“Why?”
“His father has passed away.” He looked like another sneeze. It passed. “I’ve been retained by his bank to locate his only heir, John Jethro Potter. Kidro, his father, left a quite substantial estate.”
CAROLYN DIDN’T REACH Jason’s school until after dark and everybody had gone. She had forgotten and left her phone at the office or she’d have called Jimmy’s mother to pick them up, having been stuck in traffic on the Santa Monica Freeway. Maybe Jimmy had a cell phone. Maybe he’d called his mother to pick them up.
I hope so.
Jimmy’s mother did online surveys in her home office, so she had plenty of time. Carolyn couldn’t remember if it was Jimmy who got a new iPhone last Christmas. It might have been one of Jason’s other friends.
When Jason had asked for one, she'd told him she didn’t want him playing games and texting all day. She hadn’t wanted to admit they couldn’t afford it. That kind of news would have spread like cancer, the way kids talk.
It only took ten minutes to get home from the school but Jason wasn’t there. She put the Carvel cake in the freezer and called Jimmy’s house. The phone rang twice and a man answered, “O’Connell residence.” It wasn’t Jimmy’s father.
“Is Janine in?”
“Who’s calling?”
“This is Carolyn.”
“One moment.” People were in the room talking, muffled voices she couldn’t make out. Then Janine screamed, “Where were you?” After scuffling and more muffled voices, that same man said, “Please, Mrs. O’Connell, let me handle this.” He wasn’t talking into the phone but his voice was clear. When things got quiet, he said, “Are you Carolyn Potter?”
“Yes.” Her knees buckled and she sat on the floor. Something bad had happened.
TOM KIRBY DROVE UP Melrose toward Beverly Center to buy her kid his Swiss Army watch. Carolyn had said she couldn’t afford it, that it was probably too much for the kid’s age. Kirby didn’t care. He needed to impress.
He put on his earphone and dialed Lester.
“What you want?”
“Don’t call me on my office phone anymore. Call me on my cell.”
“Who you talking to, boy?”
“Knock off the crap, Lester. We’ve been doing business too long for this.”
Lester ground his teeth.
“I need to lay down more on the Dolphin-Jets game.”
“How much?”
“Ten.”
“Thousand?”
“Yeah, ten thousand on the Jets.”
“How you gonna pay that if you gonna lose?”
“Pay? Ha! There’s no way the Dolphins can beat that spread. Not in New York. The Jets are too strong and Miami’s got no quarterback.”
“You lose, how you gonna pay?”
“Vegas messed up this time.” Kirby knew how rarely that happened. It was time to cash in. After about ten seconds of Lester's clicking tongue, Kirby said, “Look, I just had a huge windfall. I’m going to marry into a huge fortune, could be bigger than my father’s whole damn company.”
“Yeah? Who’s the unlucky lady?”
“Thanks, you piece of . . .”
Better not.
“You don’t know her.” Kirby knew she liked him. He could tell. She was just holding back because of the kid. What difference would a kid make on lonely nights? “She’s loaded and doesn’t even know it yet.”
“You talkin’ crazy. I don’t take no long shots without you pay on time. You’re in too deep already.” Lester sounded resolute, probably knew it was a sure thing, probably laid a bundle down for himself and didn’t want to change the spread.
“Look, in less than two years, my parents will be legally dead. This whole publishing business will be mine, along with the house in the Palisades, ski lodge in Utah, the trust fund, and whatever else there is. Are we on?”
“You still talkin’ crazy. You know the kind of interest builds over a year?”
“You know my Mercedes?” Kirby was just desperate enough for that. “You’ve seen it.” Lester clicked his tongue, thinking, the little prick.
“Come on, Lester. I feel a win here.”
“That’s what losers always say.”
“This car’s worth at least fifty.”
“Don’t that belong to your old man?”
“No. It’s mine. He’s got a Rolls Bentley in the garage, belongs to the company, and Mom had a Beemer.”
“You owe money on it?”
“No. I paid cash. I have a car allowance. Check with a dealer. It was new last year.”
Stupid little . . .
“Look, Lester, I like you. We go way back. Don’t make me find a new book.” Knowing his cell phone would lose signal in the underground parking at Beverly Center, Kirby pulled over to the right and double parked on Melrose, listening to Lester’s clicking tongue.
“How I gonna get paid, wait for your daddy to get officially dead, wait to you marry a millionaire? All that interest gonna give everything to me.”
“Hold the pink on my car.”
You little prick.
“You crazy. You know that?”
“Yeah, crazy to be working with you, you pain in the ass. Are we on?”
“I just wrote it in my book. Where can we meet?”
“I’m just pulling into Beverly Center. I need to buy her kid a birthday present. I’ll meet you at the Cabo Cantina, say, ten o’clock.”
“I gonna send Otis. Bring the slip.”
“Of course.” As soon as Kirby hung up, his phone rang. It was Allison from the office. “Glad you called. Get somebody into my office to clean the carpet and disinfect the whole place. That guy left a nasty virus.” Call the CDC.
“Mr. Kirby, something’s happened. Carolyn Potter’s little boy is in the hospital. She called about the insurance.”
“Jesus. Tell me he’s covered.”
“No, sir. You changed our group coverage in June. We only cover employees now. You were waiting to see how Single Payer shapes up.”
Jesus!
"What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t know what to tell her until I spoke with you.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her I’d check into it and get back.”
“Good. Is it serious?”
“He’s in intensive care. He’s been unconscious for more than two hours from a head injury.”
“That’s a long time.”
“Yes it is, especially for someone
