To Catch a Spy (11 page)

Grant got up, shook Gunther’s hand, and looked at me as he reached for the door.

“Call my number any time,” he said. “Say you’re Sam Gronik of RKO. Find George Hall, Peters. A lot of lives may depend on it.”

And he was gone.

Gunther and I looked at each other for a few seconds.

“I shall continue the search for George Hall,” he said, climbing down from his chair.

“I’ll follow up on the cards in Volkman’s pocket and get a photograph of him,” I said. “I’ll call you at Mrs. Plaut’s when I have something.”

CHAPTER

8

I turned my chair and looked out of the open window toward the Pacific Ocean. I couldn’t see the ocean from my window, just the tops of buildings. Through a space between two other office buildings I could see traffic on Arapahoe Street. I was counting cars when my door opened and Violet came in.

Violet was trim, young, dark, and pretty, which was why Shelly had hired her. She was also smart.

“He wants to see you,” she said.

“Shelly?”

She nodded.

“Tell him to come in.”

“He’s hiding. From that big guy whose tooth he pulled,” she explained.

“Where is he?”

“Across the street at Tony’s,” she said. “He told me to close up and go home. So I’m closing up and going home.”

“He really pull the wrong tooth?” I asked.

“You’re asking me? I’d say it’s six to four he did,” said Violet.

I went over to Tony’s, which was right across Hoover and about three doors to the left. Tony’s has a couple of neon signs in the darkened window, one for Falstaff beer and the other for Gobel beer. The Falstaff sign had a flickering “r” that had been threatening for years to give up and turn the place into the Falstaff “Bee.”

It was still early, so only the regulars and a handful of soldiers and sailors in uniform with nowhere else to go were at the small bar or talking at one of the tables. Tony’s, which was owned by the Philoplis brothers—neither of whom was named Tony—served a good burger. Since I had given Mountain my last taco as a peace offering, I paused at the bar and ordered a burger and a beer while I looked around for Shelly.

I couldn’t remember which Philopolis brother was Anton and which was Constantine. They didn’t look much alike. One was tall and skinny with a sour face. The other was average height with some heft to him and a weary bartender smile that said he’d heard it all and expected to hear it again.

“Looking for the dentist?” asked the tall skinny one behind the bar.

“Yeah.”

“Said you’d be here. All the way back in the last booth. I’ll bring your burger and brew.”

I headed for the back of Tony’s and found Shelly scrunched up in the last booth on the right. He was wearing sunglasses and took them off when I sat down.

“It’s me,” I said.

“Thank God. He’s going to kill me, Toby. You’ve got to do something.” He cowered back into the corner of his side of the booth.

“Advice first,” I said. “Take off the sunglasses. They’re a lousy disguise and you’re blind wearing them.”

He squinted at me and in the general direction of the door to Tony’s. Then he reached into his pocket, took out his smudge-lensed regular glasses, and put them on.

“He tried to kill me,” Shelly said, reaching for the half-full glass of beer in front of him. “Look.”

Shelly pulled down his collar. I didn’t see anything but a frayed shirt.

“What?”

“The marks. He tried to strangle me.”

“If he tried, you’d be dead,” I said.

“I managed to escape. He was still woozy from the gas or I would be a dead man. If I die, Toby, I want you to have everything. No, my sister should have everything. She’s in Duluth. Violet can give you her address. But Mildred gets nothing. Promise me.”

“That Mildred gets nothing or your sister gets all your rusting tools and the dental chair?”

“Both.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Shelly wasn’t looking at me during all this. His eyes were fixed on the door.

“Talk to Jeremy,” he said. “Maybe Jeremy can reason with him. Or maybe I should just pack a bag and move.”

“To Duluth?”

“San Diego,” Shelly said. “Change my name and start a new practice. I’ve got a cousin in San Diego.”

“You pulled the wrong tooth, Shel?”

He shrugged and looked at me.

“I could have sworn,” he said. “It was big and yellow and right where he said the pain was. We all make mistakes.”

“It’s best not to make them with four-hundred-pound wrestlers with a bad temper,” I said.

“I don’t need Chinese sayings,” he said. “I need protection. You owe me, Toby.”

