Requiem for Moses (6 page)

It was there in the kitchen he made his first move.

With both arms wrapped around her from behind, he cupped her breasts with his hands. He was careful not to bruise them in the slightest. From the costume that had barely covered her earlier, he knew her breasts were perfect firm mounds. The Wonder Bra would be redundant.

She froze.

“What’s goin’ on here?” he said with a touch of impatience. “You’ve been coming on to me all day long. And you pick now to climb in the freezer!”

“Sorry, Jake. But let’s take it slow … okay?”

“Well, pardon me—I thought we were. Okay, make your coffee.” He returned to the living room and sat on the couch. He was not nearly as happy as he had been.

She brought in the coffee. Plainly, she was skittish and apprehensive.

She asked about Susan Batson and her chances. Susan was hired, he said sullenly. She asked more questions. He was tired of her questions, tired of answering them. The situation was deteriorating.

Suddenly, she seemed to reach a decision. She rose and crossed the room to him. She took his hand and wordlessly led him into the bedroom. In a few moves, she removed her clothing and began helping him with his.

“For a broad who wanted to go slow, you sure are in a hurry.” He wasn’t complaining.

“Let’s not talk,” she whispered.

They fell into bed. He attempted foreplay, but she pushed his hand aside and guided him into her. She did have a few erotic moves. His orgasm came quickly and in seconds was complete.

No sooner was he finished than she left the bed and hurried into the bathroom, whence came the unmistakable sounds of vomiting.

It was the ultimate turnoff. He dressed hurriedly and, without bothering to check on her well-being—physical or mental—departed.

He was at Virago early the next morning. Too early; he’d had far too much to drink after he got home. But there were things that needed doing, and he was the only one capable of making these decisions.

He was unsure what to make of that fiasco with Judy last night. There was no doubt she would add an unprecedented touch of class to the club. But he now had serious doubts about her mistress role.

Having learned, or so he thought, from his experience with Margie, he had never married. But if he hadn’t had a limitless supply of condoms, he could easily have become known as the latter-day Father of our Country.

Still, he had been completely fooled by Judy. The way she danced, the way she looked, the way she acted—he might even, in time, have considered marriage.

But now—well that was out of the question. Hell, he doubted that he’d ever again even attempt sex with her.

Such were his thoughts when Joe Blinstraub knocked and entered the office. He held out a packet that had been hand-delivered for Cameron. It contained a videocassette and an envelope. Taped to the cassette was a typed note that read, “Play this first.”

Cameron, puzzled, handed the cassette to Blinstraub, who inserted it into the VCR.

The furrows in Cameron’s forehead deepened momentarily, as a few blurry lines appeared on the screen. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened as the blurred lines cleared to capture last night’s romp in Judy’s bed. With no lead-in to what had actually taken place, it looked for all the world as if he had raped the girl.

In a rage, he ripped open the envelope and read the enclosure:

Jake:

You never looked better.

A couple of things you ought to know: One, the young lady you were with is not Judy Young. She is Judith Green, my daughter. And two, Young is a small pun on my part. Actually, she is fifteen, not eighteen.

Jake, all this comes down to statutory rape. With more than enough evidence.

But why should I threaten you? Especially when we are about to merge the ownership of Virago—and all future Viragos.

What are partners for, anyway?

Your new partner,

Moe

P.S. My lawyer will be calling on your lawyer.

Cameron crumpled the letter and slam-dunked it in the wastebasket. “Have you figured it out yet, Joe?”

Blinstraub shook his head.

“Judy Young, our star for the day, is really Judith Green.”

Blinstraub’s mouth dropped open. After a few moments, he shook his head. “Wait—you didn’t really—!”

“Damn it, Joe, I
laid her
, I didn’t rape her!”

“Okay, okay—”

“You remember her age on the résumé?”

“Eighteen, wasn’t it?”

“Right: eighteen. And guess what? Guess how old she really is.”

“Uh … not fifteen!”

“Right again, Joe. And that’s statutory. They’ve got the tape. And, in exchange for letting Green into our organization, he’ll sit on the evidence.”

