Frank Ryman definitely looked spiffier today. Better turned out.
“Got a new girlfriend?” asked Tammy Smith, a cutting edge in her voice, but eyeing her partner with something other that simple amusement. Was it interest? Girl finds boy appealing interest? In Frank Ryman? Was that possible?
She and Frank were sitting in a donut shop on Market Street, a few blocks from police headquarters, a place frequented by cops on break or cops just wishing to discuss things away from the office. Though it was lunch time, neither of them was thinking lunch. Too much going down to take time for a full meal. The Bernstein thing. It had to be wrapped up in a hurry.
“Truth is,” said Ryman, “I am planning for another personal relationship. Would you, Tammy Smith, consider taking this rundown, beatup, impossible to live with detective, to be your rundown, beatup, impossible to live with live in?”
“Not now Frank. I’m trying to swallow this donut.”
“Nobody swallows like you do, Tammy. It was the first thing I noticed about you. That and those beautiful...”
“Frank.” Why was she smiling at this crappola? Maybe is was Frank’s own smile. He must have used one of those teeth whiteners and it made his smile friendlier somehow, sweeter, less wolfish. Yellowed teeth don’t go well in a narrow face like Frank’s. Today, for some reason, he also seemed to have found an ironed shirt and a pressed sport coat. He hadn’t smoked a cigarette all day either. Not in front of her anyway. Very unusual. Worth asking about.
“Giving up the butts, Frank?”
“Trying, Tammy. For you.”
His tone, and the conversation generally, had taken a dangerous turn. Tammy Smith was on the verge of doing something she had tried very hard to avoid doing. Putting her partner and his interpersonal aspirations down very hard. Something held her back, however. This something being that she quite suddenly and very surprisingly realized she might not want to put him down hard. Or at all, for that matter. Before any kind of decision could be reached or declaration made, Frank Ryman got out what he’d wanted to get out for a very long time.
“Look, Tammy. We’re not kids anymore. And I’m a lot further from being a kid
than you are. I’m a jerk in a lot of ways. I don’t say the right things to women, especially to a woman like you who I probably offended more than most because from the first time a saw you I wanted something special between us. Not sex. Well, not just sex.” He seemed to have run through his prepared script. “ Gimme a hand here, will you.”
“You’re doing all right.”
Dawn rose in Ryman’s face. Tammy Smith marveled at the change. He’s not a wolf at all, she thought. He’s a little Lassie puppy.
Frank Ryman, the consummate interviewer and interrogator, understood that he might actually have a chance with this woman. He leaped at it.
“I thought we could just go out a few times. You know. Dinner. A show. Do some art galleries. I’ve been doing a little collecting lately. Local artists. Nobody famous yet. But some really good stuff.”
“You’re an art collector?”
“Collector is a fancy word. I see things I like. They don’t cost too much. I buy them. Met some really interesting people in the process. You might like some of them.
“Could be,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table, placing her chin on the top of her folded hands. “Could be.”
“I’m not talking sex here, Tammy. There’s no hurry about jumping into the sack.”
“Sex is all right, Frank. Things work out, we can fit that in, too. So to speak.”
“Man. Oh, man.”
“Easy boy. Keep up with the dental hygiene and the improved dress code. Work on cutting down on the smokes.” She reached across the table and brushed his left cheek. “You don’t have to give up the smokes all at once if it hurts too much. Just work at it. Things might move ahead faster than you think.”
“Oh, man,” said Ryman, looking on the verge of a swoon.
“Was there something you wanted to tell me about the murder at Bernstein’s? You know. The reason you supposedly asked me out for this professional get-together?”
“Bernstein? Oh yeah. The Jewish gentleman with the financial news network.” Frank had slipped back into his smartass work mode. Which was just fine in Tammy’s way of thinking. He did good smartass cop.
“Meant to tell you. We got a break this morning. Two breaks, actually. Someone in Powelton caught sight of a person who was acting odd in the area where the Sankerson girl was killed. On the night she was killed. Could be the same person who’s Hamish’s killer. The witness is being interviewed now. Should have a description, at least a partial, by the time we get back to the office. Put that together with the tidbit we got from Leo Diamond after his lawyer cut a deal this morning, a deal that let Leo open up to us, we might be making an arrest this very evening.”
“Why evening? You got something more important to do this afternoon?”
“Oh, I could tell you something much more important I’d like to do this afternoon.” The second the words came out Ryman knew he’d made a mistake. So did his partner.
“Can’t stand to get ahead, can you,” she said.
“Sorry, Tammy. Truly. Older schmucks take longer to learn than young ones.”
“I’ll let it pass. This time. Why are we going to wait until this evening to cuff our killer?”
“Other stuff is going down here, Tammy. Things that will please you.”
“Great. Please me.”
“There’s a guy at Bernstein’s whose been really cooperative in this investigation. He’s fed me all kinds of background that helped me see where our investigation is going. Where it should be going.”
“You’re telling me, Detective Ryman, you’ve been working with an inside source at Bernstein’s and you didn’t tell your partner about this source before now?”
They were now firmly back doing police business. On the verge of a nasty disagreement about a case and their professional partnership. In view of the other partnership that was just beginning, both were very aware this could be touchy.
“O.K. Let me tell you how it is. Straight.”
“That would be nice, Frank.”
“I’ve got eight, nine more years in the department than you do. I’m a lieutenant who wants to be captain, deserves to be captain, for all kinds of reasons. One of them being that I can take care of you better if you’re willing to let me.”
