The Hinky Bearskin Rug (36 page)

The Chief had
been laying out the charges.

Bing sweated.
He hadn’t met Jewel’s eye once. “You can’t prove anything. I have friends in
high places.”

The Chief
smiled and pulled a stack of file folders toward him. The top folder was the
result of a long night between Jewel, Clay, Ed, the Chief, and Steven’s
computer files. God knew what was in the folders under it. Old deli menus,
maybe.

“Au contraire,
Commissioner Neebly,” Taylor said. “Mr.
Tannyhill has graciously opened his records to us, in exchange for immunity.”

The Chief
flipped open the top folder and started reading off bank account numbers and
dates and sums. “Your greed placed the entire city in danger when you violated
the Hinky Policy, and you’ve embarrassed the city government. You don’t have
friends.”

Bing wilted.

“—But this
won’t go to trial,” the Chief said finally, and Bing brightened. “So long as
you and Mr. Tannyhill are willing to pay back to the property owners the
difference between what you paid for their homes and what the city paid you, I
think we can keep the whole thing quiet.”

“To hell with
that!” Bing burst out. “You don’t dare prosecute. It’s hinky from top to
bottom. The government would send in the quarantine bulldozers, and bye-bye
Circle Line.”

At that, the
guy in the blue nylon windbreaker shot Bing a scared look, then glanced at
Clay. Clay put a finger to his lips.

Clay had miraculously
produced the Inspectional Services weasel, complete with confession and plea
bargain, only that morning, and refused to tell Jewel how. The deal Clay said
he had made was that they would prosecute Zachariah only if Bing or Steven
stonewalled.

“I think Mr.
Tannyhill would like to say something,” Jewel observed.

The former
First Senior of Baysdorter Boncil pulled his eyes around until they both looked
forward. “How can the sandwich have any meat?” he said huskily. “Without
laundry marks, you’re screwed.” He squinted his eyes shut and shook his head
violently.

The Chief
looked at Jewel.

Jewel said, “I
think he’s trying to question our assertions.” She faced Steven. “We know your
pocket zones were portable.”

“There’s no
such thing as a portable pocket zone,” Bing said.

Jewel raised
her eyebrows at the Chief, and the Chief nodded. “Close the venetian blinds,
Clay?” As he got up to do this, she beckoned to Randy.

Randy stood
and slid the big cardboard box the length of the conference table until it was
right in front of Bing and Steven. Then he unfolded the top flaps, reached
inside, tapped dramatically, and stood back.

A Wilma
poppet, eighteen inches high, jumped out like a dancer erupting out of a cake.
She twirled, laughing silently, tossed her blonde curls, and stroked her body
up and down with tiny pink hands, showing off every charm of her body. Then she
reached out to koochie-koo Bing Neebly.

Bing’s eyes
got big and round. He pulled his neck back until he was all chins.

She reached
out to Steven next.

With a cry,
Steven leaped backward, knocking over his chair, and stood, quivering, his eyes
rolling randomly again.

Maida came up
behind him and righted his chair. Then she pressed down on his shoulder until
he sank back onto it.

Jewel said, “You
see, Bing, there is a caterer’s truck in the loading dock at the Darth Vader
building this very minute, unloading desserts for that fundraiser you’re
hosting tonight.” She permitted herself a brief gloat at the panic in Bing’s
eyes. “You may not know what happens when lots of people eat lots of Hoby’s
pastry in an enclosed space. Maybe Steven can tell you.”

Steven turned
his head to the side. The whites of his eyes were all that showed. A whine
escaped his throat.

“And of course
the caterers may leave behind a few boxes of printed matter — Randy, show them
the printed matter?”

Randy reached
past Wilma’s capering feet and pulled out a handful of Artistic Publishing porn
magazines. He displayed these for a moment, then dropped them casually back
into the box, heedless of proximity to the poppet.

Jewel showed
her teeth. “It could take you all day to find the stacks they’ve left — here
and there — all around your eighth floor luxury lakefront apartment.”

