Ashes To Ashes: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective (14 page)

I said, "Do tell."

"Yes sir. They had a hell of a beef just
about a week ago—in fact, yeah, just last Saturday. I was inside
stocking the bar and I heard them in the hallway just outside the
lounge. I ducked down behind the bar just because I was
embarrassed, not because I was trying to spy on anybody. I
just..."

I said, "Sure. Anyway..."

"Anyway, nothing was said about Mrs.
Kalinsky, but I think that's what the beef was about. I mean, it's
no great secret around here that Doctor Powell and Mrs. Kalinsky
had this thing going."

"This thing
...?"

"Yes sir, you know, they've been playing
around together."

I said, "Everybody knew that, huh?"

"All the service force, I guess, yes sir.
What you don't see as a bartender or waiter, Mr. Ford, I mean—we're
right there buried in all that stuff, but everybody thinks we're
blind and deaf or something, except to wait on them. Hell, we see
it all. We hear it all."

"Exactly what did you hear during this beef
between Powell and Kalinsky?"

"Well, let's see, the doctor is the one that
is so burned. Mr. Kalinsky was just very cold and hard. I only
heard about half of what he said. The doc I could hear loud and
clear, he was really shouting. He said something like, 'You can
threaten me all you like but you can't pull my strings any longer.'
Strings, like a puppet, see. He says,'... outrageous ...' but I
don't know what was outrageous, and then, 'I'll be out of here in
two weeks and that's final! Do your damnedest!'"

I asked, "And what did Kalinsky say to
that?"

"He says, 'You'll go out alone and naked,
then. And maybe feet first.' "

"He said that?—maybe feet first?"

"Yes, sir, and the doctor got that meaning.
He said that he had enough on Mr. Kalinsky to send him up for life,
that he had all the evidence hidden away somewhere and that it
would all come out if he died, that Mr. Kalinsky had better take
great pains to see that he never died—I mean that Doctor Powell
never died."

"What did Kalinsky say to that?"

"He laughed, Mr. Ford. He laughed. Then he
said, 'Take her to hell with you, then.' I think he meant Mrs.
Kalinsky. But did you see the way he carried on with her down by
the pool tonight? When he thought she was dead?"

I said, "Yeah, I noticed that. You didn't
hear Miss Highland's name mentioned during that argument?"

"No sir. I think they were talking about
Mrs. Kalinsky."

"Is that all you recall about the
argument?"

"That's about it, yes sir.
But if something else should come to me ..."

I walked Ramirez to the door and told him,
"Get cool somewhere. Don't mention any of this to anyone else until
you've checked back with me. But get straight with the cops on that
traffic thing. We may need to lay this on them."

"I understand, Mr. Ford."

At the door, I inquired, "Why did you come
to me instead of going to Kalinsky with this?"

He chuckled nervously. "Kidding? That guy is
cold as ice. My car would have lost its brakes or something on the
way home."

I said, "You really feel that way?"

He shivered as he replied, "Bet your ass I
do. I knew you were an okay guy, though. You learn to spot them
quick, in my business. Especially the assholes. They turn up
quick."

I smiled and said, "I guess that means that
mine did not turn up."

"You are absolutely right, Mr. Ford, it did
not," he assured me.

I hit him with what I thought would be one
last question before turning him loose into the night. "How do you
really feel about Miss Highland?—straight shit, now."

"Straight shit, sir," he
replied, "she's almost too good to be true—I mean, for a rich
person. To tell the truth, I've been in love with her for two
years. Sort of a hopeless fantasy—you know? But I'll bet I could
get rid of those spells for her."

"How would you go about doing that,
Paul?"

"I'd love her in the morning and I'd love
her in the night, maybe all night long."

"You think that would fix her, huh?"

"Yes sir, I think it would."

If only, I was thinking, that could be
true.

Chapter Eighteen: Upgrading

It was a little past two o'clock. Karen had
been returned home and put to bed. A security man called Gallo was
in occupation of her sitting room. He assured me that he was a
"quite competent" paramedic and that she was "okay" but was not to
be disturbed. I accepted that, for the moment, and went in search
of Kalinsky.

