White Collar Blackmail: White Collar Crime Financial Suspense Thriller (19 page)

Chapter 36

Nearly a year had elapsed since the death of Devlin Cooper, and Karen Deacon hadn’t heard another word from the blackmailers. The funeral had been huge, the church overflowing. Thousands of mourners listened in silence as the service was piped out into the street. Karen had wept uncontrollably as had many others. The speeches were long, heartfelt and passionate. Tom Deacon spoke about his love for the young man with the bionic arm and how he felt that he’d lost a son. Devlin’s father broke down at the microphone having said that his son had barely tasted life.

Half a dozen of Chicago’s finest attended the funeral hoping to find out what Devlin Cooper had been doing on a desolate road in the middle of the night. Rumors abounded that he had wanted to test the speed of the Lamborghini, and things had gone horribly wrong. The police had dismissed this theory and leaned to suicide, largely because of the absence of skid marks. Some in the media discussed the Pirates game but were respectful and discreet. No one wanted to speak ill of the recently deceased.

After the service was over the funeral procession had slowly wended its way through the city. Flags flew at half-mast, and the sidewalks were crammed with grim-faced mourners trying to catch a glimpse of the flower encompassed coffin. Others hung their heads or signed the cross.

Karen had felt terrible about leaving Tom, and the kids missed him terribly. He didn’t understand why she’d left and promised that if she returned, he would be more attentive and would cut down his work hours. He called regularly, and while Karen listened and felt sorry for him, she knew she could not go back. She didn’t know when the CD was going to raise its ugly head again but did know that it was only a matter of time. When it was finally made public it would be unbelievably painful for Tom and the kids, but far more so if they were living together.

Todd had never worked so hard in all his life and felt sorry for every waiter or waitress he’d abused or told to hurry up. In the first two days, he’d messed up orders, tried to carry three plates and dropped one, and had burned his forearm when he’d rested it on a hot plate. Sammy seemed to be everywhere and loved shouting at his hapless employees. Every mistake Todd made, Sammy shouted, “That’s a deduction,” meaning it was coming out of Todd’s paycheck. Amazingly, by the end of the second week, Todd could carry five plates and work a dozen tables without missing a beat. He had even resorted to shouting at the kitchen staff when they were slow in preparing meals. Sammy’s prices were cheap, and the restaurant was busy, but in quiet times, Todd found himself washing dishes or sweeping floors. Sammy was a hard taskmaster who wanted his pound of flesh. Including tips, Todd made the princely sum of two hundred and sixty dollars in his first week but doubled it in the second. Finally, he had enough to pay the freight and storage costs on three suitcases that had been in storage since his imprisonment.

It had been over a year since Todd had last entered the betting parlor, but nothing had changed. It was the third Saturday he’d been out of prison, and punters were lined up six deep at every window. He didn’t have an iPad or a system, but he did have a form guide and an undertaking that the SEC and FBI would pick up his losses. He took a position at the back of the shortest line and when he got to the window said, “Belmont Park, race three, a hundred the win, number seven.”

Ronny Conroy glanced at the battery of cameras adjacent to his desk and grinned. The kid was back. He was sitting at a table by himself passing a betting ticket from hand to hand. A few minutes later Ronny took a seat at Todd’s table.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Ronny. I wanted a bet,” Todd said. “Don’t you want my business?”

“Yeah, of course, I do. I meant how come you’re out?”

“My lawyers were granted leave to appeal on a technicality. I’ve been released pending the outcome. I don’t fully understand it. It’s complex, but the lawyers are challenging the law.”

“So you could go back in again?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“When’s the appeal going to be heard?” Conroy asked.

“Hold on just a second, Ronny,” Todd said looking at one of the monitors.

The commentator shouted, “Miami Princess takes the lead with a furlong to go and is careering away for the easiest of wins.”

“You got a win?” Conroy asked.

“Four hundred bucks.” Todd grinned. “I don’t know when the appeal’s being heard. It could be next month; it could be a year.”

“Who’s paying your legal fees?”

