William Lashner - Past Due

I put down my cup because it had started to shake atop its saucer. This was big, bigger than I had ever imagined, and it fit perfectly with what Joey had told me, about what Tommy was carrying when he was killed, and the cool way he handled the threat before Joey’s first swing with the bat. And something else, the thing that made my cup shake on the saucer. There was suddenly more than the suitcase at stake. Only Tommy Greeley’s money had gone through Babbage. Where was the rest of it, and was that the reason Tommy was killed? And was that the reason Joey too, twenty years later, was killed? My contingency fee agreement with Mrs. Parma began to glow with a fabulous heat.

“But, as could be expected, Victor, even with all that business, the heroes were having trouble breaking into the organization, the heroes were finding themselves stymied. This was more than a business organization, all the participants were friends, comrades. They had, all of them, made each other rich. And they weren’t talking, not a word. The grand jury was getting nowhere. They couldn’t prove up the drug charges. We would get some of them for tax evasion, yes, but it was looking like only a tax case. Until I brought Babbage into the grand jury room.

“I can’t tell you everything he told me, Victor, or what he told the grand jury, that would be improper, not to mention illegal, but he broke it open, did our Mr. Babbage. His testimony was like the wedge that split everything apart. The indictments are public record, and the results were well publicized in the press. There were two indicted as so-called kingpins, eligible for stiff sentences without parole. One was a fellow called Prod, Cooper Prod. He is still in jail, don’t know when he gets out. The other was Tommy Greeley.”

“The one that got away,” I said, almost pleased that this trophy had eluded Telushkin even though I knew what had really happened to him.

“Yes. I had wanted him especially, with his high living and his haughtiness. You know, once when I went to talk to him, to see what I could see, he laughed at me. He laughed, as if it was inconceivable that someone like me could corner someone like him. And then he leaned over and quietly, in my ear, said ‘You’re not smart enough.’ I wasn’t sure I had caught what he had said, I asked him to repeat it, it was too much to believe that someone could be so arrogant. But he just laughed at me and walked away.”

“What happened to him, do you know?”

“Of course I know.”

I peered at him closely. “What?”

“He ran,” he said. “He took what he could and he ran. But he didn’t get far.”

“How do you know?”

“He was a troubled man dealing with dangerous people. There was a tremendous amount of money involved and he owed as much as he was owed. Not a healthy situation. When someone runs away he always slips up somehow. After a few months, or a few years, his arrogance gets the best of him, he thinks he has won, he has escaped, that his pursuers have lost interest. He will make contact with old friends, with family, he will make a mistake. But Tommy Greeley never did. I spent the rest of my career searching for him, checking the mail to his parents, his girlfriend, keeping tabs on those of his friends released from jail. It became something of an obsession. Call me Ishmael, I suppose.”

“It was Ahab obsessed with the whale,” I said.

He clapped. “So it was. So it was. But there was nothing, nothing. Tommy Greeley wasn’t clever enough or modest enough to pull it off. All that time searching for him was not wasted, it gave me the certainty that I sought, the certainty to conclude that something happened early on, that somehow his run to freedom failed at the start. He got his, along with the rest, only he got it worse. Well now, Victor. Anything else? More tea?”

“No thank you,” I said, standing. “I appreciate your time. One more question. This Babbage, the informer. What kind of sentence did he get?”

“Seven years probation.”

“Sweet.”

“It was a necessary evil, I assure you. He was offered witness protection but he refused it, said he didn’t need it. And he did quite well after everything passed. Apparently there was some money unaccounted for, which he discovered after the case was over. But pursuant to the terms of his cooperation agreement, there was nothing we could do about that. I still don’t know how we could have missed those moneys,” he said, even as his wink let me know that he certainly did, that the man who had studied Babbage’s books with the care of a Rockefeller knew where every penny had been buried, so the money left to be discovered was all part of Telushkin’s deal for his prize witness’s testimony. “He had a nice plastics business later on, did Babbage, recycling, with a big house and a pool in Gladwyne. Was still political, but had been turned by his experience, I suppose. Became a great supporter of Clinton, if you can believe that?”

“I’d like to speak to him.”

“That would be quite difficult, Victor.”

“Excuse me?”

“He drowned.”

“My God.”

“Just a few weeks ago. In his pool. He took a swim every morning, a few dives, a few laps. But I suppose he took one dive too many. They found him floating facedown.”

“Did the police investigate?”

“Ruled it an accident. Apparently he had a heart attack, right in the pool. So it goes. You know, Victor, cracking that case was the highlight of my career, the highlight, actually, of my professional life. I worked on many white-collar cases, tax cases, fraud, but that was the biggest win. And all from a careful examination of the books. I guess I’m not so different from Rockefeller after all.”

“Give or take a billion dollars.”

“Yes, I suppose,” he said, at a loss for a moment before his unctuous smile returned and he gestured me toward the door. “If there is anything else I can help you with, please let me know.”

“Oh I will,” I said, still thinking of Babbage, floating facedown in the water.

“By the way, Victor, one thing you might want to know.” His eyebrows rose and his face took on the expression of self-delight that seemed to be his trademark. “Our Tommy Greeley. Believe it or not, his best friend in college and in law school was not his business partner, that Cooper Prod. It was someone else. We couldn’t link him with any of the wrongdoing, and he was never indicted, but still it is quite an interesting association.”

I looked at him. He wanted me to help him out, to pressure it out of him for some reason, as if that would put us further in league together, but I knew if I waited long enough he would spill, he couldn’t help himself. He smile was expectant for a moment before it turned exasperated and then he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Straczynski. Jackson Straczynski. They were the best of friends. Isn’t that something?”

“Yes,” I said, and it was. I swallowed with surprise at the name, but I tried not to show it.

His hand moved solicitously to my back, like he was pushing me out now that he had told me exactly what he had wanted to tell me, led me exactly where he had wanted me to go. I didn’t mind leaving, but I didn’t like being pushed the way he was pushing me.

At the doorway I stopped, turned around. “Thank you so much for your help.”

“It was nothing. Nothing at all. I was glad to be of service.”

“I suppose he was, wasn’t he?”

“Who?”

“Tommy. You said he got away, never paid the piper. So I suppose maybe he was too smart for you after all.”

His puckish expression dropped for just a moment and what was left was all the arrogance and intolerance that I had heard beneath his jovial voice, and then the smile returned. “Good day, Mr. Carl,” he said, closing the door before I had the chance to turn away.