I found him in the lounge, having coffee
with two very relaxed and friendly plainclothes cops. I had not
noticed either of these at the death scene. I shook hands with them
under Kalinsky's introductions and joined the table for coffee.

I was introduced by name only, but the cops
apparently already had me related. One of them said something
sympathetic with regard to the "hell of a night."

The four of us small-talked for another
minute or so, Kalinsky all sad charm and quiet grace, then the cops
made pleasant farewells and departed.

That left just Kalinsky
and me in the lounge, except for a houseman hovering
inconspicuously in the background. Kalinsky's demeanor underwent a
marked alteration the instant the cops walked away, moving in a
twinkle from charm and grace to nasty hard.

"Let's get an understanding right up front
here," he growled at me. "You don't do diddly-squat around here
unless you check it out with me first, especially anything
involving outside authorities."

It was a time for hardball and I was
entirely ready for that game. "Get screwed," I growled back. "I
have not signed your dumb-ass contract and I do not intend to. So
let's upgrade this understanding. You back off and come at me like
a regular guy and maybe I will hang around long enough to
straighten out this mess you've got here."

"Oh pardon me," he said, the sarcasm
dripping, "I forgot myself. You're the miracle man, aren't you—
creeping Jesus himself, and you're going to forgive all our
sins."

I replied, "The hell I am," and got to my
feet. "I'll just catch up with the cops for a safe escort out of
this nuthouse."

He grabbed my arm and held on. Our eyes
locked briefly while I was deciding whether or not to break his arm
off at the elbow and take it with me, then he flashed me a twinkle
and said, chuckling, "You're right, I'm being an ass. Sit down,
let's talk like adults."

He removed his hand. I sat
down. We each lit a cigarette. He blew smoke straight up and said,
in a musing tone, "You've met me at my worst, Ash. Sorry.
Everything has just been too crazy. I was upset because you called
the cops before you called me. If you had routed it through me,
see—well, we have channels, friends. We would have had the right
people on the response and we could have avoided that circus out
there."

I replied, in about the same tone, "I
understand. But you need to understand my problem too. You are not
my client. Karen is. And I am not that sure that your friends are
also Karen's friends. So you should understand my desire to have a
neutral response."

"I understand that now," he said softly. "I
did not understand it a moment ago. Again, I apologize. I thought
you had simply lost your head and called the cops without thinking
through the consequences. I was hoping to impress upon you the
importance of working through channels."

I said, "Well, now that we have that all
straightened out..."

"Yes," he replied in a soft voice, "but it
is not completely straightened out. You see, you are working a
false hypothesis. Karen is not your client. In fact, Ash, you have
no client here, as such. You serve entirely at my pleasure. Karen
does not have the power to engage you or anyone else in her direct
service. You work for me or you do not work here."

I knew about where he was coming from, but I
wanted him to say it, flat out. I told him, "Karen has all the
power she chooses to exercise. She can run your ass out of here any
time she wishes to do so. I have been considering advising her to
do just that."

He was still smiling, but a hard edge was
developing at the eyes. "Why are you acting this way? You must know
that Karen would be in a cell right now if I had not
intervened."

I shrugged and said, "One cell is much like
another. And it occurs to me, Kalinsky, that this whole thing has
come to a head at a highly convenient time for you. The Highland
estate obviously cannot pass into the control of a mental
incompetent, can it? In fact, your cup of convenience seems to be
fairly running over. In one fell swoop, here tonight, you've
perpetuated your grip on the Highland billions while also ridding
yourself forever of a troublesome teammate who also happened to be
a competitor for your wife's affections. So surely you can
understand why I am acting this way. Would Karen be in a cell right
now but for your intervention? I wonder. I have to wonder,
Kalinsky, if it was your intervention that put her in the shadow of
that cell in the first place."