“Unfortunately,”
the Chief said, “You’ll be here all day. It’s up to you — pay or be prosecuted.
Twenty years in jail, no job, no pension. You have fifteen minutes before I
call the Inspector General and the US Attorney for RICO. Play ball and you get
fifteen more minutes to get the money in my hands.”

Ed whispered
to Jewel, “Eighth floor? Holy shit, ain’t that where that woman was carrying on
all summer?”

“Yup,” Jewel
whispered.

Clay leaned
over to whisper to Jewel, “And I hear she filed for divorce.”

“No kidding?”
Ed said. “What cause? He’s too fat?”

“To horny.
Something about forcing her to eat doughnuts.”

Over her
chuckles, the Chief told Bing, “By the time you get back home, your condo doors
will be sealed.” That was the Chief, putting bite into a plea bargain as only
he knew how.

Bing protested
weakly. “When you called this meeting and said bring your checkbook, I thought
you wanted a bribe. This isn’t bribery. It’s blackmail!”

The Chief
smiled.

“I don’t have
the funds in my checking account!” Bing said desperately.

“You can
wire-transfer the funds. There’s the phone,” the Chief said. “Or you can use
this laptop and do it online. I’ve set up an account for your victims.” As Bing
sweated, he nodded at the clock on the wall. “In five minutes I make the phone
call.” He nodded to Randy. “We’re done with that now.”

Bing pulled
out his checkbook, looking miserable.

Randy raised
his brows at Clay and picked the box up in his arms. Clay went out with him.

Maida gave the
Chief all Steven’s accounts and passwords. No one mentioned that Lena had
sneaked them to Jewel a day earlier. Maida was legally entitled to provide
them, since Steven had kept all the evidence on his computer at her firm.

No one brought
up what the future held for Steven.

o0o

Today, Jewel
seemed high on adrenaline, but Clay was pooped out, between cleaning out Zachariah’s
accounts, and wrestling with Steven’s files all night, and having his heart
broken, and giving up the woman he loved, and being flicked like a booger
around Chicago in goddess form.

He escorted
Randy to the freight elevator and helped him get the box of porn into the
dumpster.
Thanks for making it look
hinky,
he thought.

No problem,
Wilma said in his head.

Randy didn’t
say anything. In the creaky elevator, on the way back up to the Chief’s
conference room, Clay finally brought himself to speak.

“I’ve been
meaning to give you this.” He fished a long envelope out of his inside coat
pocket. “Your identity.”

Randy took it,
looking suspicious.

“It’s good. No
booby-traps. Just like we talked about.”

“Thank you.”

“Winner takes
all, huh?” With an effort, Clay held out his hand.

Randy shook.
He said soberly, “You will need my help with Wilma.”

Clay froze. “Uh.”

“If we work
together, you can be rid of her,” Randy said.

“Excuse me?”

Hey!
Wilma yelled in Clay’s head.
Come over here and say that!

Clay shushed
her mentally.
There is only one way I am
ever gonna beat this guy. I’ve got to let him think he’s won, so he doesn’t rat
me out and tell Jewel about you.

Randy said, “Come
to me when you need help.”

The elevator
dinged. Eyeing him warily, Clay edged out. “I think we’d better get back to the
meeting.”

Back in the
conference room, Bing and Maida were setting up the wire transfers. Steven
leaned in his chair, dribbling. Zach tried to be invisible. The Chief Attorney
smiled, benevolent as a Borgia pope.

Jewel smiled
at Randy. Her expression hurt Clay in a way he promised himself he could get
used to.

It was livable
pain. Like shingles. Or migraines.

Or crabs,
Wilma suggested.

Oh, be quiet,
he thought.

Why so glum, chum? This will be fun!
she said in his head.
You liked smiting Steven.

That was cool,
Clay admitted.

And the hinky sex with Jewel and Randy.

I did not! I just... didn’t hate it.