The skinny Philopolis brother brought my beer and burger, and Shelly said he’d like a burger too. Skinny Philopolis nodded and moved away.

“You want to hire me to protect you from Mountain?”

“Well, I was thinking more like you’d do it as an act of friendship,” he said, leaning toward me and twitching his nose to keep his glasses from slipping off.

“How do I stop him?” I asked.

“You’re the professional,” Shelly said with a touch of exasperation. “Reason with him. Tell him I’m suffering from a rare disease, that I’m dying and my mind is going. Shoot him.”

“I’ll ask Jeremy to talk to him,” I said.

“You think he knows where I live?”

Shelly had lived in a hotel since his wife Mildred had thrown him out. He was waiting for a divorce. Maybe his mind was going.

“I don’t see how he can,” I said.

“Maybe he tortured Violet, made her tell,” he said, pushing back his eyeglasses and blinking at me through thick lenses.”

“Violet is fine. She can take care of herself. She wouldn’t turn you over.”

“You think her husband Rocky will kill me when he gets back from the war? I mean I only touched her once and that was …”

“Everyone is not trying to kill you, Shel,” I said. “Mountain probably doesn’t even want to kill you. Maybe he just wants his tooth back.”

Shelly fumbled in his pocket and came up with the tooth. It was big and clean. He handed it to me.

“Give it back to him. Tell him he can have free dental care for the rest of his life.”

“I don’t think he’ll take you up on that one,” I said, pocketing the tooth.

“What did I do to deserve this?” he moaned.

I could have given him a long list, but I just ate my burger and drank my beer.

Ten minutes later, I left Shelly in the booth, eating his burger and feeling sorry for himself. I promised to talk to Jeremy and give Shelly a call later.

“I’ll owe you, Toby,” he had said as I got up to leave.

“You can pay me in cash,” I said. When he opened his mouth to protest, I said, “This one is on the house. You pay for the beer and burger.”

I went back across the street to the Farraday and took the elevator up to the seventh floor. People were coming out of offices, the workday over. Some were going down the stairs. Others were waiting for the elevator. The Farraday lobby echoed with talk and footsteps. When the elevator finally hit the seventh floor and opened, Jeremy was standing there with Natasha in his big arms. His daughter smiled at me. She could walk now, but just barely. Her favorite position was in her father’s or mother’s arms.

“We’re going for a walk,” he said.

Natasha reached out a hand to me and I touched it. Jeremy is huge, bald, and only beautiful when you get to know him. His wife, Alice, bore a strong resemblance to Marie Dressier. Natasha, on the other hand, was a striking, curly-haired kid with a huge smile.

“I was looking for you,” I said.

He got in and I hit the button as he closed the elevator doors. The elevator made its usual little jerk and then started slowly downward.

“William Gorman,” he said as Natasha became serious and poked her father’s nose.

“Who?” I asked.

“Mountain Gorman,” he said. “He came to see me after Dr. Minck removed the tooth. I had warned William against Dr. Minck, but he did not heed my advice. I attempted to reason with him, told him that a single tooth was meaningless and that I would gladly have one of my own removed to show him my sympathy However, his bad tooth still hurts. He wants it out.”

“He doesn’t want Shelly to do it, does he?”

“He insists, in fact,” said Jeremy. “I attempted to dissuade him, but to no avail.”

Natasha squeezed her father’s nose. He didn’t seem to notice.

“William’s reasoning is that Dr. Minck wouldn’t dare make another error.”

I couldn’t imagine Shelly holding his hand steady enough to go back into Mountain’s mouth with the pliers, but other than moving to San Diego and changing his name, he had little choice.

“Can you reach William?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Have him in Shelly’s office at nine tomorrow morning,” I said as the elevator moved jerkily downward.

“I can do that,” he said. “The war is coming to a close, Toby.”

“Looks that way,” I said.

“We’ll have to invade Japan,” he said sadly while Natasha pulled at his left cheek. “Many people will die.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I shut up as the elevator came to a stop on the ground floor and Jeremy opened the door.