“That’s none of your business,” Todd said a little too sharply as the stressed face of his mother flashed before him. “Sorry, Ronny, that’s personal.”

“That’s okay. Are you working?”

“Yes, I have a job.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m in restaurant administration. I wouldn’t mind working here as a teller if a vacancy arises.”

“I don’t have anything right now. I’ll keep you in mind, though. You still have the same cell phone number?”

“Yes. Ronny, sorry I have to be rude, but I need to get another bet on.”

“I’ll get out of your way. I don’t want to cost myself business.” Conroy laughed.

Three hours later Todd left the betting parlor. He’d won just over a thousand dollars.

On the way to his apartment, he called Vanessa and arranged to meet her on Sunday evening for coffee. It was the first time they had spoken since before his trial. She had been surprisingly friendly, and Todd wondered how he would feel about someone who had wrongfully put him in jail for four nights.

After talking to Todd, Conroy had gone straight back to his office and called Jack Elliot relating the conversation.

“Say that again,” Elliot said.

“He’s got a job in restaurant administration,” Conroy replied, “but he still asked me for a job as a teller.”

“Restaurant administration? He’s a proud little shit. I’ll say that for him.” Elliot laughed. “He’s waiting tables and washing dishes in a cheap food dive. And the place he’s living in is not fit for dogs. When he comes in again see what else you can find out.”

“Don’t you mean
if?”

“Ronny, he’ll be back. He’s hooked on the horses. Did he have his iPad? Was he inputting details of the race results?”

“Nah, all he had was a form guide.”

“No matter. He’s a gambler. He wouldn’t have come back if he wasn’t.”

When Todd got back to his room, the smell of freshly cooked chicken mingled with other meats and cheeses was nauseating. He forced a window open, knowing that the street noise was the lesser of two annoyances. He sat on the edge of his bed thinking about his thousand dollar win. It had lifted his spirits, and he picked up the A4 pad from the cabinet to make some changes to his budget. As he removed the single sheet, he grimaced. He always kept work papers behind the third blank page of foolscap and A4 pads. He was anal about it. His budget was immediately behind the first page. Someone had been in his room. Aaron Lord had said that this would occur, but Todd hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. They were watching him.

He couldn’t worry about it. He needed to get cleaned up and off to work. As he rinsed his face, his cell phone rang. There was no caller identification and Todd tentatively said, “Hello.”

“Todd, it’s Tony Lombardi, I’m getting out in two weeks.”

“That’s great news, Tony. Do you want me to grab a cab and pick you up?”

“Nah.” Lombardi laughed. “That’s all arranged. I wanted to let you know that Mr. Arturo is very disappointed. He hasn’t said anything, but I know. He misses the chess. You’ve been out for nearly four weeks and haven’t visited. He likes you, Todd and let me tell you, he’s the best friend you’ve got in New York.”

“I-I’m working six nights a week, Tony. Jeez, I never thought he’d want to see me. It never entered my mind.”

“If I were you, I’d make some time this Sunday. You know how it works. Phone administration and let ‘em know what time you’ll be there.”

“Sure, sure, Tony, I’ll do that but you know I won’t be able to play chess or cards. We’ll just be able to stare at each other through the glass and talk on the phone. And you know Frank’s not very talkative.”

“Didn’t you learn anything in here? Those rules don’t apply to Frank Arturo. You make the call, and they’ll set up a private room, chess board and all. Make the call, Todd.”

“Thanks, Tony. I will. If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

Lombardi laughed. “It’s a nice thought, kid, but there’s nothing you can do for me. Oh, don’t tell Mr. Arturo I called. He never would’ve asked.”

Chapter 37

Castlebrough separated visitors from inmates by unbreakable glass and communication was by phone. On the Sunday that Todd visited he was scanned and patted down before being led to a compact room. Frank Arturo was sitting next to a heater and behind a table with a chess board set up on it. He was sipping a cup of coffee. “It’s good to see you, Todd. Would you like coffee or a soda?”

