‘What’s the problem?’
‘Well, I think she may be married or something like that. She’s never told me.’
‘All right. Just for the moment, let’s go back to you and Charles Lasser. You thought he was beating up on this woman, whose name you don’t know, and so you went to his office and gave him a hard time?’
‘That’s right. He denied it, of course, and he said that if I ever repeated it, he would have me hunted down, “like the vermin you are, and exterminated.” Those exact words. The next thing I know, my office is bombed, and Dar Tariki Tariqat puts out a statement that “anybody who accuses God of being cruel will be hunted down like vermin they are.”’
Frank handed him the transcript. Lieutenant Chessman read it with his lips moving. Then he looked up and said, ‘This is pretty tendentious evidence, Mr Bell. Maybe Dar Tariki Tariqat
‘What? I don’t think so.’
‘All the same, it seems like a much more logical explanation, don’t you think? It’s what you’re putting out on television that these terrorists are objecting to, Mr Bell, not you personally.’
‘So what about “vermin?”’
‘“Vermin” is a pretty common pejorative, Mr Bell. It doesn’t really establish a connection.’
‘But two guys came around tonight trying to kill me.’
‘Dar Tariki Tariqat are fanatics, Mr Bell. You write a TV show that they think is blasphemous, and because of that they want to get rid of you. That’s all.’
Frank said, ‘Maybe you’re right. But I still think Charles Lasser could be involved in this.’
‘OK. I’ll talk to Mr Lasser. I’m obliged to, since you’ve made a complaint. But I’ll have to be honest with you and tell you that I don’t think it’s going to come to anything.’
‘All right,’ said Frank. He hesitated, and then he said, ‘Ask him about Astrid.’
‘Oh, I will, and I’ll talk to her, too. Do you have some way that I can contact her?’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know where she lives and I don’t know her phone number. She always gets in touch with me. But I do know that she’s been seeing Charles Lasser, both at home and at his office. And I do know that he’s been hitting her, and worse. I’ve seen the bruises for myself.’
Detective Booker wrote that down. ‘To your knowledge, sir, has she ever made any complaints to the police about the way that Mr Lasser was mistreating her?’
‘Not that I know of. She didn’t even complain to me.’
Lieutenant Chessman took out a tiny ball of Kleenex and blew his nose. ‘Women . . . who can understand them, huh? The bigger the bastard, the harder they fall. Listen, I’ll talk to Mr Lasser tomorrow and then I’ll call you to put you in the picture, how’s that?’
‘What about protection? What do I do if those guys come back?’
‘Well, I was going to suggest that you find someplace else to stay. Maybe another hotel.’
He was just about to leave when the night manager appeared – a young man with a wispy black moustache and a jazzy pink and orange shirt, and shorts.
‘What’s going on here? What the hell happened to this door? I mean, look at it! What the hell happened to this
Lieutenant Chessman gave Frank a sympathetic slap on the back. ‘Like I said, maybe another hotel.’
He stayed that night with Carol and Smitty. He told Carol that his room at the Sunset Marquis had been double booked, and that a late-arriving guest had shown up from Japan. He didn’t want to frighten her. But when Carol had gone to bed and he and Smitty sat down to some late-night TV and a couple of beers, he explained to Smitty what had really happened.
‘Shit,’ said Smitty. ‘Who did the cops think they were?’
‘They think that they probably came from Dar Tariki Tariqat, and that they were trying to finish what they started.’
‘They didn’t see any connection with Charles Lasser?’
‘They said that it was probably coincidence, him using the word “vermin.” That’s all.’
‘And they didn’t offer you any protection?’
‘They suggested I change hotels, that’s all.’
Smitty put down his can of beer, stood up, and went through to his study. After a short while he came back with a folded chamois leather. He cleared aside the ashtray and the empty beer cans, and then he laid it down on the coffee table.
‘Here, I bought this in ninety-eight, when we had that burglary.’ He unfolded the leather, and revealed a .38 nickel-plated revolver in a belt holster. ‘Why don’t you borrow it – you know, just till this is all over? It’s loaded.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Frank. ‘I’m not at all happy about guns.’
‘I don’t care if you’re happy or not, so long as you’re alive. Here – no argument, take it. You won’t ever have to use it, now you’ve got it, but at least you’ve got it, in case you need it.’
Twenty-Four
The next morning he was on his way to Nevile’s house when his cellphone rang.
‘Frank. It’s Margot.’
‘Oh, yes? What do you want?’
She hesitated, deterred by his aggressive response. But then she said, ‘I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was about Lizzie and Mo. You must be devastated.’
‘Yes, well, thank you. It was a miracle they didn’t get me, too.’
‘If you want to meet me, Frank, and talk about it . . .’
‘No, thanks. But thanks.’
‘Frank . . . I don’t want things to come to the point where we’re not even speaking to each other.’
‘No, me neither. I’ll call you later, if I get the time, OK?’
‘All right, then.’
He was still thinking about Margot as he overshot the entrance to Nevile’s house. The truth was, he was beginning to miss her, in a way. She might have taken herself way too seriously, with her Eastern philosophy and her paintings and her macrobiotic diets, but that was one of the things that had first attracted him, because it had brought stability and order into his life, whereas he had always been susceptible to sudden enthusiasms, and to rush off and do things before he had thought them through – followed by deep depression because they hadn’t worked out.
Even her paintings didn’t seem so bad, in retrospect. They were calm; they were peaceful. And, as Mo had once remarked, they were no more objectionable than a blank wall, after all.
He U-turned outside the Earth Mother Juice Stand, his tires squealing, and doubled back. Further up the road a hitch-hiker, his thumb already half lifted, frowned at him in annoyance, as if his future had suddenly changed in front of his eyes.
Nevile was sitting in his study, laying out picture cards on his polished black marble table.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked. His black shirt was buttoned up to the neck but he wasn’t wearing a necktie, so that he looked like an ascetic priest.
Frank eased himself down on the opposite side of the table. ‘I feel like I’ve been over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Twice nightly, with an extra performance on Saturday afternoons.’
Nevile looked up. ‘How about mentally?’
‘Sad. And very angry. Revenge? Jesus . . . if I could lay my hands on those bastards . . .’
‘When are the police going to talk to Charles Lasser?’
‘Today sometime, they told me. It probably won’t do any good.’
Nevile dealt more cards, then frowned.
‘What’s this?’ asked Frank. ‘Fortune-telling?’
‘No, it’s a game. Cats and Moons. It’s like solitaire except that you play it with a spirit.’
