trouble.”
“I always told him to make sure to report all the cash.”
“I’m sure you’re the one who kept him in line. But some of his clients were drug dealers, maybe?”
She shrugged. “As they say, everyone’s entitled to legal representation.” She said it as though she didn’t mean it.
That sounded like a confirmation. “Joan, my father was in possession of a significant quantity of cash, and I’m trying to figure out where it might have come from.”
Her nostrils flared. “Are you asking if I held on to money I wasn’t entitled to? Because I resent the implication—”
“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m wondering whether he might have been given a lot of money to keep for someone else.”
She looked away, peering off into the middle distance. She was silent for ten, fifteen seconds. She inhaled. For the first time, Rick became aware of the muted ticking of the mantel clock. Finally she said, “Your father was a wonderful man with a big heart.”
“I know.”
“You know, things . . . they don’t always turn out the way you want. He might have done some things he wasn’t proud of. Let’s leave it at that. There’s no use in rehashing the past. What’s done is done, and that was a long time ago.”
“I’m only asking for his sake.”
She shook her head slowly. “Your father always tried to protect me. He didn’t tell me everything.”
“You were the one person he confided in.”
She hesitated. “He never confided in me. And I’m sure there were some things he wouldn’t want
you
to know about either.”
“You and I both want the same thing,” Rick said. “To protect Len. Because he’s not able to protect himself. But if I’m going to really protect him, I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
She expelled a long, rattling sigh. “Look, it’s a dirty business, this—this world. The adult entertainment industry, I mean. You know, the police and the city inspectors, they were always shaking down those places for bribes. Massage parlors, you know—lot of times they had to give the cops . . . sexual favors to keep from getting hit with code violations. Sometimes just cash. Shakedowns, that’s all it was.” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign of filthy lucre.
“So I’m not sure I understand. Dad handed out payoffs to city officials and cops?” The term for that kind of thing was
bag man,
Rick thought. His father was a bag man.
He thought about his father’s reproach when he published the plagiarism exposé in the high school newspaper:
You didn’t play by the rules, Rick
.
What were the rules that Lenny was playing by?
She hesitated. “That’s how it started. Money went to the liquor board, public health, fire department, all that . . .”
“We’re talking maybe a couple of hundred bucks here and there, I’m guessing.”
She nodded. “Or more in some cases. With the bigger strip clubs. Lenny just sometimes had to go in and grease the wheels. I guess he came to be known as—well, as a guy who got things done. He was really good at sorting out disputes. Private arbitration, you might call it. He was what you’d call a fixer.”
“Was it mostly city officials he paid off?”
“Not just. If someone wanted to build a nightclub and the owner of the neighboring building was being difficult, he’d, you know . . .”
“Pay off the owner.”
A shrug. “He handled cash transactions between businesses, too. He’d meet clients for lunch at Locke-Ober’s or Union Oyster House and they’d give him envelopes or brown bags, and . . .” She closed her eyes, kneaded them as if she had a headache.
“The day of his stroke,” Rick said. “May twenty-seventh. Do you remember if he was supposed to deliver a payment to someone?”
She looked at Rick, squinting a
you can’t be serious
scowl. “May 27, 1996? You really think I can remember what he was doing on May 27, 1996? Do
you
remember what you
“I always told him to make sure to report all the cash.”
“I’m sure you’re the one who kept him in line. But some of his clients were drug dealers, maybe?”
She shrugged. “As they say, everyone’s entitled to legal representation.” She said it as though she didn’t mean it.
That sounded like a confirmation. “Joan, my father was in possession of a significant quantity of cash, and I’m trying to figure out where it might have come from.”
Her nostrils flared. “Are you asking if I held on to money I wasn’t entitled to? Because I resent the implication—”
“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m wondering whether he might have been given a lot of money to keep for someone else.”
She looked away, peering off into the middle distance. She was silent for ten, fifteen seconds. She inhaled. For the first time, Rick became aware of the muted ticking of the mantel clock. Finally she said, “Your father was a wonderful man with a big heart.”
“I know.”
“You know, things . . . they don’t always turn out the way you want. He might have done some things he wasn’t proud of. Let’s leave it at that. There’s no use in rehashing the past. What’s done is done, and that was a long time ago.”
“I’m only asking for his sake.”
She shook her head slowly. “Your father always tried to protect me. He didn’t tell me everything.”
“You were the one person he confided in.”
She hesitated. “He never confided in me. And I’m sure there were some things he wouldn’t want
you
to know about either.”
“You and I both want the same thing,” Rick said. “To protect Len. Because he’s not able to protect himself. But if I’m going to really protect him, I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
She expelled a long, rattling sigh. “Look, it’s a dirty business, this—this world. The adult entertainment industry, I mean. You know, the police and the city inspectors, they were always shaking down those places for bribes. Massage parlors, you know—lot of times they had to give the cops . . . sexual favors to keep from getting hit with code violations. Sometimes just cash. Shakedowns, that’s all it was.” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in the universal sign of filthy lucre.
“So I’m not sure I understand. Dad handed out payoffs to city officials and cops?” The term for that kind of thing was
bag man,
Rick thought. His father was a bag man.
He thought about his father’s reproach when he published the plagiarism exposé in the high school newspaper:
You didn’t play by the rules, Rick
.
What were the rules that Lenny was playing by?
She hesitated. “That’s how it started. Money went to the liquor board, public health, fire department, all that . . .”
“We’re talking maybe a couple of hundred bucks here and there, I’m guessing.”
She nodded. “Or more in some cases. With the bigger strip clubs. Lenny just sometimes had to go in and grease the wheels. I guess he came to be known as—well, as a guy who got things done. He was really good at sorting out disputes. Private arbitration, you might call it. He was what you’d call a fixer.”
“Was it mostly city officials he paid off?”
“Not just. If someone wanted to build a nightclub and the owner of the neighboring building was being difficult, he’d, you know . . .”
“Pay off the owner.”
A shrug. “He handled cash transactions between businesses, too. He’d meet clients for lunch at Locke-Ober’s or Union Oyster House and they’d give him envelopes or brown bags, and . . .” She closed her eyes, kneaded them as if she had a headache.
“The day of his stroke,” Rick said. “May twenty-seventh. Do you remember if he was supposed to deliver a payment to someone?”
She looked at Rick, squinting a
you can’t be serious
scowl. “May 27, 1996? You really think I can remember what he was doing on May 27, 1996? Do
you
remember what you
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