Invasion of Privacy - Jeremiah Healy (28 page)

"Cuddy, just what is your stake in this?"

"Let me finish. After I knock on some doors at
the complex, one Andrew Dees, who I hadn't yet seen, seems to know
about me."

Hendrix looked confused. "Dees? Yeah, I think
that's one of the names there. So what?"

I shook my head. "The cat's out of the bag,
Boycie. Your Dees is a figment of the federal imagination. The real
Dees died two days after graduating from college, up where," I
thumbed toward Coarse behind me, "one of your loyal troops has a
relative on the force."

Now Hendrix sat stock-still, no expression on his
face. I tried to phrase things as though I didn't know about the
Milwaukee connection. "I'm guessing Chief Braverman gave you
guys the idea of using a real—or 'formerly real'—identity for
whoever your 'cooperating witness' was in his prior life, when he
must have helped you or the FBI or somebody on a major case."

Hendrix worked his mouth, much like Fine had. "No
comment."

"Terrific. Just listen, then. When I saw the guy
you have as Dees, he knew I was reaching for a questionnaire before I
ever showed it to him. So somebody must have put a call in to him.
Maybe you, except I didn't show or even refer to my form when I was
here. That tells me you've got somebody in the complex with Dees,
somebody who tipped you or him about the questionnaire I'd been using
with the neighbors."

Hendrix was looking a little green around the gills.
Thinking back to Robert Murphy at Boston Homicide, I said, "A
watcher, maybe?"

Greener still. I could hear Coarse breathing behind
me. "Make a phone call, Boycie. We start up again when the
watcher joins us."

Hendrix really didn't like the turn things had taken,
but I didn't see a way out for him, and apparently he didn't, either.

His next comment was aimed above my shoulder. "Keep
him here."

After Hendrix closed the
inner door, Coarse rested a beefy hand on either side of my neck. I
tensed, but all he did was say, "The chief's my uncle,"
then let go of me.

* * *

When the inner door opened again, Fine came through
first, apparently to make sure Coarse was still holding the fort.
Then Hendrix followed him in. Tangela Robinette appearing behind
Hendrix made us a quintet.

"Ms. Robinette," I said.

"Mr. Cuddy," watching me like Coco Cocozzo
had. No smile, no frown, just concentration.

I looked over at Fine. "Just so I can speak
politely about everybody, what's your name'?"

Fine looked to Robinette, not Hendrix, which
confirmed something I'd already suspected. The woman glanced briefly
to the side and then came back to me, nodding once.

Fine said, "Kourmanos."

"A pleasure. And the gentleman behind me?"

Coarse said, "Braverman."

"Thanks." Back to Robinette. “Let me
catch you up on the conversation so far. After I saw Hendrix here
on—"

"Boyce already filled me in, Mr. Cuddy. Who are
you working for and why?"

"I'm getting to that."

"Get to it now."

"No."

We looked at each other for a while. I had the
feeling that Robinette wouldn't blink first.

I said, "All right. A client came to see me.
Said she was a little concerned about her boyfriend-cum-fiancé not
seeming to have a background. She asked me to check into——"

"Jesus fucking Christ," said Hendrix. "His
girl-friend is your client?"

Without looking away from me, Robinette said, "Boyce?
Please?"

Hendrix shut up.

I said, "I come to see Boycie—"

"You say that one more time, fucker, and—"

Robinette said, "Boyce," again, this time
with that steel core in her voice.

Hendrix folded his arms across his chest.

I looked at Robinette. "I come here, I visit you
all at Plymouth Willows, then Dees at the photocopy shop, where he's
already upset about me. I head back to Boston, and you guys check me
out. Not too thoroughly, I'm thinking, just enough to make sure I'm
who and what I say I am, a licensed investigator. Then Kourmanos and
Braverman try to convince me as unconstitutionally as possible that
Hendrix Management is mob-connected, emphasizing how I can save my
butt by butting out. Whose idea was that, by the way?"

Robinette's nostrils flared a little, as they had
when I'd riled her back in the condo unit. "Let us just say it
was not a unanimous decision."

"Well, it might have worked, I suppose. But it
didn't, because other than you all obviously being made nervous that
anybody was asking any questions, you couldn't have known I was after
Dees in particular. That's why I let my client know I'd been warned
off, but I told her the rotten apple still might be the management
company or the condo complex, not Dees himself. So I go up to the
university yesterday and try to get a copy of the guy's college
records with a nicely worded letter of authorization."

"Which the college notices is forged," said
Hendrix.

"Because a lifer in the registrar's office knows
the real Dees wouldn't be signing current correspondence. And that
gets me an introduction to Deputy Marshal Braverman's—what is he,
your father?"

I hoped Braverman would like the way I covered for
him. Robinette's eyes went up behind me briefly, and Braverman said,
"Close enough."

I returned to Robinette. "Only problem is, there
had to be some failure of communication between Vermont and
Marshfield yesterday too, because you guys didn't know I was
interested in Dees himself after I saw the chief."

Hendrix said, "What makes you think we didn't?"

I spoke to him. "Because if you did, either you
tell Dees his cover is blown, which seems to me the right thing to
do, or you don't tell him squat and watch his movements, waiting to
see what happens next."

Hendrix said, "Or we just have you put under
surveillance."

"I don't think so. I might not have noticed
right away, but I left Chief Braverman yesterday afternoon, and I've
been taking precautions ever since Kourmanos and Braverman here paid
me their first visit the day before. Nobody from your end's been
watching me. So what happened when the chief finally got you the word
that I was after Dees personally? Did you tell Dees or stay on the
sidelines?"

