This is the third installment of the Chanco Lupaster, Reggie Haskell novel, The Wrong Guest. The beginning is here.
3. Catch a Falling Star; Just Try It
“For Christ sakes man. It’s simple. Tail Marijyn and Upstine and find out who they talk to, where they go. Woolley has nothing to do with it. Let the police take care of Woolley,” Manthes sputtered.
“And what might the police have to resolve about Woolley? Does Woolley know something about the Lowell woman and her friend that you ought to tell me?”
“You are confused,” Manthes said.
I yawned. These lawyer types live on ignoring the obvious and putting themselves in the center of the drama. “Woolley would not have called if he did not know he was about to fall into boiling water. He would not go near a mess of trouble like Lupaster Investigations LLC,” I said and stretched back in my chair to relieve the tightness in my spine. “Have you considered that Sam Woolley could be the center this whole affair, not Marijyn Lowell, not Godfrey Upstine, and not you? Billions of dollars depend on patent ownership.”
“Dr. Manthes,” Lupaster said, “the police are at your service. They do a marvelous job.”
“An investigation like this takes the police years. I have days. If I’m lucky, maybe a month.” Manthes’ voice was weak and he was gulping air.
“What do you mean by that?” I said.
“If Woolley is afraid, they can get me too.”
“Well, I don’t follow that,” Lupaster said. “You just said Woolley had nothing to do with it. You should take precautions, but you have resources also. As a prosecutor, you must fend off threats all the time.”
I was inclined to attribute Manthes’ antics to what medical scientists refer to as the high heebie-jeebies.
“I talk to a lot of people,” Manthes said. “Some of them powerful, others not so powerful, but knowledgeable. I’ve told some of them about this Lowell and Upstine thing. Some of them are worried. I don’t know why they are worried, but they told me they are. They’re asking me to fix it. I couldn’t tell them no, even if I wanted to. But don’t know how. This is out of my league. I do fine on civil rights violations and corrupt aldermen.”
I raised an eyebrow at this, wondering if Dr. Manthes stood for or against civil rights violations and corrupt aldermen. If he was in favor, he was doing an admirable a job. If he was against, he ought to try harder.
“Dr. Manthes, surely you realize they already know. If they didn’t, Sam Woolley remain quiet.”
Manthes shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
Lupaster looked around the room, his arms extended horizontally as if he were checking if the walls were too close.
The wind shook the mulberry tree and a few clumps of snow fell, but the tree remained hidden under a thick white coat.
“We may be able to help you. But forgive me for saying this; Lupaster Investigations LLC is not a charity. We close our doors if we’re not paid,” Lupaster said. I was silently cheering. Too often, Lupaster is too willing to work pro bono. In principle, I had no issue with that, but bills still arrive for payment and our creditors pay no attention to my pleas for pro bono absolution.
“My office will hire your firm as a consultant.”
“Reggie?” Lupaster tossed the ball onto my desk.
“Eight hundred dollars per hour, plus expenses. A billed hour represents an hour of the LLC, not any specific member or members. No extra hours when more than one representative works simultaneously.”
“Is that satisfactory, Doctor Manthes?” Lupaster said.
“No. Eight hundred an hour is piracy.”
“Very well. Reggie, get Doctor Manthes’ hat and coat. Return his weapon on the sidewalk. If decides to renegotiate, eight hundred is now nine hundred.”
I rose from my desk.
“Wait. Do you guarantee results?”
“No.”
“Give me a break.”
“No.”
Lupaster was back to staring at the well-chewed pro bono corner of his desk. For once, I approved of Lupaster’s apparent indifference toward his client. Hard bargaining gets results.
Fellman chose that moment to enter the room. Rooms shrink when Fellman enters. He occupies about a quarter of the office. He was wearing a dark brown suit with a red pinstripe and a tie that picked up the red; the expanse of broadcloth looked like a mountain with red ski tracks.
“Dr. Manthes, meet Fellman Biggers. He will undoubtedly work on your case. He also knows Mr. Woolley’s office.”
Fellman and Manthes nodded at each other without speaking. Fellman shifted his weight and the floor creaked.
Manthes drew in his breath sharply and flipped back his head to examine the white painted acanthus bas-relief on the office ceiling. I noticed that we missed a few spots when we painted.
I looked at my watch, holding my arm up where Manthes could see it.
After twenty-eight seconds, Manthes released a stream of air.
“All right,” he said. “Eight hundred per hour and expenses. It will take a few days to set up. All reports will be verbal and direct to me. You may have some access to my staff, but every contact must be through me. You will have no letters of introduction. I will help where I can, but you will not be working under the wing of the Justice Department. I’ll send over a contract day after tomorrow.”
“Nine hundred. I said the price had gone up,” Lupaster said.
“We must have something on paper today. We have to start immediately,” I said.
“Dr. Manthes, are you saying you had not thought out all of this before you came here?” Lupaster said.
I estimated that the red area of Manthes’ face increased by four square inches.
“Chanco, I don’t know what I was thinking when I came here. I didn’t have time to think.”
“You came up with this plan in twenty-eight seconds,” I said.
“All right. I rephrase. I lacked the composure to think it through.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound. Reggie type up a temporary agreement. Something Dr. Manthes will sign,” Lupaster said.
I set to work. I had done this before.
“Chanco, I can’t see how we could work any differently. I don’t know where the sides are drawn. I don’t know anything. You may bring down my best friends, I don’t know. I have to do something, but anything could mean a pipe bomb up my trouser leg.”
