The wrap up

Peter Tolliver, looking his immaculate self, sat an hygienically safe distance from the interview room table, listening carefully to Houseman's charges. Bernie, eyes closed and hands cradling his extremely painful crotch where his bat had squashed important components, gritted his teeth with impatience.

"No objections there, Tolliver?" Houseman asked when he'd finished.

"You have been most professional, Detective. Right now I would like a few moments alone with my client?"

"Your privilege, counselor." Houseman stood, gathered his files and left the room. "Some of your old friends are still in residence, Bernie. I'm sure they'll be glad to have you back."

Tolliver placed a soft hand on Bernie's shoulder in restraint and after Houseman left he sighed. "I believe I cautioned you against this kind of behaviour, Bernie."

"Cut the crap, Peter, what can you do?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. You had hired guns commit murder. You battered one of them to death yourself, and you kidnapped and attempted to murder another woman. At the very outside you will be finishing your life inside, Bernie. Be thankful we don't have the death penalty."

Bernie's eyes came around to meet his lawyer's. "Hundreds of thousands I've paid you over the years and you tell me I'm lucky to get just LIFE!"

"Bernie, I told you." Tolliver shrugged.

"Get outta here you leach. I don't wanna see you again."

"We can talk late—"

"GET OUT!"

●○●○●○●○●

"Where's Nora?" I asked, as Houseman told me to sit down and keep quiet.

"She's already been processed."

"Jesus, Paul, that sounds like you made her into some kind of lunchmeat."

He leveled his gaze at me and reminded me that lunchmeat might have been exactly what Nora and I could have become, behaving the way we did. I picked at the edge of his desk and held my tongue then changed the subject.

"I would say Mr. Bonducci is displeased with the advice he's getting." I drummed my fingers on Houseman's desk and glanced at the detective.

"You think? We need better insulation in this joint, although it did provide the answer to Jorge Starkman's whereabouts. Or at least his fate." He riffled through some papers and then jogged them together and slipped them into a thin file.

"That Bernie's?"

"Yep." He pulled out a much thicker one and dropped it with purpose on his desk. "And this is yours, Wallace."

"Wow! I'm impressed."

"We'll see." He picked up a page and read quietly for a few moments. "It is quite a list of activities. Illegal parking—"

"Oh please." He continued and my mouth fell lower and lower as he continued.

"Destruction of private property. Facilitating financial fraud. Obstructing justice by withholding information in an investigation. Attempted blackmail of a known criminal. Assault on two separate individuals and finally accessory to murder."

"You are kidding me. Illegal parking?"

"Does this file look like I'm kidding, Wallace?"

"Jesus, Paul, c'mon. I'll cop to illegal parking and- and withholding information but accessory to murder and fraud! I was working a case for cryin' out loud. I didn't kill anybody and I didn't defraud anybody."

I was getting worked up, and his calm demeanor didn't help. "And I didn't damage any private property." I added with a pout.

"I did say they were activities, Wallace, not charges. You happen to have a pretty powerful person in your corner by the name of Bravo. He has assured me that if necessary he will align a battery of lawyers against any prosecution we tender against you."

If possible, my mouth dropped further. "His offer extends to Karen Winsett as well, although she really didn't reach a point of actual criminal activity... except maybe her rather concise handling of Bernie's employee, Zeet Walowski." Houseman smiled. "He is actually in hospital getting anti-inflammatory treatment. He's lucky actually. All he's wearing is the damage to Ellington's house and his neighbour's fence when he gets out."

"What about Ellington himself? He fired that shotgun at the guy."

"Self defense and it wasn't anything fatal or even serious. Just one hell of a shock I'll bet."

"And the trust business?"

"Devers is getting saddled with that. There's no way to prove Ellington touched it at all."

"Smithee knew."

"Yeah, well what with his other problems I don't see him trying to pull Ellington down with him. He smiled to himself and I felt puzzled.

"So then that leaves him, Lawrence Bravo, Jarmon and Cynthia Wyatt."

"Jarmon's still in hospital. He extended his stay when he fell out of the bed reaching for one of the nurses and broke a leg. Lawrence Bravo has been asked to resign from the company and has locked himself in his home. Word is he's suffering some kind of terror trauma, post Zeet Walowski's visit. He only deals through lawyers. We don't want him for anything anyway; he's the same as your Karen, nothing criminal, just stupid."