“Blackmail!”

Cameron, teeth gritted, nodded.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“You’re a lawyer. Anything come to mind?”

Blinstraub, eyes closed, shook his head. “No.”

“Better get ready, Joe. Green’s attorney will be calling—today, I’ll bet.”

“And the girl—Judy Young—uh, Green—what about her?”

“She gave quite a performance. If you knew all that went on last night, you’d figure that she was just a nervous virgin. I’m tellin’ you, Joe, it wasn’t even close to rape. But damned if she didn’t make it look like rape. Oh, yeah, quite a performance. But her final curtain. I don’t think we’ll be seeing her again.”

THE PRESENT

“And so we haven’t,” Cameron concluded.

“Incredible,” Father Koesler said. “He used his own daughter to blackmail you into making him a partner. That’s really incredible.”

“The more you think about it, the more incredible it is. I paid off the loan nineteen years ago. That’s when Moe decided he wanted to be a part of my business. That’s when I decided he’d have to accept me as a partner in his enterprises or it was no deal.

“God knows when Moe decided on blackmail. But at the time he wanted in, his kid was—what … two? That means he waited around thirteen years so he could screw me with his own daughter. What a mind! He could make that Italian guy … Machiavelli … look like Forrest Gump!

“Even then, I’m not sure he could’ve pulled it off except that I was asleep at the switch. I should’ve known better. What would a talent like Judy be doing in a topless place? At least I should’ve checked it out. On top of that, she’s got a lot of her mother’s features.”

Cameron, with a benevolent smile, looked directly into the priest’s eyes. “That give you any material for your sermon?”

“Not hardly.” Koesler almost laughed. The enormity of Green’s duplicity ruled that out.

“But”—Koesler looked puzzled—“you show no anger. You don’t seem to be holding any sort of grudge. How come?”

Cameron shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, I was plenty steamed when it all happened. Even now that he’s dead I can’t forget all the crap that he dumped in my life. But there’s one final thing ….” He grinned as if he were having the last laugh. “Three weeks ago, he announced that he was going to get together with the rest of the shareholders—to buy me out. I think he could’ve done it, too.

“So if I seem happy, I am: The son-of-a-bitch couldn’t have picked a better time to die.” He grinned again, sardonically. “I guess the only reason I’m here is to make sure they plant him.”

Koesler checked his everpresent watch. It hadn’t taken Cameron as long as it had seemed to tell his tale. As the priest looked around, he spied Mrs. Green—she who preferred being called Margie. Thanks to Cameron’s tale, Koesler saw her now in an entirely different light.

She was still surrounded by friends and well-wishers. And she still did not seem in the least a grieving widow. Koesler wondered what her story might be if she were to unburden herself à la Cameron.

“I wish I could break in on Mrs. Green,” Koesler said. “Thanks for your help and all, Mr. Cameron, but Mrs. Green promised me some—I trust—useful background I can use for the eulogy—brief though it may be.”

“I think,” Cameron said, “that you’re going to get some more feedback from that couple over there who are eyeing us. I know at least part of the woman’s relationship with Moe. But, unless I’m mistaken, you won’t be able to use her stuff either. Now, pardon me while I slip outside. I really need a smoke.”

Cameron turned and headed for the door.

Koesler reflected that it was a lucky thing that Green had died of natural causes. If it had been murder, Jake Cameron would make a prime suspect.

Revenge would be an obvious motive for all the meddling the doctor had done in Cameron’s life and career. An even stronger motive would be Green’s latest threat to cut Cameron completely out of the business he had built from scratch. To shatter Cameron’s dream come true. Driven to this point, Cameron probably would stop at nothing to prevent Green from stripping the dream away.

But, for now, the couple that Cameron had pointed out were, indeed, approaching, and purposefully.

Koesler prayed they would have something reasonably positive to say about Dr. Green.

Chapter Five

They were a handsome young couple, he tall and rugged, with piercing blue eyes and thick dark blond hair; she with brilliant red hair and a face and figure of classic beauty. They were headed directly for Koesler. There was no point in trying to move away. Besides, despite Cameron’s prediction, they might just have a reminiscence or two he could use.