“A suggestion: if you are uncomfortable with the security in your office, Lupaster Investigations LLC should have an operative on the premises,” Lupaster said. “For an extra two thousand a week.”
“Impossible. Impossible.” Manthes paused. “Who?”
“I don’t think Reggie or Fellman would do. That leaves Theresa.”
“Who’s Theresa?”
I trotted over to Theresa’s office across the hall and motioned for her to come. She stepped in. “I’m here. Theresa Baton. Pleased to meet you, Dr. Manthes.”
I have occasionally admitted that Theresa is formidable. She has flaming red hair, a strong face, wide spaced green eyes, and she dresses well, just the kind of woman a foolish man might think of as an ornament.
Manthes heaved a sigh and looked relieved. I guessed that Manthes was seriously underestimating Theresa. All the better for Lupaster Investigations LLC. No sense in terrifying clients at nine hundred per.
“Theresa is absolutely confidential and skilled with computer data systems. I assume your records are all on computer?” Lupaster said without ostensibly acknowledging that Lupaster Investigations LLC had snagged a fee.
“Yes. Yes of course. We can’t handle them any other way.”
“Good, then you won’t have any trouble giving access to Theresa.”
“Why? I’m hiring you to tail the Lowell girl and her boyfriend.”
“Dr. Manthes. Lupaster Investigations LLC does not accept tailing jobs. We will investigate Marijyn Lowell and related concerns. To do that, we must have some access to your office records and personnel. Take it or leave it.”
Manthes shook his head. “I don’t have time to haggle. She will have any access she needs. She can use my credentials.”
I handed him a pad of paper and pencil. Manthes scribbled, and then got up.
“Just a minute. The agreement.” I placed a single sheet of paper on the desk.
Manthes read it quickly. “Yes. I’ll sign this.” He slapped his chest and found a gold pen in his inside breast pocket. He signed quickly. I pushed the paper to Lupaster. Theresa stepped in next to Lupaster and guided his hand to the spot and Lupaster signed. I dug out my notary seal and sealed the document. Fellman signed as a witness.
“I can get my own hat and coat,” Manthes said.
I got up anyway and followed him. I helped Manthes with his heavy coat and escorted him to the sidewalk. Then I took Manthes’ Walther from my side pocket and offered it to him, saying, “Never leave a weapon in an entry hall. You never know who might jack it.”
Instead of a noisy outburst as I hoped, Manthes shook his head. “You keep it. I grabbed it from my desk when I left the office. That was foolish. I’m a lawyer. I fight with words and reason. I’ve forgotten how to use a gun. I’m safer without it.” Manthes’ eyes had no life in them, as if he did not have much hope for safety. I accepted the Walther.
Manthes pushed his cap on his head and stomped out the door. I made sure the door latched tight when it closed. Snow had built up on the stoop and Manthes picked his way gingerly. On the last step, he slipped and almost fell, recovering himself by swinging his arms wildly.
A black Lincoln town car with a driver had double-parked outside with the engine running. The driver jumped out, grabbed Manthes’ elbow, pulled him to his feet and hustled him into the town car. I caught a glimpse of a U.S. Marshal’s star on the driver’s chest. From the snow on the pavement under the car and the snow on the rest of the street, the car must have arrived after the prosecutor entered the office.
I shook my head and returned to the office, wondering whether I should put Manthes’ eight hundred an hour and two thousand a week on the books, o r wait for the contract. I decided to enter it. In ink.
I had just completed the entry when we heard the boom. We found out later that the town car had gotten all the way to the Hyde Park Bank when it went off. There was no pipe bomb in Manthes’ trouser leg. It was under his seat.
Lupaster shook his head when he heard the explosion. “Poor Dr. Manthes,” he said.
I nodded, although I was not sure what I was nodding to.
The phone rang.
I picked it up. “I have to talk to Lloyd Manthes. He must be there now,” a voice I heard not too long ago had become more frantic. He spoke before I could say my usual, but I got it in anyway.
“Lupaster Investigations LLC, Reggie Haskell speaking. How can we help you?”
“Yes. I know. Get me Manthes. Something happened on the street in front of the bank. Tell me Manthes was not involved.”
“Just a second. I’m putting you on speaker. Who is this?”
“Turn off the speaker. This is Sam Woolley. I must talk to Manthes in private,” came out over the speaker, followed by a boom that I guessed was a gunshot. Then the sound of a receiver falling on a hard surface and a soft thump. My guess was confirmed.
I started a search on my computer immediately and found Woolley’s office number before the thump was over. I slammed it into my mobile phone and dialed.
“Sam Woolley’s office? Did you just hear a gunshot? No. Please. Forget about the first boom. I think Sam Woolley has been shot. Will you check please? I will stay on the line.”
A scream came from the phone speaker. The woman I spoke to on my mobile must have done what she was told. Then there was the sound of a body tumbling to the floor. I kept up my average by guessing she had fainted.
“Is anyone there?” I said loudly into the speaker. There was no sound. I hung up.
The mulberry tree was collecting fresh clumps of snow on its branches, which were again sagging under the weight. I hoped a gust of wind would shake the snow off again. That poor mulberry was carrying the weight of the snowstorm.
Lupaster stared at the chewed corner of his desk and rubbed his chin with his thumb.
I know Lupaster’s silences. He is thinking and he won’t speak or move until he has arrived at the end of whatever he is thinking about. My stomach had not forgotten lunchtime and was preparing to order me to go to the kitchen to forage for braunschweiger when Lupaster spoke.