BENNINGTON P.I. “BONITA” (6 page)

“Hello Frank, what is it?”

Ivanka knew a call this early in the day was unusual for me.  I’m more a late to bed late to rise kind of guy.   

“Ivanka, I just had a visit from three cops this morning, and I have no idea what about.  Was hoping you could recommend a lawyer to keep these guys off my ass until I figure out what I’m up against.”

There was a brief pause before Ivanka replied.

“You have no idea what they wanted?”

I found myself shaking my head with the phone to my ear, even though I was alone in my apartment.

“Not a clue.  They looked serious, real serious.  One of them was pointing his gun at me like I was al-fucking-Qaeda.”

Ivanka paused again, and then gave me a name and number.

“Stanislov Nedkov, 202-239-1455.  Tell him you’re a friend of mine and then tell him everything that happened with the police.  He is very good, but also very expensive.  And he will expect to be paid Frank, and has the means to make sure that happens. Don’t call him unless you are certain you want his help.”

I didn’t want to ask the question, but had to, wanting to be sure about what I might be getting myself into.

“Does he work for the Russian’s Ivanka?”

Ivanka’s laugh was brief, as was her subsequent reply.

“He’s good Frank.  You want good, you call Stanislov.  Let me know how it goes.”

She ended the call, leaving me to stare at the clock as I wondered if I should call the number Ivanka had given me.

I took a deep breath and moved out from the bed sans clothing toward the apartment’s small kitchen area.  Decisions like this demanded I make certain my mind was firing on all cylinders.

It was coffee time.

8.

Most people think they drink coffee, but I find that in today’s world, what they actually drink are sugar laden, mocha java this and that bullshit that looks more like a milkshake than anything remotely resembling actual coffee.  As for me, I’m a just give it to me straight up dark kind of guy.  No cream, no sugar, just plain old black bean goodness to get the heart rate up and the fog pushed out of one’s head.

I was nursing my third cup of brew by the time I had made up my mind to call the number Ivanka had given me.  It was almost 10:30 in the morning. 

The voice that answered my call had no hint of a Russian accent, and sounded surprisingly cheerful.

“Good morning, this is Stanislov.”

“Hello Mr. Nedkov, my name is Frank Bennington.  I was given your contact number by Ivanka, she’s a friend of mine.  I need a bit of help, and she said you were the one to provide it.”

Stanislov’s cheerful nature continued as he responded to my initial words.

“Well of course.  A friend of Ivanka’s you say?  Very good.  Where are you located Mr. Bennington?”

I gave the attorney my address, surprised at how quickly he was willing to see me.

“I’m no more than twenty minutes away Mr. Bennington.  See you soon.”

The called ended.  It took me a few minutes to realize I had not yet gotten dressed.  Coffee in the nude was a common practice for me.  Call it one of the perks of being single.

Twenty minutes later and I was clothed, my teeth brushed, hair combed, and looking like something at least approaching competence.  A light knock on my door sounded and soon after entered Stanislov Nedkov, in all of his colorful glory.

He appeared to be in his mid forties, was of average height, very lean and fit, with a narrow, high cheek-boned face and short cropped hair.  A neatly manicured, dark haired goat-tee framed his mouth and chin.  He wore a perfectly tailored dark grey pinstriped suit, with a brilliant pink tie, and diamond encrusted cuff links.  The attorney’s hand reached out to shake my own, and despite his long, rather thin and delicate looking fingers, the grip was strong and confident.

“Nice to see you Mr. Bennington.  Is that law enforcement parked outside your apartment?”

I nodded, remembering Detective Mears promising to do just that.

“Yeah.  The cops said they’d be back later today. I’m assuming with a search warrant”

“And you have no idea what any of this is about?”

I shook my head.

“Not a damn clue.”

I spent the next ten minutes recounting my morning to the attorney.  He sat with a slight smile on his face, nodding his head occasionally, taking no notes, and giving little indication of what he thought about what I was telling him.

“So is that it Mr. Bennington?  You spoke with this Walt last night, had a few drinks, and then came directly home?”

Again I nodded.

“Yeah, just like that.”

Stanislov leaned back and closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them and looked back at me.

“Have you spoken to Walt since then?”

I was surprised, and a bit embarrassed, that I hadn’t thought to call him.

“No, I haven’t.  He was going to call me.”

The attorney nodded and smiled, though his eyes were a flinty cold stare.

“Could you call him now Mr. Bennington?  See how he’s doing?”

I shrugged.  No harm in that.  The phone rang several times and then went to Walt’s voice mail.

“Yeah Walt, it’s Bennington.  Just checking in.  Call me back.”

Stanislov smiled again, seemingly pleased.

“Very good Mr. Bennington.  Now let’s talk about compensation.  You said you’re a friend of Ivanka’s, right?”

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

The attorney stood up and buttoned his suit jacket.

