Jackie's Week (7 page)

"Okay."

"If there is nothing else, I’m going back to
bed. But I move we all go out to dinner tonight. Might as well try
out Jackie’s new wheels."

"I think I would like that," Jackie said.
"But I can’t picture you in a Lexus. You’ve always been a limo
man."

"I can’t picture it either," he said. "No
matter how much they advertise, the Lexus is a woman's car. But no
matter."

"Beanie," Donna said. "There is something
else. Something serious else."

"Shut up, Donna!" Jackie hissed.

Donna shrugged. "Never mind, Beanie."

"No," he said. "What is it, Donna?"

"They caught the guy who did it. But he sent
somebody to threaten Jackie. And Jackie's bodyguard killed him. We
think."

"Now that’s a horse of another feather," he
said, sitting up.

Jackie stared at him. "His name is Viktor
Bout. The cops are holding him, but if I don’t pick him out of the
lineup, he’s going free in the next day or so. Donna was going to
ask you to kill him," she said. "I asked her not to."

Bienenfeld searched her eyes for a moment,
his face unreadable. "For the time being," he finally said, "I’ll
have somebody keep an eye on you, just for your safety."

"Not necessary," Donna said. "The cops
already have somebody watching us. And Jackie has her own
bodyguard. Dr. Black's brother, Bobby."

"No," he said. "The cops are idiots. And even
Bobby, whoever he is, has to sleep sometime. I am going to have a
guy I know keep an eye on you. I’ll go and arrange it right now and
then I am going back to bed." With a great stretch, Bienenfeld got
up and disappeared up the stairs.

Jackie got up and began clearing the dishes.
"He sure took that casually. Where’s the soap for the
dishwasher?"

"You can leave those," Donna said. "Juana
will do them when she gets in."

"Well, la-de-da, Charlotte," Jackie said.

Chapter 13

"That’s quite a scar over your right temple,"
Marsha said to Jackie.

"This scar across my temple is where the
bastard brained me," Jackie said.

Marsha’s corner banking office resembled a
cocktail lounge, with it’s polished black granite flooring, and
orange-and-chrome decor and dim recessed-spots, which hid from view
the multitude of financial sins committed daily by the bank’s
primary clients—the mafia and their business managers to the
entertainers.

Marsha was an elegant, petite woman, with an
incredibly thick mane of natural, long blonde hair, its bright
sheen only slightly chemically assisted. Marsha was confidently
decked out in a little black dress, as though it wasn’t really
Tuesday morning, but, rather, the hard edge of Friday night.

"I know a good plastic man when you’re
ready," Marsha said.

"Why do people who recommend their plastic
surgeon to someone always say 'When you’re ready?'" I’ll tell you
what I am ready for—I’m ready for a good stiff drink."

"No problem, I’ll fix you one."

"If it’s no trouble. Anything with
vodka."

"An early morning drink is a common request
around here," Marsha said. She got up and opened the cabinet behind
Jackie which contained a shelf of high quality booze and a small
refrigerator stocked with the finer necessities of the drinking
craft.

"I’ve never had a drink in a bank before,"
Jackie said. "I guess I’ve never been important enough for any
banker to offer me one."

"You’re important to us," Marsha replied.

"Mmm. This is one good vodka martini. I
shouldn’t. In fact, I think I can trace most of my financial
difficulties to a few shots of vodka last night."

"Sounds more like a repressed soul making a
bid for freedom if you ask me."

"Last night my ‘bid for freedom’, or whatever
you choose to call it, took the form of blacking out and buying a
new car."

"It wasn’t a blackout. You’re just in the
process of discovering your true self. In a blackout, you know
exactly what you are doing, but later the conscience represses it.
Some people get beyond all that. I have. I do whatever I want and I
don't need alcohol as an excuse."

"I started seeing a shrink yesterday," Jackie
replied. "To deal with my flashbacks following the attack. To deal
with everything."

A man poked his head in. "Jackie?" he
said.

