V is for Vengeance (Kinsey Millhone 22)

The woman was dangerous. I hadn’t understood before the power of her position. She could present the so-called facts in any light she wanted, using neutral-sounding language to drive her point home. How many times had I read similar accounts and taken the contents at face value? The gospel according to Diana Alvarez was anything she wanted the public to believe. She was sticking it up my nose because she knew I had no way to fight back. She hadn’t defamed me and nothing she’d said had been libelous. Taking issue with her would only make me appear defensive, which would further her views.

I got up and walked back to the kitchenette. I poured myself a cup of coffee. I had to hold the mug with two hands to keep the surface steady. I carried the coffee back to my desk, wondering how soon my phone would start to ring. What I was graced with instead was a visit from Marvin Striker, who had a copy of the paper tucked under one arm.

He looked as dapper as ever. Even in the midst of fuming, I had to admire the conservative dress code to which he adhered. No jeans and flannel shirts for him. He wore dark slacks, a muted sport coat, a white dress shirt, and a gray wool tie. His shoes were polished and he smelled of aftershave. In an earlier age, he would have been known as a dandy, or a swell, or a man about town.

He noticed the paper lying on my desk, which saved him beating around the bush. “I see you read the article, same as me. So what did you think?”

“You come off looking a lot better than I do, that’s for sure,” I said. “I told you she was a troublemaker.”

I gestured him into a chair.

He sat down, posture erect, his hands on his knees. “I’m not sure I’d call her a troublemaker. Granted, she’s got a different point of view, but that doesn’t mean she’s wrong. Like she says, she’s looking at the bigger picture. I already got two calls this morning, wanting me to sign a petition in support of the suicide-prevention barrier.”

“Oh, come on, Marvin. That’s a smokescreen. She’s using the issue to stick it up my nose. She doesn’t like it that I won’t jump when she says jump.”

He stirred uneasily. “I can see you’re taking this personally, which is a mistake in my opinion. I understand you don’t like criticism. None of us want to be held up to public scrutiny, so I don’t fault you for that.”

I waited. He made no response. I said, “Finish the sentence. You don’t fault me for that so what do you fault me for?”

“Well, you know . . . that vice detective didn’t exactly endorse your point of view. About Audrey and this gang stuff.”

“Because he’s just like Diana Alvarez, thrilled at the chance to cast me in a bad light.”

“Why would he do that?”

I waved the question aside. “It’s not worth getting into. It’s ancient history. I won’t claim he hates me. That would be an exaggeration. Let’s just say he dislikes me and the feeling’s mutual.”

“I gathered as much. I mean, I wasn’t sure how well you knew the guy, but he didn’t come across as a big fan of yours.”

“He was a friend of my ex-husband’s, who was also a cop. Believe me, there’s no love lost between us. I think he’s a creep.”

Marvin’s right knee began a subtle jumping that he stilled with one hand. “Yes, well, that’s an item I thought we should cover while we’re at it. You don’t like Diana Alvarez and now it turns out you don’t like the vice detective. No offense, but it sounds like they don’t like you either.”

“Of course they don’t. That’s the point I just made.”

“Which presents me with a problem. The newspaper gal I don’t care about so much as this vice cop, what’s his name.”

“Priddy.”

“Right. If you’ll remember our initial conversation, you said I should hire you because they considered you a professional. Now it looks like that’s not true.”

“He doesn’t consider me a professional at any rate,” I said.

“So that has me wondering.”

“About what?”

“If you’re the best person for the job. I thought we could kick the subject back and forth between us. I’m curious what you have to say for yourself.”

“I’ve said my piece. You want to fire me, fire me.”

“I never said anything about firing you,” he said, aggrieved.

“I thought I’d save you some time. No need to dance around the subject. You want me gone, I’m gone.”

“Don’t be in such a rush. Thing is, I don’t question your qualifications or your sincerity. It’s just the police don’t believe there’s anything to this business about a shoplifting gang. You have to admit it sounds farfetched, which I’ve said all along.”