“One tooth, whether it’s yours, mine or William’s, carries little meaning,” he said. “I think I’ll write a poem about that.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” I said, grinning at Natasha.

My grin frightened most kids, but not Natasha. She gave me a wave and I hurried across the lobby and through the Farraday door, ignoring the voice of Juanita somewhere on the stairs behind me. I was having trouble dealing with the present, had never done well facing the past, and had no interest in knowing the future.

Shelly was in the same booth, his sunglasses back on, still nursing a beer. I sat again.

“Who?” he said with a start.

“Me again, Shel. Will you take those things off?”

He took the sunglasses off again and put his eyeglasses on. They were even more smudged than they had been before.

“Is he out there?” he asked, peering toward the door.

“No, Shel,” I said. “Jeremy’s taken care of it. Tomorrow morning at nine, Mountain will be in your office. He wants you to take out the right tooth. He will not kill you. He won’t even hurt you. He may even pay you.”

Shelly looked terrified.

“I can’t go back in that mouth,” he said. “It’s a trick. As soon as I put my fingers in there, he’ll bite them off and my career is over. I’ll have to wear white gloves filled with cotton and people will think I’m weird.”

“How could anyone think you’re weird, Sheldon?” I asked. “Tomorrow at nine. Be there. Do it right.”

“My hands will shake,” he said, holding out his hands to show they were already shaking.

“Take something to steady them,” I said.

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight,” he said, moving his head slowly from side to side.

“Small price to pay,” I said.

“I guess,” he said.

I left him there and made a decision. It was still light. I had planned to wait till dark, but it didn’t make much difference. If the police were watching Volkman’s apartment, they’d be there all day and all night. I didn’t think the police had the time or manpower to watch a dead man’s apartment twenty-four hours a day or even a few hours a day. And I doubted if the people who had arranged for me to get caught in the apartment with Volkman’s body were watching the place.

I got in my car and headed for Volkman’s. The only reason I spotted the Buick following me was that I pulled into a Texaco station on Pico for gas and glanced at my rearview mirror just as the Buick came to a stop at the curb.

I stayed in the car while the attendant filled the tank. I adjusted my mirror so I could see the Buick. There were two people inside it. I couldn’t see them clearly. They were leaning back into the early evening shadow.

When I pulled out of the gas station, I drove slowly, turning left at the first corner, away from the direction I had been going in. I kept going slowly, letting the Buick keep up with me half a block back. I couldn’t outrun the Buick, and I didn’t want to let the driver know I’d spotted him if I could help it.

I made another slow left, leaving the Buick out of sight for a few seconds. I hit the gas pedal and looked around. I saw a narrow driveway on my right, checked my rearview mirror, and skidded into the driveway. There was a small garage on my right. I pulled onto the lawn behind it so that my car couldn’t be seen from the street. I got out, climbed over a fence into the backyard of the house next door, and crouched behind some bushes with little red berries.

The Buick came slowly down the street. I watched as whoever was inside the car checked out the houses and driveways. When the car passed the house, I moved around the bushes and watched it get to the corner and stop. The two people were trying to decide which way to turn. They went left. They might come back. I turned to go back to my car and found myself facing a bulky old man wearing a USC sweatshirt and a baseball cap.

“What the hell are you doin’?” he demanded.

“Inspection,” I said. “Los Angeles County Insect and Vermin Control Department. Report of Sacker weevils in this neighborhood.”

“Sacker weevils?” he asked with a look that said I neither resembled a government inspector nor that he believed in Sacker weevils any more than he believed in the tooth fairy, who had long before absconded with any teeth the man had once possessed. He had, however, a fine set of dentures.

“New, worked their way up from Mexico,” I explained, leaning over to examine the bush I was standing next to.

“Bugs are always coming up from Mexico and Texas,” he said. “I use the Flit can, spray the hell out of everything, but you got to stay ahead of the goddamn bugs.”

“I agree,” I said, standing. “Well, your yard looks clear.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll get out the Flit.”

“Stay ahead of them,” I said, moving toward the fence.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Checking the neighbors,” I said. “Every one, up and down the block.”

“What do they look like?” he asked.

“Your neighbors?”

“The damn bugs,” he snapped.