Deal Breaker, Page 26

  "Who hired you to mail out the magazines?"

  Blackjack placed one chip on red, one chip on odd. He spun the roulette wheel. "You wanna put down a couple of chips?"

  "No. Who hired you?"

  "Well, that's the weird part. I don't know. I got this big package in the mail with very specific instructions. Plus cash. But no name."

  "Any return address?"

  "Nope. Just a postmark."

  "From where?"

  "Right here in Atlantic City. I got it about ten, twelve days ago."

  The roulette wheel stopped. Twenty-two. Black.

  Blackjack said, "Damn."

  "Do you still have the instructions?"

  "Yeah, sure." He opened a drawer and handed him a piece of paper. "Here."

  The letter had been typed:

  Dear Mr. Sanford,

  For the sum of $5,000 (plus expenses) I would like you to perform the following services:

  1. Enclosed find seven envelopes. Two of them should be mailed from the campus mail box at Reston University on Friday. The other three should be mailed from a post office box in their respective towns.

  2. Please mail out the following New Jersey Bell literature to each person on the list at the same time.

  3. Please arrange a phone number in the 201 area code, one that will work on Return Call. This number should be immediately disconnected should anyone call it back or answer it. I would like you to hook up an answering machine with the enclosed tape to that phone. I would then like you to make calls to each of the numbers listed below from that number. On the first two nights--Saturday and Sunday--you will simply call repeatedly, hold the line when they answer, and say nothing until they hang up. On Monday, you will call and say the following: "Enjoy the magazine. Come and get me. I survived." Please make your voice sound female and vague. (As you know, there are phones that can disguise voices and make them sound female.)

  4. Enclosed is a money order for $3,000. Upon completion of this exercise I will contact you personally on or around the ninth of the month and pay off the remaining $2,000 plus expenses.

  My name must remain anonymous. Thank you for understanding.

  Myron looked up. "I assume the New Jersey Bell literature explained Return Call."

  Nod.

  "Who were the seven people?"

  Blackjack shrugged. The dice were rolled yet again. Another snake eyes. The guy had the touch. "I don't remember. Christian was one. Some dean was another. I mailed another from a town called Glen Rock."

  "To a Gary Grady."

  "Yeah, that's the name. I also mailed three from New York."

  "One of those to Junior Horton?"

  "Uh, yeah, I think so. Junior. That rings a bell."

  "And the last one?"

  "Some other place in New Jersey. Near Glen Rock."

  Myron stopped. "Ridgewood?"

  "Yeah. Something-wood anyway. A woman's name. I remember because all the rest were men."

  Myron said, "Carol Culver?"

  He thought a moment. "Yeah. That's it. A name with two C's."

  Myron's shoulders slumped.

  "Hey, buddy, you all right?"

  "Fine," he said softly. "What about the phone calls?"

  "The numbers were on another page. I threw them away when I finished. I called Steele and hung up a few times. By the time I called him back to give him the message calls, the line was disconnected. Guess he'd moved."

  Myron nodded. Christian had moved from the campus to the condo.

  "The guy in New York--Junior--he was never home so I never reached him either. The others all got hang-ups and then the message calls."

  "How many of them used Return Call?"

  "Just two. Christian and the guy from Glen Rock. It wouldn't have worked for the guys in New York anyhoo. Return Call only works for that area code."

  "Have you heard from your client yet?"

  "Nope. And yesterday was the ninth. I tell you, he better not stiff Blackjack Sanford." Another mental pants-hitch. "If he knows what's good for him."

  "Uh-huh. Anything else you can tell me?"

  "About this case? Nope. Hey, you wanna go over to Merv's? They know me over there. I can get us on a good table. Play a little blackjack maybe. Watch the legend in action."

  Tempting, Myron thought. Like having electrolysis performed on his testicles. "Maybe some other time."

  "Yeah, okay. Say, how much you think I should bill Otto for? Like you said, I want to be fair."

  "Oh, I'd bill him for the full amount."

  "The whole ten G's?"

  "Yes. You've been very helpful, Blackjack. Thank you."

  "Yeah, take care. Come by anytime."

