Guardian Angel

He looked from me to the door, then at a phone in the corner of the small room. “I’ll give you five minutes, then I’m calling the bank security people and you can explain yourself to the Chicago cops. If you haven’t bought off all of them.” He took his heavy gold watch from his wrist and laid it ostentatiously on the table in front of him.

 

I dug in my bag for the envelope I’d prepared at Lake View and set it down in front of him, parallel to the watchband. “Even though you were hoping for Chrissie and got me, I think you’ll be pleased to see this stuff. I believe the two of you have been looking for it. This will save you the trouble of trying to arrange another breakin.”

 

He shot me a venomous look, but opened the envelope. When he’d unfolded the copies of the title and the bonds his face turned glassy again and the color seeped away from behind the skin. He studied them far longer than the four pieces of paper merited.

 

“The test will be tomorrow,” I said brightly. “Got them memorized yet?”

 

“I don’t know why you think I’d be interested in these things,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

 

“Oh, I expect because you, or someone you know, came busting into my place Friday night looking for them. Come to think of it, it must have been you—you’d know when I was away. Talk about police—I ought to bring them over here. I couldn’t figure out what you might want, but when I found these I had to believe I’d hit the jackpot.”

 

He suddenly picked up the papers and ripped them across.

 

“Not very bright, Vinnie: you must be able to see those are only copies. And now you’ve proved they’re important to you.” I watched his lips move wordlessly. “Let’s talk about the Diamond Head bonds. Did you sell them to Mrs. Frizell?”

 

He shook his head, still without speaking.

 

“Did you get Chrissie to sell them to Mrs. Frizell?… Am I getting warm?”

 

“I didn’t get anyone to sell them to her. I don’t know anything about them. I don’t even know they’re hers: bonds don’t have their owners’ names on them.” His voice gained strength as he spoke; he sounded positively pompous on the last sentence.

 

“You don’t find the fact that they’re with her house title suggestive? Or the fact that I discovered them nestled together in Mrs. Frizell’s box of most treasured possessions?”

 

“Yeah, I know you: you’d say anything. Like accusing me of breaking into your apartment just now. But the Picheas are the old lady’s legal guardians. If these things had been in her house they would have found them.”

 

I smiled. “They weren’t in her house though.”

 

“Where—” he started to blurt out, then stopped before completely betraying himself.

 

“Where were they? Ah, that’s why it pays to get a professional investigator when you’re after this kind of treasure. You have to know where to look.

 

“Let’s talk about the investment advice you and Chrissie have been spreading around the neighborhood. Mrs. Tertz, Mrs. Olsen, Mrs. Hellstrom, they all agree you’ve been coming around filled with helpful hints—how they can beat their CD rates by ten points. I have an ugly feeling that if they’d taken you up on it they’d have some Diamond Head paper too. Was this your own idea, or did the bank send you out to do it?”

 

He picked up his watch. “You’ve had your five minutes. Now I’m going to call security. And I’ll be meeting with a lawyer to talk about you slandering me.”

 

I grinned derisively. “Just don’t make it Dick Yar-borough or Todd Pichea. They’ve got enough to do these days. Now, if you call security, I’ll ring up the feds. They’re very interested in your kind of sales help. And they can subpoena bank files, which I can’t.”

 

He looked longingly at the phone, but couldn’t quite make up his mind to dial. “What do you want, anyway?”

 

“Information, Vinnie. Just information. I’ve figured out a fair amount, you know: you peddling Diamond Head’s junk, Todd and Chrissie taking over Mrs. Frizell’s assets… So they could get rid of the bonds before anyone saw them? Or just mortgage her house and then sell it off so she can’t spoil Yuppieville anymore? And I figure Todd’s law firm did the legal work when Jason Felitti debt-financed Diamond Head. And since Jason sits on the board here at U.S. Met, he must have got the bank to take on some of the junk. So he gets eager young bankers like you to sell it in your spare time. I see you guys going door to door, kind of like the Girl Scouts.”

 

And where was Dick in this scenario? Surely not asking Todd Pichea to sell Diamond Head bonds to the little old ladies in his neighborhood. I surely couldn’t have been in love once with someone who would carry on like that.

 

“I don’t have anything to say to you. It’s time for you to leave.” Vinnie’s voice came out in a hiss.

 

He didn’t try to phone the bank’s cops, but he wouldn’t talk, either. I kept at him for half an hour, alternately cajoling and painting a picture of his probable future in the federal pen, but he didn’t budge. When I finally got up to leave he was still staring ahead, glassy-eyed.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 37 - Needling the Fourth Estate