tells us nothing other than that perhaps she had an asset protection guy set up something to ensure her anonymity.”

“Possibly. But there’s the matter of her other car. A white Mercedes convertible, which is in her name. One year old. Nice. About sixty grand, give or take. Paid for. There’s no loan on it.”

“I’ve never seen her drive a Benz. Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ve got a photo of her behind the wheel — she left for the day about an hour and a half after she took off from your place. Went back to her apartment, changed, and then drove away in her E350. My operative didn’t have time to follow her — by the time she’d gotten her car started and pursued her, Monica had disappeared around the corner. Apparently she drives like a maniac.”

“I can attest to that.”

They both sat in silence.

“That’s it?”

“No. She also has a police record, but that will take more digging.”

“A police record!” Jeffrey’s mouth hung open. This wasn’t the conversation he thought he would be having. “For what?”

“I don’t know. The record’s sealed. The only reason I know is because I pay people with specialized access to a different layer of the database. But I can’t see what’s been sealed. At least not without a lot more money. So all we know is she was arrested when she was seventeen, and then the records got sealed, which isn’t unusual for a juvenile.”

“Tell me that’s all.”

Jakes rubbed a large hand over his tired face and took a sip of his soda, then nodded. “That’s it. Which brings you to decision time.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“You need to figure out what you want to do. I’d advise you to have another day or two of surveillance conducted and throw some resources at discovering what she was charged with. But it’s your call, and I don’t want to seem like I’m just fishing for a way to do you out of more money. You’re into this about three grand now, and what I’m proposing would easily double that. So it’s not a choice I’d make lightly.”

Jeffrey shook his head. “This is all… I’m really not sure what to make of it.”

“Could be nothing. Maybe the lady didn’t want you to know she lived alone in case you were some kind of nut job or stalker, so she has a stock line about her roommates, and one thing led to another and she decided it didn’t matter or she was too embarrassed to confess. Could be she’s rich, and she doesn’t want you to know it, which is why she’s driving the Alfa. I’m still waiting for bank records. We should have them this week — they take longer.”

“How do you do that?”

“We pull a credit report and then mark having done so as an error so it doesn’t show up, and then we pretext to get the records.”

“That can’t be legal.”

“Do you really care?”

Jeffrey stiffened. “I’m an officer of the court…”

“Right. But the question stands.”

“Officially, of course. Personally, not in the slightest.”

“Then it’s good this a personal issue. But you still need to decide how to proceed. I’m okay if you want to walk away. Like I said, there could be an easy explanation for it all. On the arrest, she could have been busted for smoking weed, for all I know, or graffiti tagging or whatever the hell kids do these days. It really depends on how sure you want to be. If you want definites, you’ll need to go the distance. If not, put your mind at ease with what we have and enjoy her company. I mean, it’s not like you’re hiring her for a top secret clearance position, right? She’s a girlfriend.”

Jeffrey mulled over the big man’s words. “What would you do?”

“If I was super serious, as in thinking about getting married serious? I’d pay to be sure. If I was hanging out with her, banging around? What do you really need to know besides she’s a knockout and she’s up for it? Things can’t have changed that much since I was young and single…”

Jeffrey drank another large mouthful of beer, which suddenly tasted like motor oil. He wished he could confide in Jakes, but that was off the table. Besides, he was a big boy, and he knew what he needed to do.

“I brought another two thousand. Let’s do the full monty. I’m pretty serious about her.”

He carefully counted out the cash and slid it across the table to the investigator, who counted it wordlessly before pocketing it and patting his breast pocket.

“Do you want the photo of the car?” Jakes asked.

Jeffrey shrugged. “What’s the point? Save it until you have everything and we settle up the final tab.”

They agreed that Jakes would begin surveillance on Wednesday — he needed twenty-four hours to arrange for a pro team so they could go round the clock for two days if they needed to. Jeffrey paid the tab and they both left the bar, Jeffrey feeling dizzy from the unexpected turn the investigation had taken. He stopped on the way home and bought a deli sandwich at a corner market and then checked the time — he’d arranged for a locksmith to be at the condo at eight, figuring erroneously that the meeting would take only a few minutes.

When he made it back the locksmith was standing at the front entry, wearing a jacket emblazoned with the company logo on the back, shifting from foot to foot as he checked his watch. Jeffrey apologized for being late and escorted him up to the condo, then showed him into the bedroom so he could check out the safe. After a single glance he turned to Jeffrey and told him it would be two hundred dollars. Jeffrey nodded, and the locksmith knelt and opened the toolbox he’d brought and extracted a stethoscope and some tools. Jeffrey sat on the edge of the bed and watched as he went about his work, and ten minutes later he opened the safe with a metallic clunk and swung the small door open.

Jeffrey waited until the man had left the condo before extracting the safe’s contents, which consisted of a steel and gold Rolex Submariner watch, four thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills, five one-ounce gold ingots in protective plastic sleeves, and a sheaf of mortgage documents. There was no hidden message or clue, but he hadn’t expected any — if his suspicions about the condo being wired were correct, any intruders would have gone through the safe as well, sanitizing it before anyone could get to it.

Jeffrey donned the watch, trading his Tag for the heavier Rolex, and pocketed the cash and the gold. He’d pack it for his trip — he had no idea what he’d find in Zurich, but having some extra liquidity couldn’t hurt.

After memorizing the combination the locksmith had scrawled on the back of his receipt, he returned the mortgage docs and his old watch to the safe and moved to the dining room, where his sandwich was languishing on the table.

As he munched on the tasteless blob of starch and faux-cheese-layered meat, he turned over Jakes’ findings in his head, hoping that Monica’s subterfuge was all innocent. A coil of anxiety cautioned him that he couldn’t assume anything, and to wait to draw any conclusions until he had all the information — hopefully available by the end of the week. A wave of nausea hit him at the possibility that everything Monica and he had shared together had been a lie. After the disequilibrium passed, he stood and balled up the remainder of the sandwich and strode into the kitchen. He tossed it into the trash and retrieved a beer for a liquid dinner, cold comfort against the dread that was inexorably creeping into his soul.