  "Oh, one more thing."

  "What's that?"

  Myron said, "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

  Chapter 45

  It was ten-thirty when Myron arrived at Paul Duncan's house. Lights were still on. Myron had not called to make an appointment. He wanted the element of surprise.

  The house was a simple Cape Cod. Nice. Needed a new coat of paint maybe. The front yard had lots of budding flower beds. Myron remembered that Paul liked gardening in his down time. Lot of cops did.

  Paul Duncan answered the door holding a newspaper. A pair of reading glasses were low on his nose. His gray hair was neatly combed. He wore navy-blue Hagar slacks and a twist-a-flex Speidel watch. The casual man from Sears. A television played in the background. An audience applauded wildly. Paul was alone, except for a sleeping golden retriever curled in front of the television as if it were a fire on a snowy night.

  "We need to talk, Paul."

  "Can't this wait until the morning?" His voice was strained. "After Adam's memorial service?"

  Myron shook his head and stepped into the den. The television audience applauded again. Myron glanced at the screen Ed McMahon's Star Search. The spokes-models weren't on, so Myron turned away.

  Paul closed the door. "What's this all about, Myron?"

  A coffee table had National Geographic and TV Guide. Also two books--the latest Robert Ludlum and the King James Bible. Everything was very neat. A portrait of the golden retriever in its younger days hung on the wall. Lots of little porcelain figurines adorned the room. A couple of Rockwell plates too. Hardly a swinging bachelor pad or den of lust.

  "I know about your affair with Carol Culver," Myron said.

  Paul Duncan played stiff-lip. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Then let me try to clarify myself. The affair's been going on for six years. Kathy caught you and Mommy a couple years back. Adam also caught you two on the night he was murdered. Any of this ring a bell?"

  His face went ashen. "How ...?"

  "Carol told me." Myron sat. He picked up the Bible and flipped through it. "Guess you skipped the part about not coveting your neighbor's wife, huh, Paul?"

  "It's not what you think."

  "What's not what I think?"

  "I love Carol. She loves me."

  "That sounds swell, Paul."

  "Adam treated her awfully. He gambled. He whored. He was cold to his family."

  "So why didn't Carol divorce him?"

  "She couldn't. We're both devout Catholics. The Church wouldn't allow it."

  "The Church prefers marital infidelity?"

  "That's not funny."

  "No, it's not."

  "Who are you to judge us? You think any of this was easy?"

  Myron shrugged. "You didn't stop. Not even after Kathy saw you."

  "I love Carol."

  "So you say."

  "Adam Culver was my closest friend. He meant a great deal to me. But when it came to his family, he was a bastard. He provided for them materially, but that's it. Ask Jessica, Myron. She'll tell you. I've always been there. From the time she was a little girl. Who took her to the hospital when she fell off her bike? Me. Who built her swingset? Me. Who drove her down to Duke her freshman year? Me."

  "Did you also dress up as the Easter Bunny?" Myron
asked.

  He shook his head. "You don't understand."

  "Correction: I don't give a shit. There's a difference. Now let's go back to the day Kathy caught you two. Tell me what happened."

  His face became irritated. "You know what happened. She walked in on us."

  "Were you naked?"

  "What?"

  "Were you and Mrs. Culver in the throes of passion?"

  "I won't dignify that with an answer."

  Time to rattle his cage a bit. "What position? Missionary, doggie, what? Were either of you wearing handcuffs or a pig's mask?"

  He moved so he was standing directly over Myron. Everyone thought this was tremendously intimidating, towering over a seated foe. Fact was, Myron could deliver a palm strike to the groin before an ordinary man could even cock his fist.

  "Watch it, son," Paul said.

  "How did Kathy react to seeing you two lovebirds?"

  "There was no reaction. She ran away."

  "Did either of you follow her?"

  "No. Frankly, we were both too shocked."

  "I bet. Did you ever discuss the matter with Kathy?"

  Paul stepped away, circled, sat in the chair next to Myron. "She only mentioned it to me once."

  "When?"

  "A few months later."

  "What happened?"

