Last stopped at this and laughed. “American eloquence. I hadn’t heard that one. Stunning.” He smoked. “The second man said they needed to talk about that First man said he didn’t know of anything his competitor was doing that was illegal. Second man said that didn’t matter, things could be worked out” Last paused. “They got interested in someone in the loo again and then the first man wanted to talk about it some more. Just think a bit about it, the second man said. They would get together again and explore the idea some more. They polished off their drinks, very quietly watched someone in the loo for a few minutes, and then the second man said they’d better get back or they’d be missed. That was it. I had to get out of there.”
Last brought his hand to his mouth again, and the tip of the cigarette glowed and died.
“I didn’t hear anything about the police in that,” Graver said. “Everyone has intelligence capabilities now. Business, industry.”
“But when the second fellow asked the first if he wanted to eliminate his competitor, the first said his competitor wasn’t doing anything ‘illegal.’ Why would that figure into the picture at all if they weren’t cops? Who moves against illegalities? Who could use an ‘illegality’ as a means to close down a business?”
Graver shook his head, not altogether convinced. This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he thought he was going to hear. It was too vague.
“Did you get a good look at these guys?”
“I think so. Their profiles, anyway.”
“The owner of the house wasn’t one of them?”
“No.”
“Who owned the house?”
Last shifted in his chair. “How’s that going to help you?”
“I don’t know. It sure as hell won’t help if I don’t know.”
“You want me to find out these two guys’ names? I’ll do that.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Look, this man collects ‘native American’ art I’m trying to interest him in pre-Columbian stuff. It could be very good for me. Pre-Columbian is going to be very big. The free trade business is going to open up Mexican-interest marketing possibilities. I’m the newest thing in his life right now, Graver. Some of your clubfooted boys start mewling about asking questions, and this guy’s going to ask why people are snooping around him all of a sudden. He’s going to say to himself: Victor Last shows up and now people are asking questions.” Last took one more hit off his cigarette and dropped it to the tile and stepped on it “I don’t have to explain this kind of thing to you, Graver.”
“No, you don’t And I don’t have to explain to you that what you’ve just told me is interesting. I think it’s mildly amusing that men stand outside bathrooms and watch women urinate, but this definitely is not good take, Victor.”
Graver could see enough to see Last grinning across the table.
“Well, I suppose it depends on what it is you’re looking for, doesn’t it,” Last said. He shifted in his chair, crossed his legs the other way. “You want names.”
“Of course I do. And let’s see if we can’t find out if ‘the second man’s’ intelligence operation is in the police department or in the American Southwest Meat Packers Association.”
Last clucked his tongue at Graver’s sarcasm and stared across the table. “Come on, Graver,” Last said softly, “tell me. Didn’t I hit on something?”
Graver’s response was immediate and a surprise even to himself.
“Okay, Victor. The truth is, no, you didn’t hit on anything. If you’ve discovered a breach in CID security, it’s news to me. But if you have discovered something, I sure as hell want to know more about it. I’m just not convinced you have, that’s all.”
Last nodded, slowly and for several moments. “Okay, Graver,” he said finally, pushing his chair back and standing up. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Graver stood too.
“You still swim laps?” Last asked, his hands in his pocket as he looked down at the water.
“Yeah.”
Last nodded his head. “Very disciplined. Admirable. Really.”
He started toward his car and Graver followed him a few steps across the patio. When Last got to the Mercedes, he walked around to the driver’s side, put his hand on the door handle and looked across the top of the car. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.
“That’s fine,” Graver said, and Last opened the Mercedes door. “But, Victor,” Graver added, “don’t ever come back here again.”
Last grinned at Graver across the top of the car, got inside, and closed the door. Graver watched as Last backed down the cinder drive to the street and drove away.
TUESDAY
Chapter 20
The Third Day
Too much was happening; sleep had become a rare commodity, and Graver no longer had the peace of mind to acquire it After Last’s departure there remained only a few hours for him to toss among the sheets, trying to turn off his mind. When the alarm finally sounded, he was both exhausted and grateful and rolled out of bed with a headache. He showered and dressed and left the house without even considering making his own breakfast Instead, he stopped at a coffee shop on the way downtown and sat at a window table while he downed several cups of stout, black coffee with his bacon and eggs and watched the city slowly awaken to a clear hot day.
Because he had got out of bed immediately and had not taken the time to make his own breakfast, he beat Lara to the office by nearly an hour. That was fine, he needed the time to get himself together. After putting his briefcase on his desk, he went across the hall and started a pot of coffee. While he waited for it to brew he stepped into Lara’s office and left a note on her desk to tell Paula, Neuman, and Burtell to be ready for a nine o’clock meeting in his office. He also asked her not to disturb him. Then he poured himself a cup of coffee and went into his office and closed his door.
There was a lot to think about, and while he had eaten breakfast he had made some decisions. The first was that he resolved to have Westrate’s report ready by the end of the day.
He turned on his computer and tapped in the license plate number he had seen on Last’s Mercedes. The car belonged to a Camilla Reeder who lived in a condominium in far west Houston. Ms. Reeder was thirty-one years old and listed her employment as a cosmetics representative for Laurel Cosmetics. She had no criminal history. Last seemed to have become acquainted with an unmarked woman-on the face of it at least-which was an improvement for him.
Graver then turned his computer inquiries in another direction. He typed Last’s name into NCIC to get a report on Last’s most recent activities. He hadn’t kept up with his career in nearly a decade, not in detail anyway. After that, he typed a brief inquiry document to be sent to the major intelligence agencies requesting MO and crime analysis subject category matches on Victor Last’s career markers. It was time to see if Last had been back to his old ways.
After sending this out on the lines, Graver turned back to his desk and set about making notes on these as well as the essential elements of his conversations with Paula and Neuman.
At five minutes before nine o’clock, he opened his door and said good morning to Lara. Standing at her desk, he gave her a list of things he wanted done, briefly discussing each item on the list before he turned and went back into the office.
He went over his notes again and was making last-minute notations when he heard Paula’s voice outside in the hallway followed by Lara’s laughter. The door opened and they came in one after the other, Paula, Burtell, and Neuman, each of them carrying notebooks and folders and something to drink. Everyone said good morning as they shoved their chairs around to suit them and sat down.
Graver, trying to cover the self-consciousness he felt in Burtell’s presence, moved brusquely into business. He knew Paula and Neuman would be watching to see how he was going to play it.