Robinette said, "Why do you want to know'?"

She seemed genuinely curious. In a very even voice, I
said, "Because my client has disappeared."

Hendrix looked around at everybody. Kourmanos looked
back at him, Robinette didn't, and Braverman I couldn't see.

Robinette said, "Since when?"

"Yesterday afternoon, when she left her bank."

"To do what?"

"She didn't say."

Robinette's eyes went down toward the table top,
trying to work the problem through.

I said, "You didn't tell Dees anything, did
you?"

No answer.

"You just let him twist in the wind after he saw
me at his photocopy place on Wednesday, let the man wonder who I was
and what I was doing."

Hendrix said, "And if we did? How's that any
different from the scam you and your client—his girl-friend—were
running on our witness?"

I looked at Hendrix. "We didn't know Dees wasn't
who he claimed to be. You did."

Robinette raised her head. "I will tell you some
things, Cuddy. I am not sure you need to know them, but it seems to
me you have been ahead of us on this." She paused. "My
husband was in DEA, where we met, but I took a leave of absence after
getting pregnant with Jamey. My husband was killed a few years later,
and they let me transfer agencies, be a watcher for the Marshals'
Enforcement Operations. Specifically, witnesses cooperating with the
FBI on Italian-American mob operations."

Hendrix said, a little theatrically, "Tange,
this isn't a good idea."

Robinette never looked away from me. "And
sending two of our people as Mafia muscle after this citizen was?"

She paused again, but Hendrix didn't reply. Then, "As
a woman born in Haiti, I was a good risk. Not likely that anybody
from the mob searching for a cooperating witness would see me
connected to him."

I said, "And Dees, whoever he really is,
cooperated with the government in an organized-crime case."

"In exchange for immunity from prosecution
himself. So we did a relocation, gave him a new identity. Usually we
use small towns, even rural areas, anywhere the hunters—what we
call the other side, 'hunters'—are not likely to search because
there are just too many such places to search."

"With you so far."

"A witness gets accepted into the program, he
buys an all-or-nothing approach. He must give up any contact with the
old 'danger zone' of hometown and people he came from, assuming his
new ID completely. We give him a package of documents—birth
certificate, social security card—"

"College diploma, so long as nobody looks too
closely."

Robinette said, "Even letters of recommendation,
though those are trickier, and we did not use any here."

"How about seed money?"

"Dees had his own."

"And you didn't wonder just a bit about the
source of his stash?"

"Not our concern. That is up to the Bureau and
the U.S. Attorney in the prosecuting jurisdiction."

"Al1 right," I said. "Dees is at
Plymouth Willows and in the program. Why does he leave?"

"I do not know." Robinette counted on her
fingers.

"You get kicked out for committing crimes, using
drugs . . ."

"Not a problem here."

"No, and since we were not about to kick him
out, we would have relocated him should his new ID be compromised."

"Wait a minute. Given that I—and you—might
have contributed to blowing the 'Andrew Dees' cover, you'd have
relocated him?"

"Yes."

"With a new identity?"

"Completely."

"And he would have known that?"

Robinette looked to Hendrix, who said, “Absolutely.
Explained it to him myself."

"When?"

"When he first got relocated here."

"But he didn't turn to you for that after I
spoke with him at the photocopy shop."

No response.

Robinette said, "Boyce'?"

Hendrix shook his head. "No. Tangela called me
about you, and I called Dees, but when he phoned me back after
throwing you out of his shop, he didn't say anything about wanting to
be relocated somewhere else. Dees was nervous, but that's all."

I thought about it. "You monitor a cooperating
witness's bank accounts?"

Hendrix said, "Not as a regular practice."

"Why not?"

"It could alert somebody at the bank that the
customer was in our program."

"But have you checked since you noticed Dees is
gone?"

Hendrix said, "We don't know for sure that he is
gone."

I looked back to Robinette. "Have you checked
with his bank?"

“
Yes," she said. "He spent most of
yesterday afternoon cleaning out his money."

Which meant Dees had waited a day after I'd spoken
with him. "And how about last night?"

Robinette said, "I was at a band recital,
watching Jamey at his school."

"Instead of watching Dees at the complex."

A slight flare of the nostrils. "Yes."

“
So, what do you think? Did Dees just turn rabbit
and run?"

"We think it is possible."

"With my client?"

"Also possible."

"Have you followed up at all?"

Hendrix said, "Followed up?"

"Yes, Boyce. Airlines, charge-card companies,
that kind of thing."

His face told me he didn't like my tone, but all he
said was, "No, we didn't."

I thought about it some more.

Robinette said, "So, Mr. Cuddy, if you find out
anything you think can help us, I would—"

"You don't care what happened to Andrew Dees, do
you?"

She stopped. "What are you talking about?"

Again I tried to speak blind of the Milwaukee
connection. "Dees was relocated from somewhere. You're not going
to relocate a cooperating witness before he or she comes through with
testimony for you, am I right?"

No answer from anybody.

I said, "You don't know whether Dees just
panicked and ran, with or without my client, and you don't really
care. Oh, you'd like to believe it, because then you don't have to
investigate anything, follow up on whether a 'hunter' got to one of
your protected people. That kind of investigation might get noticed
by some criminal defense lawyers, send a little tremor through the
program and maybe the hearts of other folks you'd like to see
cooperate in the future."