Todd knew that he was powerful but was still taken aback by the privileges he received. No other prisoner in Castlebrough got the kid gloves treatment reserved for Frank Arturo. “No, thanks, Frank. I’m fine.”

“Let’s play then.”

Arturo was no more talkative than he’d been when they had been inmates together. His concentration on the game was intense, and they played in near silence. After three hours and four games, scores were even, and Todd was preparing to lose the last game when Arturo said, “We’ll have to play the deciding game when you next visit. I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“I know you’ve done a deal with the government to get your sentence remitted. You’re going to try and infiltrate the gang who put you in here and feed them to the FBI. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Todd was surprised by how much the mob boss knew and wondered whether Elliot knew too. “I’m sorry, Frank, I can’t say anything.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game. If you get caught, they’ll kill you. Have you memorized the phone number I gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. It’s a pity you have to work in that restaurant while you wait for them to make a move. I could’ve given you a job in one of my enterprises that would’ve made use of your brains.”

There was an abrupt knock on the door.

“Give me another five minutes.”

“Yes, Mr. Arturo,” a voice replied.

Everything Lombardi had said was true. Frank Arturo did run Castlebrough.

“I know you can’t work for me because you’ve got your deal with the government,” Arturo said, “but I’d hate to lose my chess playing partner. Now listen to me. They’re going to try and get you to wear a wire. They’re gonna say it’s for your safety. You wear it, and you’re dead. So when the Fibbies put the pressure on you, tell ‘em to go to hell. Capiche?”

Todd was amazed. Arturo seemed to know everything. “Yes,” Todd replied. “Do you know who set me up?”

Arturo stood up. His face was expressionless, and his lips drawn in a thin line. “I’m ready,” he shouted. “When will I see you again, Todd?”

“Is two weeks from today, okay?”

“I’ll see you then,” the mob boss replied.

The coffee shop on Jane Street, West Village was only a few minutes’ walk from Vanessa’s apartment, and she got there a few minutes early. She was wearing a stylish padded black coat with a faux fur collar and light blue designer jeans. In the cab ride from Castlebrough Todd wondered whether Vanessa would be cold toward him. She certainly had good reason to be. He need not have worried. When he entered the coffee shop, she stood up and gave him a radiant smile. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Given the circumstances, you’re looking very well,” she said.

“Yes, someone paid to have me protected. I don’t know who, but I guess it was that low-life, Jack Elliot, the guy who set me up. It’s strange. He called me and when I thanked him he didn’t say anything. I don’t understand why he’d want to look after me though.”

“It wasn’t him. I thought you’d know. Doug asked Max Lustig to use his connections to make sure that you came to no harm. Didn’t anyone tell you? Todd, if Elliot contacts you again, you should stick to the same story. If he believes that you think he looked after you, he’s more likely to give you a job. He might even presume that you harbor feelings of loyalty.”

“Good idea. God, Max Lustig. I should have guessed. He’s the only man I know who knows those type of people. That was good of Doug. I’ll have to pay him back when I get some money.”

“Max wouldn’t take any money. He said that he liked you and that the crooks had led you astray. I wouldn’t be surprised if he offers you a job after this is all over. You have more friends than you think.”

A waiter took their order − a latte for Vanessa and a cappuccino for Todd.

“Vanessa, I want to apologize to you again. I’m so sorry I put you through that. I should have owned up. I feel terrible,” Todd said.

“Don’t think I didn’t hate you when I found out what you did. It was after Doug told me that they’d threatened to kill your parents if you said anything that I softened. I still think losing all that money gambling and putting yourself in that position was stupid. What were you thinking? My mom and dad haven’t forgiven you. I doubt they ever will.”

Todd hung his head. “I’m so, so sorry. Did Grinich and Lord tell you the risks you’re going to be taking by acting as my intermediary? You’ll be risking your life. Why did you say you would?”

Vanessa took a long sip of her latte. “I think I’ll be all right. You’ll be the one dealing with the gangsters. I’m doing it because I like you, and it will reduce your sentence. I’m also doing it for Doug. Montgomery Hastings & Pierce are about to admit three new partners all sponsored by Cromwell. According to Doug, Cromwell will then have numbers to remove him.”

