I moved to Jane’s bench and placed an arm around her shoulder. She didn’t resist, just stared at the ground, her body clenched against an onslaught of tears. “Look,” I said gently, “I understand. You’ve got a good life going for you, then this crazy non sequitur comes along. I’m a stranger, but I’m all right, really. You can check me out. I was a police officer for six years. I got involved in this thing against my will, but now that I’m involved I’m going to see it through. But I need your help. Will you help me?” I relinquished my arm from her shoulders.
Jane looked up at me and smiled, then fumbled in her purse for cigarettes and matches. Her hands were shaking, so I lit her cigarette for her. She inhaled deeply and her whole body seemed to crash in acceptance as she exhaled. “I take it that smile implied consent,” I said. “Right?”
Jane stared at the ground and blew out another lungful of smoke. “Right,” she replied.
“Good.”
“Oh God, this is so fucking crazy! Look, I know you told me, but I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Fritz Brown.”
“Look, Mr. Brown—”
“Call me Fritz.”
“Okay. Look, Fritz, I haven’t seen my brother in five years or so. Apparently this hatred for Sol that he’s been harboring all these years has come to a head. Why now, I don’t know — you can’t expect a crazy man to act logically. The police were over at the house last night, talking to Sol. They told him the cause of the fire was arson. They asked him if he had any enemies, in business or otherwise. Sol said he didn’t know of any. Sol told me the police always suspect the owner of the business when the place of business burns down. You know, setting fire to the place for the insurance money, which is ridiculous in Sol’s case, because business was booming. But if you need help on this case and if you have circumstantial evidence pointing to Freddy, why don’t you just go to the police and tell them? Get them to handle it.”
“It won’t work. All my evidence is related to another case that was solved incorrectly over a decade ago. My evidence would be disregarded because it makes too many police agencies look bad. I know the cop mentality. If I persisted in trying to convince them, I might jeopardize my license and I can’t afford that. The only way to end this thing is for me to find your brother, arrest him, and secure a confession.”
“I believe you. I hate bureaucrats, for good reason.” Jane paused reflectively. “You said that you’ve investigated Sol. Then you probably know that a long, long time ago he was involved in the crime world. Big fucking deal. He told me about it. He never hurt anyone, but the cops and the district attorney hounded him, brought him up before the grand jury for nothing. Pure harassment. He almost got kicked out of Hillcrest because of it. So how can I help you?”
“First, some questions. Have there been any strange occurrences lately around your house? Strange phone calls? Someone calling, then hanging up when you answer? Any prowlers?”
“Nothing like that, but there has been something evil going on in the neighborhood, though I never connected it with Freddy. About a month ago there was a rash of animal poisonings. Someone was tossing poisoned hamburger into back yards. Four or five dogs and cats ate it and died. Our gardener’s dog ate some and got very sick, but lived. We called the police but nothing came of it. Do you think it could have been Freddy?”
“Maybe. Did your brother ever mention specifically where in Mexico he wanted to settle down?”
“Yes. Somewhere near Tijuana or Ensenada. Baja California. Not the real Mexico.”
“Did he ever mention a rich and powerful man that he was going to team up with? Maybe work for?”
“Yes. In his letters he was always mentioning a rich man who shared his anti-Semitic views. He was going to be this man’s partner. I put if off as pure fantasy.”
“Have you saved any of these letters?”
“I might be able to dig a few of them out of my wastebasket, if it hasn’t been emptied.”
“Will you try to find them for me?”
Jane put out her cigarette on the ground. “Yes,” she said.
“Good. I have to see Kupferman as soon as possible. Will you arrange a meeting?”
Jane was already shaking her head “no” vehemently. “That’s impossible, absolutely impossible, I can’t have him worried about what you’ve told me, at least not yet. The loss of the warehouse has worried him terribly. He’s not a young man, and he had a heart attack once. I’m afraid all of this will only...”
“It’s for his own safety. I just want to see if he can tie a few things together for me.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t allow it. Please back off on this for now. Sol has a bodyguard with him now, keeping watch on him and the house. I’m sure we’ll both be safe.”
It was a big setback, but I decided not to press the issue. I changed the subject slightly. “Has the fire hurt Sol financially?”
“Not terribly. His insurance covered everything. He’s still a very wealthy man. He has lots of other holdings, stocks and real estate. But the fire has hurt him emotionally. He loved his business and his customers and the people who worked for him. It will take a year to get it set up again. Sol is such a conscientious man. He cares so deeply. What a mess!”
We were silent for a few moments. Jane fingered the rich wood of her cello. “How do you feel, Jane?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I believe what you’ve told me, but another part of me is standing outside of it all, saying it can’t be happening. Do you think Freddy is in Los Angeles?”
“No, I think he’s run to Mexico. I’m going down there in a day or so to bring him back.”
“Be careful.”
“I will be. Look, what are your plans for the next few days?”
“I don’t know. Practice, of course. Keep an eye on Sol, see that he doesn’t fret too much about the insurance negotiations. I know he’ll be spending lots of time with the claims people. Why?”
“I don’t know, I was just thinking aloud. Would you like to go to the Hollywood Bowl tonight? I’ve got a box of four seats, practically right on stage. It might help keep your mind off this. It’s the Brahms First Symphony and Violin Concerto with Perlman. What do you think?”
“Are you asking me for a date?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
I fished the photostat of my P.I.’s license out of my billfold and handed it to Jane. “See,” I said, “the State Department of Vocational Standards says I’m a good guy, and if you want to check me out for a reference you can call Lieutenant Arthur Holland of the L.A.P.D. at the Wilshire Station. He’ll tell you I’m a sterling character. What do you say?”
Jane Baker sighed and smiled. “All right, Fritz. You’ve convinced me.”
“Great. We can get dinner, too. I know a great place. Shall I pick you up at seven?”
“That sounds fine.”
“In the meantime, please be careful and try not to worry okay?”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Good. Try to find those letters for me, will you? They might be important. I have to go now, I have errands to run. I know it sounds stupid, but everything is going to be all right. You can trust me.” Jane looked at me, unsmiling. I stuck my hand out to her and we shook gently. “Tonight at seven,” I said as I got up to leave.
Jane smiled. “I take it you already know the address,” she said.
“Of course. I’m a big-time detective.”
When I got home I did some telephoning: I called the starters’ desks at Bel-Air, Wilshire, Brentwood, Los Angeles, and Lakeside Country Clubs and inquired after Fat Dog Baker. I told the caddy masters that I was an insurance adjuster who had a juicy check for Fat Dog from a rich old man he had caddied for years ago. The old man had croaked and left Fat Dog a bundle for improving his putting stroke. Amazingly, they all believed me. Not amazingly, none of them had seen Fat Dog recently. That was good. I had my heart set on pursuit south of the border.