“Can you afford my services Mr. Bennington?  I’m the very best, but the best don’t come cheap.  I’m going to need twenty thousand dollars cash as an initial retainer.”

I felt my mouth drop open.  I had a little money saved up, but nowhere near twenty thousand.  Then my phone rang.  It was Ivanka.

“Is Stanislov there Frank?”

I glanced over at the attorney as I held the phone to my ear.

“Yeah, he’s here.”

Ivanka asked to speak with him. 

“Hello Ivanka!  Yes, yes we were discussing that very thing.  Really?  Oh, I see.  Very good!  Yes, I agree, he could be of value to us. Ok then.  Yes, thank you Ivanka.  Goodbye.”

The attorney handed my phone back to me and smiled again.

“Ivanka tells me you have many political connections Mr. Bennington, and that you are now starting your own private investigations business.”

I nodded, wondering what else Ivanka had told him.

“Uh-huh.  About that twenty thousand though…”

Stanislov waived my concern away.

“Already taken care of Mr. Bennington.  Ivanka has vouched for you, and so whatever needs to be squared up between us will take place after we have concluded our business. For now, we need to find out how far along the case against you has already progressed.”

Again my mouth dropped open.  What case against me was the attorney talking about? 

“You have an idea what this is all about?”

Stanislov nodded as he turned and walked toward my door.

“Oh yes, Mr. Bennington. I’m pretty sure you’re a suspect in the murder of the man you spoke with yesterday – Walt.  Having two detectives in your house indicates something of that nature, and the timing of your meeting yesterday, followed by the events of this morning, points to you being a murder suspect.  This is conjecture on my part of course, but this isn’t my first rodeo you know.”

I didn’t bother to hide my bewilderment.

“That’s crazy.  You’re mistaken.”

The attorney held his arms out to his sides and shrugged, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Maybe.  For your sake, I hope I am.  At any rate, I’m gonna pay that officer outside your door a little visit and let him know you’ve lawyered up.  That should get the ball rolling pretty quickly on them letting us know what they think you’ve done.  Oh – before I do that, could you tell me whether or not you killed Walt?”

I was shocked and then pissed at the allegation.

“No, and fuck you for asking.  As far as I know, Walt’s just fine.”

Stanislov stood staring at me for several seconds and then nodded, the smile returning to his face.

“Very good Mr. Bennington.  Very good.”

I watched from my door as the attorney walked calmly over to the patrol car that had remained outside my apartment since Detective Mears had left earlier in the morning.  Stanislov leaned his face down into the vehicle’s open driver’s side window and then nodded back at me.  I could see the same uniformed officer who had pointed his gun at my face while I lay in bed that morning, looking from the attorney and then to me, his mouth curling in anger, disgust, or both.

The attorney then turned away from the police cruiser and walked back toward my apartment, the confident smile remaining on his face.  When he reached the doorway, he paused and glanced behind him toward the police officer.

“He’ll be calling in the fact you have a lawyer Mr. Bennington, and not just any lawyer.  They know who I am, and more importantly, how good I am.  Let’s go back inside and talk a bit more.”

Once back inside, Stanislov lifted his nose into the air and inhaled deeply.

“You have any more of that coffee Mr. Bennington?”

I poured another cup for myself and one for the attorney, and then sat down across from him.

“You really think Walt is dead?”

Stanislov sipped from his coffee cup and nodded approvingly.

“Ah, you make a fine cup of coffee Mr. Bennington!  As for your friend Walt, I think timing would indicate that as being a very strong possibility.  The fact you were not charged this morning indicates the investigation doesn’t have enough on you to do so. They wanted you to come in for questioning hoping you would say something that would implicate yourself.  Typical police tactics, and nothing I would worry too much about at this point.  Now you mentioned you two were about to begin a case together, is that right?  He used to be a private investigator as well?”

I nodded, but wasn’t near comfortable enough with the attorney to divulge what little I knew regarding Walt’s hints at a big case that he promised would bring a big payday.

“Yeah, but he didn’t say much about it.  Was going to get the particulars from him later today.”

The attorney’s eyes narrowed as he finished his coffee. 

“Hmmm, and the very next morning the police are harassing you.  Again, timing points back to this meeting with your friend Walt.  I suggest you get to work Mr. Bennington.”

I felt my brow furrow as I looked back at Stanislov Nedkov.

“What work?”

The attorney rolled his eyes at me and then leaned forward in his seat.

“You’re a private investigator, right?  Well then start investigating what happened to Walt, and why the police think you have something to do with it.  You have my number.  When the police contact you again, call me immediately.   Tell them nothing – I am to speak for you from here on out.  And until then, go about as you normally would in your line of work.  Investigate.  If Walt is in fact dead, as I think he is, and you truly had nothing to do with it, then it seems most likely you’re being set up.