She fought to get her breathing under
control. The man was menacing by any standard. For one thing, he
was the largest man she had ever seen. His refrigerator sized frame
was draped with a cheap baggy tan suit. There was some sort of a
satchel slung over his shoulder by a wide strap. Behind him, to her
surprise, she spotted Bobby right behind him, the long braid over
one shoulder. Bobby wore a short Dodger jacket. On his belt was a
large hunting knife.

"Yes?" she said, her voice squeaking.

"My name is Nasturtium," he said. "I just met
your man, Bobby. The both of us will be keeping an eye on you. As
per my arrangement with Mr. Bienenfeld."

"I have the police already doing that," she
said.

"As I said, we will be keeping an eye out, as
per our arrangement with Mr. B." With a half smirk, he
disappeared.

"Oh my God," Jackie said. "He startled me
when he popped through the door like that."

"I’ve seen him around before," Marsha said.
"He’s some kind of ex Navy Seal or something who got thrown in
prison for war crimes. Now he works for my uncle Ernie." She opened
the folder as though nothing had happened and reviewed the
paperwork, extracted a single sheet, and pushed it towards Jackie
while extending a gold ball-point pen. "Sign at the bottom and
you’re all set."

Jackie scrawled her signature across the
bottom of the note. "You make it so easy."

"We’re treating it as a commercial note to
avoid bothersome disclosures and red tape. When Bienenfeld writes
the loan summary, he’ll probably make up some B.S. about how the
money’s being used for the option rights to a book you're writing
or something." She placed the note in the folder and handed Jackie
a supply of temporary checks. "Use these for now."

"Do I get a receipt or anything?"

"No es necesario."

"I can’t believe I just got this loan. Are
these funds from the government bailout?"

Marsha smiled. "This is not the type of
banking enterprise that needs a government bailout. We do very
nicely in rain or shine. It’s all about relationships around
here."

"Thank you Marsha."

"De nada. And I mean you are very welcome.
Why don’t you give me a call sometime and we’ll have a drink
together? Maybe we can explore that area of you which needs to
function in a blackout."

"I don’t get out much. I—oh hell, I might
call you. I don’t know."

"It’s just a drink. I’m not going to eat you
alive. And not to change the subject, but I’m curious—what happened
to the guy who did that to you?"

"The cops grabbed him yesterday. But he’s
getting out again if I don’t step forward and finger him. Now he is
sending his friends after me."

"There are other ways."

"Like what?" Jackie asked.

"Like other ways besides involving the
police. Nasturtium and Bobby for example."

"I’ll admit I’ve thought about it. But deep
down I know I don’t have the guts. It’s really a police
matter."

"Of course," Marsha said. "A police matter.
Now I want you to have a very nice day. And give Donna my best.
Adios."

Chapter 14

Donna was waiting for Jackie in the limo with
the sun roof slid back. Jackie climbed in and felt the welcome rush
of cool morning air as the huge vehicle glided away from the
curb.

"I still don’t see our police escort," Donna
said. "I bet he got lost in some sort of bureaucratic shuffle."

"It doesn’t matter," Jackie said.
"Bienenfeld’s cavalry just rode in. The guy is huge."

"Well I am sorry it had to come to this,"
Donna replied. "So what did you think of Marsha?"

"Meeting her was rather strange," Jackie
said. "For one thing, I think she offered to help me nail Viktor
Bout."

"Bienenfeld’s having an affair with her."

Jackie's brain came to full stop and then
chugged forward cautiously at this new revelation. "Say again?
Donna?" But there was no need to question the statement. The pain
was written all over her sister’s face. "Donna, are you kidding
me?"

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out."

"Why didn’t you tell me before?"

"Jackie, you have enough troubles without
listening to mine. Young, isn’t she? And short, but she just
escaped being pudgy and instead is impossibly curvy. Maybe my
husband finally decided he was tired of me towering over him. You’d
think she’d leave the old men alone. I wish she didn’t have such
gorgeous hair. Marsha is the reason I first went to see Dr. Black.
She talked me out of killing myself last year."

"Donna. Oh no. I’m sorry. Do you want to talk
about it?"

"It’s a long story, but Marsha is the niece
of Ernie Catalano."

"One of Bienenfeld’s mafia guys?"

"Catalano isn’t one of anybody's anythings.
He's the enforcer for the Los Angeles family. Actually, he's the
godfather, except they don't use that word anymore."

