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I said, "Hi, Marty. Nice to meet you," and the two of us shook hands.
Marty gave Reba a quick visual appraisal. "You're none the worse for wear. When'd you get back?"
"Monday. Kinsey drove down and brought me back. The whole experience was an education… in what, I don't know."
"I'll bet."
"I hear you're in the new offices. Nice to be so close. Dale's was always your favorite."
Marty smiled. "I've only been coming in the past fourteen years. I could be part owner with all the money I've spent."
Reba took out a cigarette and Marty picked up her Dunhill and extended a light. Reba tucked a strand of hair behind one ear as she bent to the flame, her hand resting casually on his. She inhaled, her eyes closing briefly. Smoking was like prayer, something you approached with reverence. "Beck says the offices are awesome."
"Pretty slick," he said.
"Coming from you, that's high praise. How about a tour? Beck said he'd show me around, but he's in Panama."
"A tour? Sure, why not? Give me a call and we'll set it up."
"How about tonight? As long as we're down here, it would be a hoot." He hesitated. "I could do that, I guess. I need to pick up my briefcase anyway and clean off my desk."
"You're cleaning your desk on a Friday night? That's devotion." "Beck's new dictum – no files or papers on any of the surfaces overnight. Place looks like a showroom. I'm mostly playing catch-up, taking care of stuff I've let slide. I'll probably work tomorrow, too."
"The guy's a workaholic," she said to me as an aside and then turned back to him. "Kinsey's a PI… a pri-vate de-tec-tive," she said, separating each syllable for emphasis. She turned to me. "You have a business card on you?"
"Let me look," I said. I fumbled in my shoulder bag until I found my wallet, where I kept a stash of cards. Reba had her hand out so I passed one to her and she handed it on to Marty, who studied it, pretending it mattered when he couldn't have cared less.
He tucked it in his shirt pocket. "Guess I better watch my backside." Reba smiled. "That is so so true. You have no idea." He shook a cigarette from the pack, placing it directly between his lips. Smoking didn't seem like a good idea as he was already wheezing. Reba said, "Allow me," as she picked up her Dunhill, flicked it, and offered him a light. "Such service."
"You bet. Tit for tat," she said. She propped her chin on one hand. "Aren't you curious what she's doing here?"
Marty looked from Reba to me. "A drug bust?"
"Don't be dumb," she said, giving him a smack on the arm. She leaned forward flirtatiously and murmured, "She's part of a task force – federal and local dicks – looking into Beck's finances. All very hush-hush. Promise you won't tell." She put a finger to her lips and I could feel myself blanch. I couldn't believe she'd laid it out like that, without a word to me. Not that I'd have agreed. I checked his reaction.
His smile was tentative as he waited for the punch line. "No, seriously."
"Seriously," she said. I could see she enjoyed doling it out to him bit by bit.
"I don't get it."
"What's to get? I'm telling you the truth."
"Why tell me?"
"Fair warning. I like you. You're right in the line of fire."
He must have been one of those men who operated with his body thermostat cranked up into the red zone because his face now bore a sheen of perspiration. Without seeming to be aware of it, he took the flap of his tie and blotted the beads of sweat from his cheek. "What do you mean, I'm right in the line of fire? How do you figure that?"
"Well, A: You know what he's been up to, and B: Beck won't go down for this any more than he'd accept blame for the missing three hundred and fifty thou."
"I thought you volunteered."
"Stupnagel that I am, I made it easy for him. I'd like to think you're smarter than me, but maybe not."
"He can't do anything to me. I'm covered."
"You really think so? All he has to do is point. You've got your fingerprints on everything. You're the one who set up the accounts. Same with the offshore banks and the IBC."
"Exactly. I've got leverage on him. I'm the last guy on earth he ought to fuck with."
"I don't know," she said, with skepticism. "You've been with him a long time…"
"Ten years."
"Right. Which means you know a lot more than I do."
"So?"
"So if he stuck it to me, he can stick it to you as well. Believe me, the trap's there. You just can't see it at this point any more than I saw what he was doing to me until it was too late."
"I got no beef with Beck. The guy takes good care of me. Ten years, you know how much money I've managed to sock away? I could retire anytime I want, walk out tomorrow and still be living like a king."
"It may feel cushy, but it's a trap all the same."
Marty was shaking his head. "No. Uhn-uhn. I'm not buying it."
"What if they lean on you?"
"They, who?"
"The feds. What do you think I just got done telling you. The FBI, IRS, what's the other one?" she asked me, snapping her fingers impatiently.
"Department of Justice," I said.
She turned to me and frowned. "I thought you mentioned a couple more."
I cleared my throat. "Customs and Treasury. And the DEA."
"See?" she said to him as though that explained that.
"Why lean on me? Based on what?"
"Based on all the shit they've picked up so far."
"From who?"
"You think they don't have agents in place?"
He laughed, albeit uneasily. "What 'agents'? That's bull."
"Sorry. I misspoke myself. I said 'agents' in the plural. There's really only one."
"Who?"
"See if you can guess. Here, I'll give you a hint. Who in the company has gotten close to Beck in the last umpty-many months? Hmmm." She put a finger against her cheek, deep in mock thought. "Starts with O."
"O
"There you go," she said. "Talk about a break. I get sent to prison and that gives her the chance to slide right in."
"She works for the feds?"
Reba nodded. "Oh yeah, for years, and trust me, Little Miss O
"I don't believe it."
"Marty, this is her golden opportunity. You know how it is with women in these shit government jobs. Sure, they get hired. The guys let 'em do all the grunt work, but forget about promotion. There's no upward mobility without a coup of some kind. She doesn't pull this off, she'll be stuck where she is."
"Doesn't sound right. Are you sure? This makes no sense at all. The girl's dumb as a post."
"That's the impression she gives, but she's wily as they come. I'm telling you, she's good. You watch. This lady can write her own ticket, provided she nails Beck first. I mean, look at it this way. Does anybody in the company suspect? You sure as shit didn't and Beck doesn't have a clue. If he knew what was going on, he'd be out the door like a shot. Wouldn't he?"
"Well, yeah."
"You better believe it," she said. "Meanwhile, there she is with a finger in every pie, access to everything. What a sweet deal for her."
Marty seemed to be getting a
"Sure, I'm pissed at him, but I'm not pissed at you, which is why I'm here. I'm trusting you to keep your mouth shut. I haven't breathed a word of this to anyone else. She's after his balls. She's so gung-ho she's willing to screw the guy to get the drop on him."
Marty was silent. I could hear him breathing as though he'd just finished ru
"I know. You're a man of common sense and you're hard to convince, which is why I brought these." She slid the black-and-white photos from the envelope and passed them over to him.