  He looked away, his eyes darting about, searching for a safe place to land. "This isn't easy to say."

  Myron nodded, feigned sympathy. "Go on."

  "Kathy made a pass at me."

  "Did you catch it?"

  "What?"

  "As in 'catch her pass.'"

  He flashed the irritated face again. "Of course not."

  "You turned her down?"

  "I pretended I didn't know what she was talking about."

  "Did she persist?"

  "Yes. But I kept ignoring her."

  "Bet you were real excited, though. Mother and daughter. Both good-lookers. Your fantasies must have been in overdrive."

  Irritation turned to rage. He finally took off his reading glasses. Very dramatically. "Last warning, pal."

  "Uh-huh. So now tell me about Fred Nickler."

  Piss him off. Quick subject change. Keep him off balance.

  "Who?"

  "For a cop," Myron said, "you're a lousy liar. Nineteen seventy-eight. You let Nickler plea-bargain a kiddie porn charge. I know all about your connection with him, Paul. What I don't know is how he fits into all this."

  "He helped me out from time to time. With cases."

  "Including the disappearance of Kathy Culver?"

  "In a manner of speaking, yes."

  "How?"

  "I guess there's no reason not to tell you." He coughed into a shaking fist. The golden retriever opened an eye but didn't move. "Adam found photographs of Kathy in his attic. He brought them to me in the strictest confidence. On the back of one was the name of a photography studio called Forbidden Fruit. I couldn't find them anywhere. So Adam and I visited Nickler. Nickler told us that Forbidden Fruit was now called Global Globes. He gave me the address."

  "Then you went and bought all the pictures and negatives of Kathy?" A throwaway question. Lucy had already identified Paul Duncan from a photograph.

  "Yes. We wanted to protect Kathy's name. But we also wanted the name of the animal that'd brought Kathy to the studio."

  "Gary Grady."

  "You know about that?"

  "I am," Myron said, "well informed."

  "Well, I checked Grady out completely. He was shady, no question about it. A high school teacher with all those sex lines. He advertised in at least fifty pornographic magazines. I tailed him for a couple of weeks, did a lot of it on my own time. I also had his phone tapped for a while. But in the end we came up with nothing."

  "How did Adam react to that?"

  "Not well. Adam was always coming to me with some new angle on Kathy's case, mostly out of pure desperation. I don't blame him. She was his youngest daughter. The one child he had a decent relationship with. Adam was willing to do anything to find her. He even wanted to kidnap Grady and torture him until he talked. I told him I'd do anything to help, but that we had to keep within the limits of the law. He didn't like hearing that."

  "Tell me about the night Adam died."

  Paul took a deep breath. "He set us up beautifully."

  "I know all about that. What happened after he caught you and Carol in bed?"

  Paul Duncan rubbed his eyes with his palms. "He went berserk. He started calling Carol names. Awful names. We tried to talk to him, but what could we say? After a while he told her he wanted a divorce and ran out."

  "What did you do then?"

  "I went home."

  "Did you stop on the way?"

  "No."

  "Anybody who can confirm you were home?"

  "I live alone."

  "Anybody who can confirm you were home?" Myron repeated.

  "No, dammit. That's why Carol and I didn't tell anyone. We knew how it would look."

  "Not good," Myron agreed.

  "I didn't kill him. I wronged him. I was a terrible friend. But I didn't kill him."

  Myron gave a small shoulder shrug. "You seem like a pretty good candidate, Paul. You lied about the night of his murder. You were having a long-term affair with his wife, a wife who could marry you only if her husband died. He confronted you two in his bed on the night of the murder. His missing daughter was the only person who knew about your secret liaison. Her photograph appears in a magazine published by your source. No, Paul, I'd say it looks pretty goddamn shitty."

  "I had nothing to do with any of that."

  "What did you do with Kathy's pictures?"

  "I gave them to Adam, of course."

  "Did you keep any for yourself? Maybe as a little souvenir?"

  "Of course not!"

  "And you never saw any of the pictures again?"

  "Never."

  "Yet somehow Kathy's picture ended up in a porno mag."

  Paul nodded slowly.