“You’re the pastor here, Father?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

“And you’re going to speak about Dr. Green?”

“Right again … at least that’s the plan.” During the past few minutes, he had been busy making resolutions never to let himself get into a jam like this again. All the while he knew such panic resolutions were not worth the paper they were not written on.

“Well,” the young woman said, “I’m Claire McNern and this is my fiancé, Stan Lacki.”

Koesler had known a Lacki in the seminary. Put a couple of curlicues on a couple of the letters and Lacki is pronounced a very Polish
Wonski.
An Irish girl marrying a Polish boy. Nice.

“We saw you talking to Jake Cameron. He’s a partner of Dr. Green and you were talking so seriously, we figured that you were probably talking about the doctor.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, Father,” she said, “I don’t know what Jake was telling you. There were rumors about Jake and the doctor, but I don’t know how true they are.”

“You have some connection with the club? Virago?”

“I used to dance there.” She blushed.

You don’t find that much anymore. Blushing, Koesler feared, had become somewhat old-fashioned. Personally, he liked it.

“You see,” she said without further preamble, “like I said, Stan and I are getting married. At least we plan to. But we’ve got some problems. A couple of big ones. It’s like this, Father: Stan here works in a service station. He doesn’t just pump gas; he’s a terrific mechanic. And I wait tables at Carl’s Chop House.”

Ah
, thought Koesler,
she left showbiz. I wonder why. But this is beginning to sound like a problem I could better handle in the rectory. It’s certainly not getting me more prepared to say anything about the deceased.

“Excuse me, Father,” she continued. “I’m really nervous. This is kind of a personal problem. Stan and I really need to find somebody who’s willing to take the time with us and listen. And, while you were talking with Jake, Stan here said, ‘You know, Claire, that priest seems awful patient. He seems real interested in what Cameron is telling him. Maybe we can talk to him.’”

That did it. These people really wanted—needed—to talk. Koesler could not find it within himself to turn them away. Even if they didn’t tell him anything about Moe Green; if worst came to worst he could always go generic.

“Well, see, Father …”

She would tell the story. But Stan was leaning in close. His very nearness would join him to the narration.

“This happened about two years ago. I was auditioning for a job as a dancer at Virago. I was nervous as hell—oh, excuse me, Father.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been that nervous.”
If I had any sense,
Koesler thought,
I’d be that scared now.

“Did you ever try out for something,” she asked, “and you were real confident until you got a look at what the other contestants could do? And then you knew you were way out of your league? Well, that’s what happened to me at Virago a couple of years ago.

“I was second last of eighteen girls. All the other girls had competed before. So they were all winners already. They’d won auditions before. So they were the cream of the crop. I got there ‘cause a friend of mine was a friend of one of the big shots at Virago.

“When I saw what these kids could do, I knew I shouldn’t have even been there. But when my turn finally came, I gave it my best shot.”

THE PAST

Dr. Moses Green chuckled. “Where in the world did you find
her?
”

Jake Cameron was sore, and he sounded it. “Joe Blinstraub owed a favor. The only thing we had to agree to was to include her in the audition.”

Since becoming a partner, Green had assumed an active role at Virago, much to Cameron’s exasperation and distress. Whenever an audition was scheduled, Green made every effort to attend. Only rarely did he allow his medical practice to interfere.

“Going to take her on, Jake?” Green chortled.

Cameron merely snorted.

Then Green leaned forward. Something had occurred to him. After several moments of reflection, he drew his chair closer to Cameron’s. Competing against the music, the doctor spoke loudly into Cameron’s ear. “Take her on, Jake.”

Cameron turned to him. “You crazy?”

“Not often, but this time yes. She’ll be lucky if she gets off that stage in one piece. A little bad luck in that routine and she could hurt herself.”

The suggestion didn’t make any sense at all. But, in Cameron’s experience, the doctor usually got what he wanted.

“Jake,” Green said, still speaking over the music, “if I’m not mistaken, you’re planning a big finale à la Las Vegas, with all the dancers, at the end of each evening’s major set.”