Джордж Пелеканос: The Double

Lucas reached for the bottle of beer and took a pull.

“I’m forty-two years old,” said Grace. “I’ve been with my share of men, but never anyone like him. When I wasn’t with him, I was thinking of him. Obsessing is a better word. Preparing for the next time he’d come over, debating what to wear, how to fix my hair, all of that. I wanted to please him. All my planning and preparation, and he didn’t even notice. He’d walk in, point to my outfit, and say, ‘Take that shit off.’ He’d put me right on my back. He’d put me on all fours, sit me on the bathroom sink, stand me up against a wall. I climaxed repeatedly, and every time I did, he laughed. It was like he’d won. For his part, he could only get there if I put him in my mouth. Then he’d get dressed without so much as a word and leave. You’d think I wouldn’t allow myself to be treated that way, but I found myself desperate for him to come back. And also dreading it. Because I was aware what he was doing to me. I ate very little. I drank more than I ever did before. I began to lose weight. I knew that I was just a receptacle to him. I knew it and I didn’t care.”

“You never went to where he lived?” said Lucas, just to say something.

“No. He said he had a housemate he was trying to get rid of, that the atmosphere wouldn’t be right.”

“So you don’t know his address.”

“I don’t.”

“Or where he worked.”

“All he said was that he was in finance.”

“You communicated by cell?”

“Yes, we texted back and forth and sometimes I called him.”

“You still have that number?”

“Yes, I have it.”

“Give it to me.”

Lucas wrote it down. “Did you see a credit card of his? A driver’s license?”

Grace shook her head. “The one time we went out, he paid the tab in cash.”

“So you don’t know if his name is actually Billy Hunter.”

“I can’t be sure,” said Grace. She picked up her glass and stood abruptly. There was sweat beaded on her face. Lucas’s shirt was also damp. “I’m ready for another glass of wine. Would you like another beer?”

“I would.”

“Meet me inside. It’s cooler in there. Bring the file with you, okay?”

She disappeared into her condo. Lucas sat for a few minutes, digesting their conversation, then followed her inside. The volume on the stereo had been turned down very low. She was on a couch set before a glass table, where she had placed a fresh glass of wine and a new bottle of beer. Lucas dropped the file on the table and sat beside her. He noticed that Grace had run a brush through her hair.

“Are you shocked?” she said.

“Not at all,” said Lucas, telling a lie. “How did this all end?”

“I came home one day to find that I’d been burgled.”

“The painting was gone.”

“Yes.”

“Just the painting?”

“Yes.”

“Was your condo broken into?”

“Nothing was broken. He had a key. I suppose he could have made an imprint of mine in putty, like thieves do. Or had one made off an original, then returned it discreetly. I keep an extra in a bowl by the door. ”

“He, meaning Hunter.”

“Of course.”

“You’re certain?”

Grace shrugged. “I haven’t heard from him since the burglary. Stealing that painting was his way of screwing me again, one last time. It’s in character for him, don’t you think?”

“You tried texting or calling him?”

“I did, and I got dead air.”

“He was probably using a burner,” said Lucas.

“What?”

“A disposable cell. Let me ask you something: did you and Hunter ever discuss the value of the painting?”

“We never talked about the painting at all.”

Lucas thought this over. “You said that you now think this was all a setup. That you were a mark. How so?”

“There are additional papers in that file. Take a look.”

Lucas opened the file and withdrew a set of pages paper-clipped together, a series of printed e-mails between Grace and someone named Grant Summers. The earliest dated e-mail, from Summers to Grace, read:

Hello,

I am selling this beautiful, well-maintained forest-green 2003 Mini Cooper S because my brigade will deploy for 14 months to Afghanistan. I’m under enormous time pressure cause I need to sell it fast, that is the reason I sell it so low. It is immaculate condition, non-smoker, well maintained, and hasn’t been involved in accident... I have the title, free and clear, under my name. It is gently used with only 69,320 miles!!

It is still for sale if you are interested, price as stated in the ad: $2,990. The car is in Troy, NY, and in case it gets sold to you I’ll take care of shipping. Let me know if your interest, e-mail me back!!

I’ve attached 90 photos.

Thank you,

Grant Summers

4th Combat Engineer Battalion

United States Marine Corps

One team, one fight

Below the name and battalion designation, the sender had included a replication of the Marine Corps insignia. Lucas felt his eyes narrow.

“I was looking for a Mini Cooper,” said Grace. “My pre-midlife crisis. I could have bought a new one, but I’m a bit of a bargain hunter. I found an ad for one on Craigslist that looked like a great deal. It was the exact color I wanted, too.”

“That’s how they rope you in,” said Lucas. He knew the rest but he allowed her to tell it.

“I e-mailed him back,” said Grace. “I asked if we could speak over the phone, but he returned with a message saying that deploying marines aren’t allowed to use a phone. He suggested we use an authorized third party for the escrow; I think it was Google Checkout.”

“I suppose he took the liberty of opening an account.”

“Right. Said he’d give me a five-day period to inspect and test-drive the car before the escrow account would release my payment to him. In that way, I would be protected... No disappointments, he said. He’d ship it free of charge with the title and two sets of keys. The money would have to be wired via Western Union. I was wary, but it was the car I really wanted at a very good price.”

“Did you do it?”

“I tried. Drove over to my bank, withdrew the cash, and went to the nearest Western Union office. I was all set to wire the money when the lady behind the counter, nice Pakistani woman, talked me out of it. She’d seen this scam worked before. When I came home, I called the FBI and reported the whole thing. The guy on the other end of the line took my name and number but he never called me back. ”

“The Feds don’t have the time or manpower to chase a couple of thousand dollars down a rabbit hole.”

“Is this a common crime?”

“It’s the Nigerian four-one-nine scam,” said Lucas. “So named for that country’s four-one-nine code, after this type of Internet crime. Shame the Nigerians get tarred for the car thing too, but there it is. Why do you think Hunter was connected to this?”

“One night we were talking,” said Grace. “One of those pointless conversations about what we’d do if we hit the lottery. Billy said, ‘You could buy that Mini S you’ve always wanted.’ And then he got a weird look on his face, like he knew he’d messed up. How would he know I had my eyes on a Mini Cooper S? I never told him. But Grant Summers knew, and I had given him my home address for the shipping of the car. Later on it made me think, maybe Billy Hunter and Grant Summers were the same man. That he saw me as an easy mark after the car thing and followed me from here to the Safeway that first night.”

“Did Hunter have a foreign accent?”

“No.”

“Most of the guys who pull these car scams are foreigners. Just by reading this top e-mail, there are several mistakes in the tenses and verbiage. That tells me that English was a second language for Grant Summers.”