“Man oh man.” Darla tried to wither him with a gaze. He just laughed and cuffed her.
Schaeffer put his gun away and said to the man, “Let me see some ID.”
“Oh, please, officer, look, I didn’t-”
“Some ID?” Schaeffer said. He was polite, like always. When you had a badge in your pocket and a big fucking pistol on your hip you could afford to be civil.
The man dug his thick wallet out of his slacks and handed it to the officer, who read the license. “Mr. Shelby, this your current address? In Des Moines?”
In a quivering voice, he said, “Yessir.”
“All right, well, you’re under arrest for solicitation of prostitution.” He took his cuffs out of their holder.
“I didn’t do anything illegal, really. It was just… It was only a date.”
“Really? Then what’s this?” The detective picked up a stack of money sitting on the cockeyed nightstand. Four hundred bucks.
“I-I just thought…”
The old guy’s mind was working fast, that was obvious. Schaeffer wondered what excuse he’d come up with. He’d heard them all.
“Just to get some food and something to drink.”
That was a new one. Schaeffer tried not to laugh. You spend four hundred bucks on food and booze in this neighborhood, you could afford a block party big enough for fifty Darlas.
“He pay you to have sex?” Schaeffer asked Darla.
She grimaced.
“You lie, baby, you know what’ll happen to you. You’re honest with me, I’ll put in a word.”
“You a prick too,” she snapped. “All right, he pay me to do a round-the-world.”
“No…” Shelby protested for a moment but then he gave up and slumped even lower. “Oh, Christ, what’m I gonna do? This’ll kill my wife… and my kids…” He looked up with panicked eyes. “Will I have to go to jail?”
“That’s up to the prosecutor and the judge.”
“Why the hell’d I do this?” he moaned.
Schaeffer looked him over carefully. After a long moment he said, “Take her downstairs.”
Darla snapped, “Yo, you fat fuck, keep yo’ motherfuckin’ hands offa me.”
Bernbaum laughed again. “This mean you ain’t my girlfriend no more?” He gripped her by the arm and led her outside. The door swung shut.
“Look, detective, it’s not like I robbed anybody. It was harmless. You know, victimless.”
“It’s still a crime. And don’t you know about AIDS, hepatitis?”
Shelby looked down again. He nodded. “Yessir,” he whispered.
Still holding the cuffs, Schaeffer eyed the man carefully. He sat down on a creaky chair. “How often you get to town?”
“To New York?”
“Yeah.”
“Once a year, if I’ve got a conference or meeting. I always enjoy it. You know what they say, ‘It’s a nice place to visit.’” His voice faded, maybe thinking that the rest of that old saw-“but you wouldn’t want to live there”-would insult the cop.
Schaeffer asked, “So, you got a conference now?” He pulled the badge out of the man’s pocket, read it.
“Yessir, it’s our annual trade show. At the Javits. Outdoor furniture manufacturers.”
“That’s your line?”
“I have a wholesale business in Iowa.”
“Yeah? Successful?”
“Number one in the state. Actually, in the whole region.” He said this sadly, not proudly, probably thinking of how many customers he’d lose when word got out about his arrest.
Schaeffer nodded slowly. Finally he put the handcuffs away.
Shelby’s eyes narrowed, watching this.
“You ever done anything like this before?”
A hesitation. He decided not to lie. “I have. Yessir.”
“But I get a feeling you’re not going to again.”
“Never. I promise you. I’ve learned my lesson.”
There was a long pause.
“Stand up.”
Shelby blinked then did what he was told. He frowned as the cop patted down his trousers and jacket. With the guy not wearing a shirt, Schaeffer was ninety-nine percent sure the man was legit, but had to make absolutely certain there were no wires.
The detective nodded toward the chair and Shelby sat down. The businessman’s eyes revealed that he now had an inkling of what was happening.
“I have a proposition for you,” Schaeffer said.
“Proposition?”
The cop nodded. “Okay. I’m convinced you’re not going to do this again.”
“Never.”
“I could let you go with a warning. But the problem is, the situation got called in.”
“Called in?”
“A vice cop on the street happened to see you go into the hotel with Darla-we know all about her. He reported it and they sent me out. There’s paperwork on the incident.”
“My name?”
“No, just a John Doe at this point. But there
Shelby sighed, nodding with a grimace, and opened the bidding.
It wasn’t much of an auction. Shelby kept throwing out numbers and Schaeffer kept lifting his thumb, more, more… Finally, when the shaken man hit $150,000, Schaeffer nodded.
“Christ.”
When T.G. and Ricky Kelleher had called to say that he’d found a tourist to scam, Ricky told him the mark could go six figures. That was so far out of those stupid micks’ league that Schaeffer had to laugh. But sure enough, he had to give the punk credit for picking out a mark with big bucks.
In a defeated voice Shelby asked, “Can I give you a check?”
Schaeffer laughed.
“Okay, okay… but I’ll need a few hours.”
“Tonight. Eight.” They arranged a place to meet. “I’ll keep your driver’s license. And the evidence.” He picked up the cash on the table. “You try to skip, I’ll put out an arrest warrant and send that to Des Moines too. They’ll extradite you and
“Oh, no, sir. I’ll get the money. Every penny.” Shelby hurriedly dressed.
“Go out by the service door in back. I don’t know where the vice cop is.”
The tourist nodded and scurried out of the room.
In the lobby by the elevator the detective found Bernbaum and Darla sharing a smoke.
“Where my money?” the hooker demanded.
Schaeffer handed her two hundred of the confiscated cash. He and Bernbaum split the rest, a hundred fifty for Schaeffer, fifty for his partner.
“You gonna take the afternoon off, girlfriend?” Bernbaum asked Darla.
“Me? Hell no, I gots to work.” She glanced at the money Schaeffer’d given her. “Least till you assholes start paying me fo’ not fuckin’ same as I make
Schaeffer pushed into Mack’s bar, an abrupt entrance that changed the course of at least half the conversations going on inside real fast. He was a crooked cop, sure, but he was still a cop, and the talk immediately shifted from deals, scams, and drugs to sports, women, and jobs. Schaeffer laughed and strode across the room. He dropped into an empty chair at the scarred table, muttered to T.G., “Get me a beer.” Schaeffer being about the only one in the universe who could get away with that.
