Before I could answer, I heard Abe Socolow calling from inside the living room. “Hey, Jake, c’mere.”
I think Socolow liked bossing me around. Maybe it compensated for the few times I beat him in court. I went back inside to let him insult me some more. Jo Jo followed a step behind, and I made a mental note to check for knife wounds later.
The file drawers from Blinky’s bedroom/office were stacked in the living room. Every drawer was open, and the contents were being searched by patient, if bored, cops. In the foyer, an antique milk can, lacquered bright orange, was turned upside down. A dozen carved wooden canes and shillelaghs along with a couple of umbrellas were spilled onto the floor. The canes weren’t just for show. Blinky used them after tearing up his knee crawling out of a Dumpster filled with credit card receipts.
Now Socolow marched around the living room, holding a handsome cherry cane with a large polished knob for a handle. The whole thing was fairly phallic, but I didn’t bother to share my thoughts with Socolow, who was gesturing at me with the damn thing.
“ You know what’s in those papers?” he said, pointing in the general direction of the cocktail table where he had spread out several thick, typewritten documents.
“ No, Abe. You tell me.”
He hunched over the table, leaning on the cane like a pettifogger out of Dickens. He ran a finger along the lines of a page, furrowing his brow.
“ You could read faster if you didn’t move your lips,” I told him, helpfully.
“ What the hell is Rocky Mountain Treasures, Inc.?”
“ A company Blinky formed,” I answered.
“ I can see that. What’s it do?”
“ Hunts for treasure.”
Socolow scowled. “Didn’t Baroso get indicted for something like that, selling stock in a deep-sea salvage company down in the Keys?”
“ Only civil suits, and that involved sunken Spanish galleons,” I corrected him. “This is all about gold and silver in the Colorado mountains.”
“ Yeah, that’s what it says here under ‘corporate mission.’ Socolow began turning pages, again, reading aloud now. “‘The company will use its best efforts and employ the latest sophisticated technology to locate and reclaim one or more of the following: the Arapaho Princess Treasure, the Golden Mummy, the Treasure of Apache Gulch, La Caverna de Oro, the Lost Dutchman mine, the Purgatory Canyon Treasure, Moccasin Bill’s Lost Mine, the Lost Gulch mine, the Devil’s Head Treasure.’ “Socolow closed the folder and looked up at me. “Hey, Jake, what are you doing involved in this wild West shit?”
“ What do you mean?”
Now he was looking at the corporate minute book. “Says here you’re a ten percent shareholder…”
“ That’s right.”
“ And secretary treasurer of the company.”
“ What?”
“ Plus general counsel.”
“ What?” I said again.
“ You heard me. Your bio is in the prospectus that goes to potential investors. You’re described as one of the leading trial lawyers in Florida. Who wrote that, your granny?”
“ I don’t know anything about it,” I said, honestly. “Blinky gave me the stock in lieu of a fee, but I never agreed to be a corporate officer or to let my name be used. You know I’d never subject myself to liability like that.”
Socolow was back in the file again, still leaning on his cane. “Blinky’s bio says nothing about his criminal record or the lawsuits against him. What do they call that in securities law, Jake?”
“ A material omission of fact,” I said.
“ Right. The feds would be real interested in that, wouldn’t they? Maybe a 10 (b) (S) violation. What else do we have here?” He turned over a few more pages. “The corporation issued one hundred shares of stock, twenty to Louis Baroso, ten to Jacob Lassiter, and seventy to Kit Carson Cimarron.”
“ Who?”
“ Just what I was going to ask you, Jake.”
“ Damned if I know. Sounds like a cowboy.”
Socolow closed the folders, looked at the detective, at Jo Jo Baroso, and back at me. He didn’t say anything. He was into his genius-at-work mode. He started pacing, the cane clacking against the tile. At the moment, he was probably the most irritating person on the planet. He stopped at the sliding glass door to the balcony and seemed to study the smooth waters of Government Cut. To the south, cars were streaming across the newly renovated MacArthur Causeway, and below us, the fronds of the palm trees swayed gently in the breeze. Finally, he turned and faced me. “Jake, I’ll bet you all the gold in Apache Gulch that Kyle Hornback was going to sing about Rocky Mountain Treasures, Inc. Maybe it’s a little farther from home, but it’s just another of Blinky’s scams. Now, as for you, I know you step over the line once in a while, but I gotta tell you, I’m real disappointed.”
“ Abe, listen to me, I-”
“ Lemme finish. The way I see it, Blinky figured he’d worn out his welcome down here. Kyle was doing his selling up there, and this Carson probably put up the money and added some local credibility. That left you to handle legal problems.”
“ Abe, you’re not listening. I never agreed to represent the company or be an officer. I didn’t ask for the stock, and I didn’t write the prospectus. As far as I know, the company’s legitimate, but even if it’s not, where’s the proof Blinky killed Kyle. “
“ Who’s talking about Blinky? I’m starting to agree with you. Baroso’s not a tough guy, at least not without someone to back him up.”
“ Like who, or is it whom?”
“ How about the guy who owned the house where the decedent was killed, the guy whose tie was the murder weapon, whose prints are on the body, and who just happened to discover the body and call the cops?”
“ Are you nuts? Why would I kill Kyle Hornback?”
“ Ah, motive,” Socolow said in that infuriating tone intended to indicate his intellectual prowess. “The missing ingredient. If I nailed down the motive, Jakie my boy, I’d be in front of the grand jury quicker than you can say life without parole. But I’m getting warm, aren’t I? It’s got to do with Rocky Mountain Treasures, doesn’t it, Jakie?”
“ It’s your case, Abe. You figure it out.”
“ Let’s see now. If Kyle had flipped, it wasn’t just Blinky who was at risk, was it? What about the company lawyer? Come on, Mr. Secretary-Treasurer and General Counsel. Want to bet that the motive is buried with all that fool’s gold in cowboy country?”
He aimed the damn cane at me.
“ Abe, I hope you’re prepared to use that thing. If not, I may just ram it up your tight ass.”
Socolow glared at me, but the detective growled and shifted in his chair. “There’s no need for that kind of talk. The state attorney doesn’t have to stand for it.”
“ It’s all right, Major,” Socolow said, pleased he’d gotten to me. “Jakie seldom hits anyone. Hell, he seldom hit anyone when he played ball.”
Still Socolow kept the cane leveled at my chest. He was enjoying this too much. I strained to keep my temper under control, my mind’s eye playing a little fantasy involving Socolow’s head and a heavy piece of polished wood.
“ You see, Major,” Socolow said, “I’ve come face-to-face with every category of miscreant known to the law, but essentially there are only two types, wicked scoundrels and foolish scoundrels. I fear that what you see at the end of my cane is nothing but a foolish scoundrel.”
I kept my voice low and didn’t raise an eyebrow. “At which end, Abe?”
CHAPTER 9
Sylvester Houston Conklin fell asleep in front of the television, watching Clint Eastwood blast five bad guys in a San Francisco diner. Earlier, Kip had put away a double portion of spaghetti and meatballs and a protein shake. Carbs and protein, I was bulking him up. Yesterday, it was brown rice, broiled fish, and raw vegetables for the fiber. I did the cooking, and he ate it all. As a reward, we split a sixteen-ounce Grolsch.
Now he was sacked out on the sofa, so I carried him upstairs to the second bedroom, his body warm in my arms. I tucked him in, pulling the sheet up under his chin, and pushed the blond bangs out of his eyes. I was starting to feel avuncular, if not downright fatherly.