I don't know what sort of reaction I had
expected from the guy. I only know that I was a bit surprised at
the one I got. He seemed to relax, sink a bit lower in his chair,
smiling inwardly. After a brief silence he laughed softly and gave
me a wink.

"Well," he said quietly, "we seem to be
getting all the cards onto the table. Incidentally, I just
remember that I did not express my gratitude to you for saving
Marcia's life. That was a hell of an heroic thing. I salute you.
But don't think for a minute it gives you room to tweak my nose. I
won't stand still for that. Are you really psychic?"

It seemed that we were
moving back into a game of verbal tennis. I told him, "I have my
moments. As for Marcia, it was not heroic, just human, and you
expressed your gratitude in the only way that counts by your
actions at poolside. You're really in love with the lady, aren't
you?"

He looked at his hands as he replied. "
'Course I'm in love with her. She's the only thing that made these
past twenty years bearable. Think it's been a picnic here,
submerging my entire life in someone else's business? You said a
cell is a cell. Look at mine, Ash. My whole life is a cell. Just
how good a psychic are you?"

I said, "I found Karen. How good was
that?"

"Damned good," he came right back. "I meant
to ask you how you did that."

"It did me," I told him. "And quick enough
to spoil the timing on the play. No way would Karen or Doc Powell
either one get that far away on foot in the time allowed. How long
have you had that conservancy tucked away for such convenient
use?"

"Who said they got there on foot?"

"I didn't notice wings on either of
them."

Kalinsky gave me a sly grin. "Wings would be
nice. But a car is faster. The police found Carl's BMW in the
bushes just a few hundred feet beyond that canyon. As for Karen,
she had plenty of time to wander that far. I spent more than ten
minutes searching for her on premises before I alerted you and
Carl. Maybe that canyon is one of Karen's favorite getaways and
maybe Carl knew that. Maybe you knew it, too, which also disposes
of the psychic bullshit. Who says I've had anything tucked
away?"

I said, "Your telephone conversation with a
certain judge says it, the one you made before you came out to the
scene."

His eyes narrowed. He crushed out his
cigarette and immediately lit another, toyed with his coffee cup,
finally said to me, "You're a pretty good fisherman but a lousy
psychic."

I said, "Other way around, TK. But never
mind, neither applies here. I'm also a pretty good detective.
Matter of fact, though, it does not take much of a detective to
catch the action around here. Why was Carl leaving?"

Kalinsky was a bit slow moving to the
opposite corner to return that serve. He bit his lip for a nervous
moment before replying. "Did he tell you that?"

It was a weak return, and it caught me off
balance. I could have offered a better volley than this: "No. We
were talking about God and Satan when you came in on us. Trying to
decide who's in charge here."

"I'm in charge here," said my host
immediately. "Don't forget it. And don't take too many liberties
with my patience. You may be a high-mucky guru in certain circles,
but you're small change in this division, kid."

So the hell with it. I
went back to hardball. I said, "I was supposed to be Karen's
victim, wasn't I? You ran me through your gristmill and decided I'd
make the perfect turkey. That's the only reason you allowed Karen
the freedom to cultivate me. Carl sent her to Zodiac for the
specific purpose of finding a cuckoo to crucify. Then he got cold
feet or an attack of conscience and wanted out. Adding insult to
injury, he was going to take Marcia with him. That little subplot
came to a head down beside the pool tonight, when you thought you'd
lost Marcia the hardest way and you realized how much she really
meant to you. Ipso quicko, that emotional head of steam sent Carl
to the crucifix in my place. A brilliant move, sure, in the short
look—but you should never let a momentary emotion replace years of
careful planning, TK. It's all coming unglued, now, the timing
shot to hell—and then, also, there is this small change rattling
around in the basement and threatening to bring the billions
tumbling down."

Kalinsky growled, "You're crazy as
hell."

I told him, "Not as crazy as you think, if
you believe I walked into this mess unprepared." It was time to
make a believer of him. "Karen has not killed anyone. She has not
tried to kill anyone. She is not mentally incompetent. She shall
not be deprived of her rightful inheritance."