Copp In Deep, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series) (20 page)

They say, live by the sword and you'll die by it.

This guy had died by the needle.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I confronted
Cherche
in her private sex parlor and told her, "We've hit the bottom line here, old friend, so your life probably depends upon how well you can forget your vow of discretion and get down to raw truth. I've called a bomb squad out here. They'll be arriving any minute and you've got to fully cooperate with them. This place could be wired for destruction and I'm guessing the timing would be midnight while the party is in full swing. Meanwhile I want you to get everybody out and keep them out until it's declared safe. Are you following me?"

Her eyes were looking a little wild but the mental composure was still in place as she replied, "My goodness, darling, what a terribly devious mind you must have. Why would someone want to blow up my beautiful home?"

"Well it won't be a disgruntled neighbor," I assured her. "Sorry, darling, but you've been very badly used by some highly unscrupulous people."

"I feared such," she declared quietly. "Is it Nicky?"

"Sure it's Nicky," I confirmed. "It's also the
PowerTron
trio and Angelique and Thomas Chase and maybe two or three other determined conspirators. It's all centered right here,
Cherche
my love, and that makes your joint ground zero. They've already built one crater to cover the lunacy. I doubt they'd hesitate to bury it all right here. So clear this place out, and do it quickly. Nobody packs, nobody pauses to refresh the makeup— got it? Get '
em
all out. I'll meet you outside."

She got it, and she went out quickly to spread the word.

I picked up the telephone and called the FBI. Took a couple of minutes to get through to Special Agent Browning and he came on angrily.

"Don't you ever rest,
Copp
?" he growled.

"Depends on what you call rest," I told him. "I need some info and I need it down, dirty, and quick. Do you have Toni
Delancey
under surveillance?"

There was just the briefest sense of indecision before he replied, "No, we've lost contact."

"Me too," I said, "but I think I've got a fix on her. She's booked out of LAX at midnight, Eastern flight to Washington. In case I don't get there in time . . ."

He said, "Thanks, appreciate the tip. What else do you have?"

"Frank
Dostell
is dead, I think."

Another brief pause, then: "Okay. Where is he?"

"Last I saw, he was dying behind the wheel of his

Ferrari in Malibu with a cop looking on. Looked like an OD."

"With a little help, maybe."

"Seems that way, yeah. Call the L.A. police, they can update you."

"Okay. What else?"

"What'd you find out about your safe house?"

"Simple timing device. Blast was centered in the crawl space under the house. They used enough TNT to blow up ten just like it."

"Overkill."

"Yes, to make damned sure. I'm pissed about this, Joe."

"You need to be."

"Yes. If it turns out that you're involved . . ."

"I'm not."

"... there'd be egg all over my face, and that would piss me too."

"Wouldn't blame you. To tell the truth, I'm just a bit pissed myself. Someone has been screwing me over, and I mean with a royal twist. Level with me, my life could depend on it. Has Toni
Delancey
been working with you?"

"No."

"That's the dead level."

"It's dead level."

"Someone in the woodpile, Browning, knew about your safe house."

"Obviously."

"I mean before that. Either Toni knew or Nicky knew. I need to know which it was."

"When you find out, share it with me." I said, "I'm betting on Toni."

"Sounds like an interesting logic, Joe, but I don't have time to pursue it right now. Have another death on my hands." "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Special Agent Vasquez bought it a while ago.

I said, "Damn! The numbers are all coming down, aren't they?"

      
"Looks like it." "How'd he go?"

"Shot in the head from behind. I'd had him on Toni
Delancey
, Joe."

I said, "Well
dammit
. . . !"

"Yeah. Keep in touch, will you?"

"I'll try," I promised. "See you at the airport maybe."

"Maybe," he said, and hung up.

I went in and tore
Cherche's
boudoir apart. Looked in every drawer, searched every surface, under every cushion and even under the mattress, behind every painting and inside every vase and light fixture.

Found many interesting things but left them all exactly as they were, got the hell out of there quick. The joint deserved to blow. Old friends or no, that place needed burying.

      
I stayed around to assist the bomb squad in what small way they would allow. Told them about the earlier blow in Brentwood Park and they had a telephone conference with the people who'd investigated that one, started their search beneath the house. Basements are a rarity in Southern California and this house was no exception. The foundations were about four feet off the ground, though, so the crawl space was pretty good and these guys knew their business. Took them less than thirty minutes to locate four different bundles of dynamite wired to a single timer, less time than that to defang it and get it all out of there.