  "A porno mag published by your buddy Fred Nickler."

  Another nod.

  "So now comes the big question, Paul: How did Kathy's picture end up in Nickler's magazine?"

  Using both arms for leverage Paul Duncan stood. He moved to the television and flicked it off. The junior dancers faded away. The dog did not move. Paul studied the blank screen for a while and then said, "It's going to sound crazy."

  "I'm listening."

  "Adam arranged it. He put Kathy's picture in that magazine."

  Myron waited. His spine began to tingle.

  "I don't understand it either," Paul continued. "Nickler called me yesterday. He was all upset, said you were nosing around and realizing something was up. I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he explained it to me. Adam had told Nickler to put that picture in his magazine. You see, Adam had met Nickler when we were trying to find the photographer's studio. So Adam went back to him, pretended he was still working on a case with me. He told Nickler to put Kathy's picture in Gary Grady's ad. He also told him not to say anything if anybody asked about it--except to give out Gary's alias and address."

  "Enough clues," Myron said, "so someone would find Grady."

  "It seems so, yes."

  "Did Nickler tell you why he placed the picture only in Nips?"

  "No. I can call and ask him, if you'd like."

  Myron shook his head. "Not necessary."

  "That's all I know. I can't for the life of me figure out what Adam was doing. Maybe he wanted to set up Grady. Or maybe he just snapped. But the truth is, I have no idea why Adam would put his own daughter's picture in that magazine."

  Myron rose. He had a very good idea why.

  Chapter 46

  Win gazed into the mirror. Despite the fact that the hour was closing in on midnight, his evening was just beginning. He patted his hair, smiled at his reflection, and said, "God, I am handsome."

  Myron grunted.

  "Are you goi
ng to call Jessica?" Win asked.

  "I want to go over it again."

  "Now?"

  "Now."

  "And make my nubile lass wait?"

  "She'll survive."

  "You don't understand. This girl is very special to me."

  "What's her last name?"

  Win thought a moment, shrugged. "Okay, what do you wish to review?"

  "I've told you everything I know," Myron said. "I want to know how you see it."

  Win turned away from the antique mirror. His Central Park West apartment had been a gift from his grandfather. It was huge, worth millions, and decorated like Versailles. Myron was afraid to touch anything. He was sitting in an antique chair with wooden arms digging into his ribs.

  "Do you mind if I break the case down into three separate entities?" Win said.

  "Whatever you want."

  "Fine. Then let us begin. Entity one: Kathy Culver's disappearance. During her senior year of high school, Kathy's personality changed for reasons her mother has now revealed to you. Kathy then sought to hurt said mother with promiscuity. Ergo the lewd photographs, which Kathy mailed to Carol. But Kathy Culver did not see the danger in her actions. She took for granted that she could just end it whenever she so desired. But that was not the case. When she wanted to stop--when she met Christian, it seems--she could not just backslide out."

  Myron nodded.

  "Enter Mr. Junior Horton. He decided to cash in on the new, unsullied Kathy Culver through blackmail. Kathy agreed to pay him in exchange for silence and photographs. On the night in question Mr. Horton called Kathy at her sorority house. She agreed to meet him in the locker room. Once there, she was gang-raped by Junior Horton and several cohorts."

  Win stopped and moved toward a decanter. "Care for a little cognac?"

  "No, thanks."

  He poured some into a snifter. "The rape bent her past the breaking point," he continued. "She snapped. She suddenly craved redemption and justice above all else. So she headed immediately to Dean Gordon's office to report the attack. Dean Gordon had been her employer, and she probably considered him a friend. She told him what had happened to her in the locker room. His reaction was either superfluous or detrimental to her resolve. Take your pick."

  "Probably detrimental," Myron added.

  "Yes, probably detrimental. Either way, Kathy left Dean Gordon's house disheartened. She walked around the campus in a sort of catatonic daze, I imagine. Ricky Lane approached her. He apologized and gave her the panties--that is, evidence of the crime against her. After that--who knows? We slam into a big brick wall. The only thing we know for sure is that the panties were found on top of a waste bin several days later. Are there any questions so far?"