"I thought the mafia had been destroyed by
the FBI."

"Don't make me laugh. Of course, they aren't
what they used to be since the Russians and the Triads moved in.
Not to mention the Latin Kings. But rest assured they are still
here and doing what they do best. Catalano is the one who really
controls the bank, although his name isn’t anywhere to be found. He
hand-picked his board of directors from his collection of movie
moguls and other perverts who owe him favors. Bienenfeld is just
his window dressing, someone who can pass a background check and
who looks good to the public while the rest of them launder the
money they steal."

"Donna, I don’t understand how you can live
through each day knowing your husband is doing Marsha. How can you
stand it? What does Bienenfeld have to say for himself?"

"He thinks I don’t know. I’m scared to bring
it up. To tell you the truth, I’m afraid of Marsha. I think she is
dangerous. So, it’s just something I have to live with. What else
am I going to do? What!"

"You’ve been keeping a lot of secrets from
me. But it’s my fault. I haven’t really been there for you lately.
I feel like I’m just now returning after five years in the Foreign
Legion."

"Don’t worry about me. The main thing right
now is getting you back on your feet."

"Marsha invited me for a drink," Jackie
said.

"Jackie, stay away from Marsha. The mafia is
real and it’s ugly. And as for her offer of help with your
problems, you might be surprised what Marsha may have had in mind
for your attacker."

"Marsha’s only the enforcer's niece. It’s not
like she can order a hit or anything."

"Get real. Every mafia family is a nest of
women and children who know everything, and not only that, they’re
just as capable of lying, stealing and killing as the patriarch.
They’re like rattlesnakes. The venom of the young is more deadly
than that of the old. Why do you think I haven’t insisted
Bienenfeld end his affair? The truth is, I’m scared stiff of these
people. I don’t want to wind up in the La Brea tar pits. Or
worse."

"Donna, I feel like I’m seeing you for the
first time. And it scares me."

"Why, because I’m living with a man who
scares me? Or because you finally learned that your sister is a
loser? Jackie, every day I ask myself how in the world did my life
get ruined like this. I was such a fool to marry him. I was young
and naive, and here was this handsome hotshot. On our first date,
he picked me up in the limo. I was just swept away by his money and
power. I never asked myself any of the important questions. And
every time I had doubts, we were off to some fabulous party
somewhere, or doing something ordinary people only dream about. Now
I find out he is just a punk errand boy for Ernie Catalano."

"It’s okay, Donna. Obviously you loved him
once. Maybe you need to remember that. You saw something good in
the man. Maybe you can find it again. Tell me something. Do you
still love him?"

"Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe I do still love
him."

"How in the world did our lives come to
this?" Jackie said.

"Jackie, there’s something else. Bienenfeld
got in trouble awhile back. A Times reporter was investigating the
bank. My husband might have gone to jail for some rather serious
financial indiscretions. But Ernie Catalano got involved and the
reporter disappeared. Bienenfeld owes Catalano. I think my husband
is an accomplice in a murder."

"Oh Donna."

"Welcome to my desperate world," Donna
said.

They crested at Mulholland Drive but got
caught at the light. The unbroken line of cars in the opposite
direction, curving up from the Valley and escaping single-file
across the intersection towards the Beverly Hills side reminded
Jackie of riders at a theme park moving through a fantasy land.
Facing Donna and Jackie was the sprawling pre-historic ocean floor
of the San Fernando Valley, ringed by jagged brown mountains and
crowned in a light wreath of smog. Jackie looked at her sister,
surprised by the sudden look of determination furrowed across her
brow, as though the combination of swerving vehicle and curving
road could somehow purge the welter of emotions seething beneath
the surface.

"Next stop, Paradise," Donna said.

Chapter 15

"New experiences can be overwhelming," Jackie
said. "At times like these, I feel like such a fool. I can’t
believe I bought a car this color!"

They were standing on the Lexus showroom
floor in front of Jackie’s new car.

"It looks more like a cosmetic designer’s
fantasy than a color for an automobile," Donna said. "I wonder if
they sell matching lip gloss and nail polish."