And you said yourself that sharing the
body with me could be quite a racket.

A nice girl isn’t eager to aid and abet
a con artist,
Clay
thought primly.

Ah, but I’m not a nice girl.
On the widescreen in his head, Wilma
appeared in a top hat, cane, heels, and a few scraps of black fishnet. She did
a naughty dance step, winked and disappeared.

In spite of
himself, Clay felt a little less heartbroken.

Bing and
Steven, their involuntary disbursements completed, were sent into a deposition
room while they all waited for the wire transfers to go through. Zach slipped
away without remark.

The Chief sent
for coffee. It came with a stack of hot, fragrant, cinnamony cow plops from
Hoby’s. He eyed the pastry askance. “Are you sure,” he said to Jewel, “it’s
safe to eat this now?”

“Pretty much,”
she said with a guilty look and sugar on her chin.

Oh, great,
Clay thought. That was something he’d
spaced, between cleaning up the Circle Line scam and playing host to an
oversexed teen goddess. A hundred million messages in bottles.
Wilma? Is it safe to eat now?

Of course it’s safe,
Wilma said.
Don’t you remember? I recalled all my messengers.

Ed paused, his
hairy paw hovering over the platter. “Well?”

“We
determined,” Randy said suavely, “that there was a dangerous buildup of
unexpended sexual energy in the building that houses both the bakery and the
Artistic Publishing Company.”

“Randy’s our
research expert on magic,” Jewel said. “Ed wants to hire him for the Hinky
Division.” Clay saw her ankle kick Ed’s under the table. “He can also do safe
hinky waste removal.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ed
said, choosing a cow plop. “That’s right.”

“We need his
skills,” Clay said, forcing the words out.

Taylor nodded.
“Okay, I’m impressed. I’ll recommend it. And the dangerous buildup is under
control?” he said to Randy.

Randy bowed in
his chair. “The creation of a film division punched a hole in the dyke, as it
were, causing a magical flood. We believe at this point that the excess energy
has completely expended itself. In any case, the company has suspended use of
the affected printing press until it can be proven safe.”

“What he means
is,” Ed said, “the joint had a case of coitus holdin’-onto-us. But they started
making dirty movies and then we got the Summer of Jizz. Everybody can use a
dirty movie sometime.”

“I’m going to
tell your wife you said that,” Jewel said.

“Feel free,”
Ed said, daintily stuffing a whole cow plop into his mouth with his fingertips.
“I been bringing home foo dovven of vese fings every night.” He squinted,
swallowed, and aimed a crumb-covered finger at Jewel. “She’s gained ten pounds,
but she ain’t feedin’ ’em to the dog, if you get my drift.”

Jewel clapped
her hands over her ears. “Too much information, boss.”

“You started
it. You start something,” he said with triumph, “you gotta be ready to finish
it.”

“So,” Jewel
said, as she stood with Randy on the balcony of her apartment that evening, watching
the sun set over the city, watching the gulls fly along the river below, on the
way to their nightly slumber party on the lake. “Does this mean you’ve finally
satisfied that stupid spell-curse-thingy?”

A shadow
darkened Randy’s brow. “I scarcely know. Perhaps Lady Juliana had no intention
of freeing me. Do you believe I love you?”

Her chest
clutched up.
The L-word.
“Yes,” she
admitted.

“Yet, now that
you’ve freed me,
she
is to be the
judge of my feelings for you! It’s unjust,” he said bitterly.

“There is that
yuck factor,” Jewel admitted. “But it’s occurred to me that Lady Juliana isn’t,
like, personally snoopervising you.”

He shot her a
glance. “True. Such a curse would cut two ways. It binds the magician as much
as it binds the victim.”

“That’s what
I’m thinking. She’s probably out of your life for good.”

She looked
down from the balcony on an unlighted ambulance crossing the bridge from
Dearborn onto Wacker and turning the corner.
He loves me.
She could barely stand to think those words. Better to
keep the conversation on the curse.