Stuart Woods - Choke

“No, more; all the way open.”

Tommy let her see the automatic in the shoulder holster.

“Take it out with your left thumb and forefinger,” she said.

Tommy lifted the pistol from his holster and held it up as if he had a dead rat by the tail.

“Drop it in the wastebasket by the desk,” she commanded.

Tommy turned slightly and let go of the pistol, wincing at the clang.

“Put your palms flat on the desk and assume the position.”

Tommy did so and thought the frisking was very professional.

“Now, stand up, move to your right, and sit in the straight chair.”

Tommy did as he was told.

“Put your feet on the desktop and clasp your hands behind your head.”

Tommy complied.

“Comfy?” she asked.

“Just fine,” Tommy said.

She pulled another chair around until it faced him and sat down, finally letting the pistol rest in her lap. “Before you get any ideas about jumping me, you should know that I fired expert with this weapon on the LAPD range. Got that?”

Tommy nodded. “You on the job?”

“I’ll ask the questions. Now explain yourself.”

“My name’s Tommy Sculley; I’m a detective on the Key West force, and I’m investigating the murder of Barry Carman.”

“Barry was killed near Miami; the Dade County Sheriff’s Office is the investigating authority. Lie to me again and I’ll put one in your knee.”

“I’m not lying. Barry was in Key West the day before he died; he came to see me.”

“About what?”

“Rocco Marinello.”

“What did he tell you about Marinello?”

“That he disappeared from L.A. a few years back and that somebody had hired him-Barry-to find Marinello.”

“What did Barry want from you?”

“He’d had a tip that a guy in Key West might be Marinello, and he wanted to know what I knew about the guy.”

“Who was the guy?”

“Before we get to that, it’s your turn to answer some questions.”

“I’m the one with the gun,” she said. “I ask, you answer.”

“Come on, lady, you’re not going to shoot me in cold blood. Now I’m cooperating with you, and I want some cooperation back.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Are you a cop?”

“I used to be.”

“What’s your name?”

“Rita Cortez.”

“What are you doing here at three o’clock in the morning?”

“Your turn; what are you doing here?”

“Trying to find out who hired Barry to find Marinello.”

“Why?”

“Your turn. What are you doing here at three A.M.?”

She sighed. “I came to look for some papers. It’s the only time of day I can come here without mixing it up with Barry’s wife. Excuse me, widow.”

“How’d you get in?”

“I have a key; I worked for Barry. In fact, we were supposed to be partners. It was the partnership papers I was looking for.”

“You had an agreement with Barry, and you don’t have a copy of the contract?”

“I trusted Barry; he said he’d written everything down, in case anything happened to him.”

“Why don’t you want to see his widow?”

“He told her about our agreement; she’ll probably look for the papers so she can destroy them before anyone else sees them.”

“Why would she do that? So she can inherit all this?” He waved an arm at the contents of the room.

“There’s some money in the bank, and there’s the business. She knows I could keep it going.”

“Did you and Barry have a little thing going, Rita?”

She nodded. “He had already left her; the divorce was in the works. Your turn again: Why do you want to know who hired Barry to find Marinello?”

“I think there may be a Key West connection to Barry’s murder. I want to find out what he reported back to his client, what he found out in Key West.” This was less than the whole truth, but he had to hang on to some of his cards.

“You think maybe Marinello’s in Key West and that he murdered Barry?”

Tommy shook his head. “The guy Barry thought might be Marinello is dead. He was killed right before Barry arrived in town.”

“Shit!” she said.

“Huh?”

“Finding Marinello would have been a big plum for Barry; the money would have gotten us through the divorce settlement.”

Tommy nodded. “Tough break. Listen, is there a bar open this late? Can I buy you a drink?”

Rita stood up and laid the pistol on her chair. “I’ll buy you one,” she said. She went to Carman’s desk, opened a bottom drawer, and extracted a bottle of Wild Turkey and two glasses. “Barry didn’t drink much. He kept this in the hope that one day, some gorgeous blonde would walk in here in tears and he could whip out a bottle, like Sam Spade, and offer her a drink.” She poured two healthy shots and handed him one.

“Better days,” Tommy said, raising his glass.

She raised hers and took a sip, then returned to her chair. “Tell me something, Tommy,” she said.

“Anything.”

“If Marinello was this guy in Key West, and he died, the money didn’t die with him, did it?”

“I guess not.”

“Where would it go, do you think?”

“The guy had a wife.”

“Then the wife’s got the money?”

“Depends on what kind of planner Marinello was.”

“Oh, Marinello was a big-time planner, believe me. He couldn’t have walked with all that money without being a very good planner.”

“Then the wife might have the money. If she’s the wife.”

“What do you mean, ‘If she’s the wife’?”

“I’ve no way of knowing for sure that my murder victim in Key West was Marinello.”

“He was murdered?”

“That’s right.”

She got up and poured them both another drink. “Tommy, you and I have a lot of talking to do,” she said.

Tommy watched Rita Cortez as she talked, and he liked what he saw. She was short, like himself. And like Rosie. He didn’t have anything in mind, he just appreciated her neat body, her short, dark hair, and the way she seemed to trust him so soon after their bad introduction.

“I only spent a couple of years as a street cop,” she said. “The rest of the time I was in Records, and I was good at it. Barry was always coming in wanting somebody’s sheet or something, and I always delivered for him in a hurry. Then, when he was having some problems with the captain of the precinct, he decided to put his papers in and go private. He took me to lunch and laid it all out, and it sounded pretty good. I was bored, so when he asked me to come to work with him I took the chance. Worked out well, too. Barry had a lot of friends on the force and down at the courthouse, so he got a lot of referrals. He was a good investigator and he produced for his clients, so we did okay.” She got up, went to a file cabinet, and starting flipping through it. “This Marinello thing was our first shot at some really good money, though. Barry was offered a hundred grand to turn him up.”

“That’s good money, all right,” Tommy said. “Who hired him?”

Rita stopped flipping through the files and looked at him. “Later, maybe,” she said, then went back to the files.

Maybe she didn’t trust him so much after all. “Any luck in the files?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“Did Barry have a safe?”

She nodded. “Right-hand side of the desk, what looks like two drawers is a door. He never gave me the combination.”

Tommy opened the door and looked at the safe. “Too good for me.” He began opening desk drawers, feeling the edges and bottoms.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll bet he wrote down the combination somewhere. Most people don’t trust themselves to remember.” He continued searching the desk.