J is for Judgment (Kinsey Millhone 10)

“Harris Brown is an ex-cop—”

“I know that part. He was assigned to the case and taken off because he lost his life savings, investing in CSL, blah, blah, blah. What else? How’d he pick up Wendell’s trail down in Viento Negro?”

Carl Eckert smiled slightly, like he thought I was cute. Sometimes I am, but I wasn’t sure this was one of those occasions. “Some pal of his called. An insurance agent.”

“Right. That’s great. I know the guy. I wasn’t sure, but that was my guess,” I said. “Obviously Harris Brown knew Wendell, but did Wendell know him?”

Eckert shook his head. “I doubt it. I was the one who brought Brown in as an investor back then. They might have dealt with each other by phone, but I’m pretty sure they never met. Why?”

“Because Brown was in the room right next to his, hanging out in the bar. Wendell didn’t seem aware of him, and that puzzled me. What next? Harris Brown calls you last night and you call him back. Then what?”

“I was supposed to connect up with him this afternoon on the way back from SLO-town, but he was suddenly in a hurry and said he had to see me right away. I got in the car and met him at his house in Colgate.”

I stared at him, uncertain whether to believe him or not. “What’s his address?”

“Why do you ask?”

“So I can verify what you’re saying.”

Eckert shrugged and looked it up in a small leather address book. I made a careful note. If the man was bluffing, he was good. “Why the rush?” I said.

“You’d have to ask him that. He had some bug up his butt and insisted I come down last night. I was annoyed and time was short. I had a breakfast meeting at seven, but I didn’t want to argue the point. I jumped in my car and came barreling down, which is when the CHP stopped me and gave me the ticket.”

“What time did you get to his place?”

“Nine. I was only there an hour. I was probably back in my hotel in SLO-town by eleven-thirty.”

“By your account,” I said. “Actually either one of you could have driven to Perdido in plenty of time to use Wendell and me as target practice.”

“Either of us could have, but I didn’t. I can’t speak for him.”

“You didn’t see Wendell at all last night?”

“I already told you that.”

“Carl, what you already did is called lying through your dentures. You swore you were out of town when you were here in Colgate. Why should I believe this?”

“I have no control over what you believe.”

“What was the deal with Brown once you got there?”

“We talked and I came back.”

“All you did was talk? About what? Why couldn’t you talk on the phone?”

He looked away from me long enough to flick the ash off his cigarette. “He wanted his money back. I delivered it.”

“His money.”

“The pension monies he invested in CSL.”

“How much?”

“A hundred grand.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “He lost that money five years ago. What made him think he could suddenly collect?”

“Because he found out Wendell was alive. Maybe he had a conversation with him. How the hell do I know?”

“During which he learned what? That there were funds available?”

He stubbed out one cigarette and lit another, squinting at me stubbornly through the smoke. “You know, this is really none of your business.”

“Oh, stop that already. I’m not a threat to you. I’ve been hired by California Fidelity to find Wendell Jaffe so we can prove he’s alive. All I care about is the half a million dollars we paid off on his life insurance. If you have a cache of money somewhere, that’s really not my concern.”

“Then why should I tell you anything?”

“So I can understand what’s going on. That’s all I care about. You had the money Harris Brown was demanding, so you drove down last night. What happened then?”

“I gave him the money and drove back to San Luis Obispo.”

“You keep cash like that around?”

“Yes.”

“How much? You don’t have to answer. This is pure curiosity on my part.”

“Altogether?”

“Just the ballpark,” I said.

“About three million dollars.”

I blinked. “You keep that kind of money around in cash?”

“What else can I do with it? I can’t put it in the bank. They’d report it to the government. We’ve got a judgment out against us. The minute anybody finds out about it, the litigants will swoop down on it like a bunch of vultures. Anything they don’t get, the IRS will come after.”