Sensing a negative comeback, not wanting to come across as patronizing because that’s not how he saw this situation, Ryman raised a hand. “Let me finish. O.K?
Tammy nodded slowly. “Finish.”
“If Bernstein wins, if he takes over City Hall, which just now looks very likely given his money and the lack of popularity of the jerkinheimer who is our present mayor, there’s going to be opportunities for certain favored people in city departments to move up quicker than they otherwise would.”
Ryman paused.
“Go on,” said Tammy. No inflection in her voice. Giving away nothing.
“They’ve been doing their own investigation inside the company. They figure they have a good suspect. If that eye witness in Powelton comes through with a description matching this person, good suspect becomes very good suspect. I got it from my source in Bernstein that this guy, it is a guy by the way, is being carefully monitored to make sure he doesn’t do anything else that he shouldn’t until an arrest is made. Things play out the way we expect them to play out, we make the arrest, you and me, in a place and in a way that makes Mitch Bernstein look good for election purposes. Everybody wins.”
“What do you win, Frank?”
“I become a special liaison between the department and the new administration. That post comes with a temporary promotion to captain, The promotion becomes permanent first time there’s an opening in that ranking. Shouldn’t take more than a few months”
“Shit!” said Tammy. Furious now.
“I’m sorry, Tam. I’m really sorry. Should have told you the minute I was contacted. But believe me, my move up is not going to hurt you. Just the opposite.”
“You know, Frank, for guy who usually reads people and situations really well, you can be a first-class dickhead.”
“What? What?” Exasperation in his voice.
“You jump in bed with our mayor-to-be, and I just happen at exactly the same time to get in bed with you. Every promotion I get from here on, every step up, everything I honestly earn, is going to be tainted because everyone will think I’m getting it because you’re getting it. Thanks heaps, good buddy.”
She got up. Ryman caught her arm.
“Let go, Frank. I mean it.”
“Please, Tammy. Please. Please.”
He released his grip. She looked down at him. That look on his face. The Lassie puppy look. She sat.
“Let people think whatever they fucking well want to think You’ll move ahead because you’re a good cop. You can cut it. I know that. You know that. Anyone who thinks otherwise, fuck ‘em.”
He pushed ahead. “I saw my chance, Tammy. I’m taking it. It’s good for both of us. I really believe that. We go good together. Think about it. Please. That’s all I ask.”
They were quiet for awhile. Working things through. Sipping their coffees.
Ryman: “I figure we’ll make the pinch 8:30, maybe nine tonight. Oh, you’ll like this. My contact at Bernstein’s has it set it up so the pinch goes down at the home of a friend of ours. Philly’s favorite freelance intellectual. Bernie Kahn.
Though MarySue Lamont was certainly vain, self-centered and not infrequently
foolish, she was by no means stupid. When motivated by work, or by the appearance of an unexpected opportunity to realize a substantial capital gain, she could be quite clever, even inspired.
After her conversation with the Jefferson development person who gave his name as Singletary, she took a longer than usual run and came back to her trinity refreshed and much more clear-headed. A hot shower washed away the remaining cobwebs. She then methodically straightened up her home-office and dressed with care in preparation to meet a client she had pegged as a very good placement prospect.
While performing these exercises, ablutions and arrangements, her mind was going over the plan she hoped would encourage her next door neighbor to relocate. It was a kinky plan and one she figured probably wouldn’t do the job by itself. But she suspected that if Jefferson Hospital were as anxious to get Bernie out as Singletary had hinted, her efforts were part of a larger effort that would soon have a favorable outcome.
MarySue wanted to listen to the CD immediately. The CD she was reasonably sure would have her next door neighbor bouncing off the walls. Literally. First, though, she had to focus on this client get-acquainted session.
Hers was a tough racket that didn’t reward the lazy. Executive search specialists, head hunters, can make substantial commissions if they place the right people in six figure job slots, but doing this is far more complicated than most people imagine.
You have to find the right candidates and sign them up as clients. You have to constantly interface with human resource people at companies that pay the big salaries, nurturing these relationships in and out of the office, and never forgetting one when Christmas rolls around. You have to massage candidates’ resumes, offer grooming and manners tips so they come across well when they meet with people in a company who make initial winnowing decisions, and do the follow ups so they come across even better when they meet those who make the final hiring decisions.
The business is a lot like selling real estate. Things could go very quickly and easily and big commissions could fly through the door. Or the right positions might not be open, MarySue might not get a shot at filling those that did open, hiring decisions could be delayed and drag on endlessly, or wonderful fills with great commissions could fall through at the last minute because of internal company decisions that had nothing to do with her own efforts or her candidate’s qualifications.
Her candidate today seemed good on paper and sounded very good on the phone. He could be right for a position at a local drug firm. And just now, after several months of very few placements, she really needed a closer.
He would arrive in a few minutes and she would see what she would see. She had gone through her own check list and felt confident that everything on her end was prepared. There was a bit of free time now in which to listen to the CD she thought would help get Bernie Kahn out of her life and some much needed cash into it.
She turned on the CD player, volume low. At first she winced at the sounds coming from the machine. Winced the way she did when she’d first heard this CD. But as the salacious, and she had to admit, the rather ridiculous sounds continued to flow, she began to smile and finally laughed aloud.
Oh, yes. This would do the trick. A few hours of this every night and Bernie Kahn will be on his way.