The sergeant in charge of the squad showed me the timer—set for midnight, as I'd suspected—and told me that any one of the dynamite bundles would be enough to blow the place to kingdom come. I made arrangements to meet with him the next day and sign a statement. His men made a thorough sweep of the house and were on their way by ten o'clock.

Cherche
wanted to cancel the evening's activities but I prevailed upon her to pick up and go on as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened there. She also agreed to telephone Nicky and invite him to a "special party" in her apartment at eleven-thirty, after which I took the phone and spoke to him.

"Hi Nicky, it's Joe
Copp
. Wanted to let you know that I'll be at the party, and maybe I'll have a little surprise for you."

"If it is what I am thinking, Joe . . ."

I said, "Yeah, you got it. Think I've found your missing property."

"Why don't you just bring it over here."

"Can't do that because it's not in my hands yet. I've arranged to pick it up at midnight."

"Perhaps we could pick it up together."

"Wouldn't work that way," I told him. "It's very delicate business. I'll get it and bring it straight to
Cherche's
."

"Why can't you just bring it straight to my apartment?"

I said, "No, I prefer neutral ground for this transaction."

"Transaction?"

"I don't work for free, Nicky."

"How much will it cost me to ransom my own property?"

I said, "You're looking at it all wrong. No ransom involved. Call it a finder's fee. Bring ten thousand U.S. Bring cash."

"This is highly important to me, Joe. Suppose . .."

"It's important to both of us," I agreed. "Suppose what?"

"Why don't you let me send
Ilyitch
to back you up."

"No way," I said. "Sorry, I have to do this my way. I want you and
Ilyitch
and the other boys at
Cherche's
by eleven-thirty. I'll be in touch by telephone and when
Cherche
tells me you're there, I'll go ahead with the pickup."

"You are quite determined in this."

"You got it."

"Very well. But let's make an alternative plan in case our meeting goes astray."

"It won't," I assured him. "I'll be there shortly after midnight."

"But just in case, Joe. One could experience a traffic accident, a flat tire, these things happen. So as to not leave me in suspense . . . can we not say that we will meet elsewhere at a given time should the first meeting fail?"

I said, "Okay. If we don't connect at
Cherche's
, meet me at two o'clock in the lobby of the Beverly Hilton."

"Could we not just set it up that way at midnight?"

"Huh-uh. I'll have to know exactly where you're at before I go for the pickup. I trust
Cherche
to tell me where you're at."

Nicky was a bit dissatisfied with those arrangements but I left him no alternative. I also wanted something else from him.

"Now let's talk about Angelique. I want to know exactly what was the last thing she said to you."

"I don't understand, Joe. What does Angelique have to do with our arrangement?"

"Maybe nothing, maybe everything. I don't know exactly what I might be walking into, see, and I don't want to blow this thing because of some simple misunderstanding. The last thing she said to you."

"I believe it was 'good night,' Joe."

"Just before that."

"Let me see... she said that she would be in touch."

"About what?"

"Nothing in particular."

"She wasn't trying to work anything on your behalf?"

"I don't understand what you are getting at."

"You dropped her off in Brentwood Park at about two o'clock. You watched her enter a white cottage with brick planters. Was she going into that house to accomplish some task for you?"

"Not that I would know about."

"Did she tell you why she wanted to be dropped there?"

"No."

"You weren't even curious about it?"

"Perhaps I was curious. But one does not question a lady about her late night appointments."

"Was she carrying anything?"

"Carrying? In her arms?"

"Arms, hands, whatever. Was she taking something into that house?"

"You place me in a bad position, Joe."

"Not nearly as bad as the one I'm in. What did she take in there, Nicky?"

He paused for perhaps ten seconds before replying, "We had spent the evening searching for a rather infamous character who . . ."

"
Dostell
?"

"Yes. When we discussed this earlier, I felt rather constrained from speaking freely to you of this matter, but ... is it tremendously important to you?"

"I think it is," I told him.

"Very well. The search for
Dostell
was on the behalf of Angelique. She desired very much to find him and to purchase something from him. We found him. She asked me to effect the purchase on her behalf. I did so. Then she asked me to drop her at Brentwood Park."