“From the partnership? I can’t believe it. Doug’s the rainmaker. They’ll lose too many clients if they remove him. What will happen to you if he’s not there?”

“Cromwell hates me. If Doug hadn’t supported me, I would’ve been sacked a long time ago,” Vanessa said, taking a napkin and wiping the froth from the corners of Todd’s mouth.

Her gesture was totally unexpected, and Todd felt himself turning red.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Todd, there is one thing we have to discuss. Our cover is going to be that we’re an item and in public that’s what we’ll be, but I want to let you know that’s as far as it goes. You’re a nice guy, but I don’t have time for a relationship. It’s just a façade and once the reason for it’s over we’ll go back to our normal lives.”

Todd tried to pick up some nonexistent froth from the bottom of his cup. He looked up. Vanessa’s hair hung loosely on her shoulders, and her big brown eyes seemed to say
do you understand?
“Wow! That’s pretty definitive.” Todd grinned. “Don’t worry. I owe you so much. I’d never do anything to upset you.”

“I know,” Vanessa said, putting her hand over Todd’s. “I just thought we should sort the rules out from the start.”

“You know nothing may come of this. There’s only a small chance that Elliot will offer me a job. I think I know how to play him, but I might be wrong. I’m going to hang around the betting parlor and keep asking Ronny for a job. I’m sure he’s in cahoots with Elliot.”

“I understand but if he does offer you something, it will look better if we’re in a relationship now rather than after. You can start by walking me home.”

As they left the coffee shop, Vanessa took Todd’s hand. Five minutes later at the entrance to her apartment building she said, “Kiss me.”

Todd had been wanting to kiss those voluptuous lips since the first time he had laid eyes on Vanessa but had lacked the courage to ask her out, and now he was nervous about kissing her. He put his arms around her bulky coat and gently kissed her but she leaned forward, and he felt the warmth and savored the fullness of her lips. It was everything he had imagined it would be. After about a minute, she drew away from him and said, “Goodnight, Todd. Let’s have dinner on Friday night. We’re going to have to do some serious dating to ensure our relationship is seen as genuine.”

As Todd walked along the street, he was still breathing heavily.

It was midday on Wednesday when Todd entered the betting parlor. It was quiet, and only ten or so patrons were looking at the monitors and betting boards. Todd was disappointed. He had hoped that Elliot might be there. Perhaps he wasn’t going to take the bait. Perhaps Ronny hadn’t even contacted him. There were only two tellers operating and Todd placed a hundred dollars for the win on The Phantom in the first at Hialeah Park. He ordered a mineral water and took a chair at one of the vacant tables.

The Phantom ran into interference at the top of the stretch and then flashed home to finish third. “A good thing beaten,” the race caller screamed. Todd tore up his ticket and buried his head in the form guide.

“You were unlucky then,” Ronny said, taking a chair opposite Todd.

“I’ll get it back.” Todd smiled, pleased that Ronny was taking such an interest in his small bets.

“Sure you will. How come you’re not working?”

“I work at nights. It’s good. I can spend more time here.”

“Oh yeah, you’re in restaurant administration, aren’t you?” Ronny laughed derisively.

“Yes, that’s right. What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I just wondered, if it’s such a good job, why do you want to work for me?”

“I never said it was a good job. I’d far prefer to work in a place like this where I can use my numerical skills.”

“Yeah, I thought about it but I’d have to be a fool to employ you. I’ll teach you the business and in six months’ time you’ll be back in Castlebrough. How sure are you that your appeal’s going to be successful?”

“I’ll level with you, Ronny. I’m not. My lawyers say I’ve got a twenty percent chance, and I think they're optimistic. I’m going to make the most of the time I’ve got. Sorry, I have another bet I want to put on.”

“How come you’re not using your system?”

“There’s a lot of work in it. If I knew I wasn’t going back in, I would be,” Todd said as he stood up.

By the time Todd left the betting parlor, he had lost three hundred dollars.