The smile returned. "Cynthia Wyatt and Smithee, now there's a weird situation. Along with Bernie, he's dead bang for accessory to the murder of Reg and Julie Devers, but he and Cynthia are clinging to one another like moss to a rock.

"What!"

"True. We found them together in her apartment, not a pretty sight. The place was a mess of discarded clothing, slopped booze, broken furnishings and when we found them they were stuck together half under the kitchen table. It seems they 'discovered' one another while in the middle of a raging argument. Neighbours finally complained to the management and they called us."

"You mean they...?"

"I do, Wallace. That's what I mean. I think they're both suffering from a loss of marbles but then who knows. I do know that a psychiatrist at St. Wilma's is treating her. All she could say when we picked them up was his name, over and over."

"Jesus." I pictured Cynthia that day in her condo, and then Carleton and I shook my head. "So then... am I free to go?"

Houseman looked at the file and sighed. "I could make some of these activities into charges, Wallace but then I would have to sit and listen to your whining longer than I care to. In light of the fact that we are now minus a few more bad guys and their leader is pretty much facing the rest of his life inside..."

"And I have a very traumatized wife to care for." I broke in.

"Right." He gave me a weary look. "She filled out all her paperwork then left, and later called me from her office and told me to tell you, trauma aside, she hoped to be home for dinner by eight."

"I see." I stood feeling definitely awkward.

"Lose the hat, Wallace... and behave yourself." He stuck out a hand and we shook. After letting myself out of the office I decided to go to the hospital and visit Rory, at least he never objected to my hat.

●○●○●○●○●

The desk nurse pointed out his new room in recovery and I walked in to find him watching old movies on TV. He brightened at my presence and shut off the program, holding out a hand.

"How's my favourite P.I.?"

"How are you, more to the point?"

"I'm good, Christopher. A few ugly little holes but nothing fatal. I got the slugs so they'll have a place of honour behind the bar. Might even add to the legend I've become."

"In your mind." I pulled up a seat and stared at my old friend. "I'm so sorry about this, Rory. I never dreamed that things would go so wrong."

"I think I mentioned it once or twice, pal."

A nurse came in, plumped his pillow and handed him his meds. Rory stared at her and flapped his tongue. "A little Chianti and some fava beans would go nicely with these."

She giggled and pointed at him. "Hannibal!" Rory grinned.

"Jesus, not here too?" I hung my head.

"He's been entertaining all of us since he arrived." She patted his hand and waddled out.

"I can imagine. I guess commiserating is a waste of time. You must be in your glory with an audience like that."

"Talent tells, Wallace old boy. Talent tells." He finished the water in the little cup and folded his hands over his stomach. "What happened to the guy that shot me?"

"Jorge. Not positive but their thinking is Bernie lived up to his nickname. Probably won't ever find him or the Devers."

"Nora's okay? Houseman told me she was grabbed by Bernie."

"Houseman told you? What, are you on the force now?"

"I did a little Jack Webb for him when he was here and he got a kick out of it. Kept me in the loop."

"Marvelous. I work my ass off and you get the inside scoops with a few questionable imitations."

"I'm just glad she got out okay." His eyes welled and he turned away.

I nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Get well soon, partner." I heard a painful imitation of Jimmy Stewart following me down the corridor as I left.

●○●○●○●○●

The apartment was dark when I got home and I kicked myself for not picking up something from the deli, it wasn't likely there would be anything safe in the fridge. I hit the light in the living room and saw a card standing on the TV. I picked it up and chuckled in surprise. Karen had sent a rather nice sentiment to Nora about her ordeal with Bernie. Who would have guessed she was the type to send cards.

I wandered out to the kitchen. The cupboards were bare. The fridge was pretty much bare except for a few mysterious packages and the storage shelf in the laundry room held a solitary can of asparagus soup. Not tonight. I closed the door and slumped forlornly down to the bedroom, flicked on the light, and felt my heart leap into my mouth.

Ensconced in the middle of our bed, Nora posed sexily in a very, very naughty garter belt and teddy.

"Nice of you to finally join me, big boy." Her delivery smacked of Mae West and I wondered if she had been to visit Rory too.

My mind couldn't muster anything intelligent to say so instead I just ripped off my clothes and dove onto the bed, bouncing over onto my back and taking her face gently in my hand.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Wallace, and thank you very much for the thoughtful and provocative outfit."

"A little birdie told me." She leaned down and kissed me slowly and tenderly, the slippery material of the teddy warm on my chest.

I flashed on the card on the TV. A little birdie, eh, I can just imagine who that was.

THE END