Read Online Coven by David Barnett - Free Book Online Page B

Jethro
Tull.”
    “ Of course. My apologies.”
Czanek grinned through a con man’s visage, a constant easy smile
and long hair pushed greasily off his brow. It was the smile,
Jervis realized, that told the genuineness of the man. Czanek was a
happy go lucky denizen. He lived with the sleaze and
despair that hid behind the world, yet smiled, somehow, in honest
happiness.
    “ Got a lot of poop on your
man,” he said. “It’s amazing what you can learn from a tag
number.”
    Jervis cringed to damp a sudden excitement.
This was either fast work or sloppy. “At a hundred fifty a day I
figured you’d milk me for a week at least. That’s what private
dicks do, isn’t it?”
    “ Only on divorce jobs where
the woman’s a looker,” Czanek said. “I don’t take clients for a
ride. It’s bad for business.”
    Some business. Jervis lit a Carlton. “Speaking of
business…”
    Czanek’s voice was soft yet rough, perhaps
by design. “Your man’s full name is Wilhelm Karl von Heinrich. His
father’s a developer from West Germany, very, very rich. The
Germans are investing tons of cash in the south coast, like the
Japanese in California.”
    “ Wilhelm Karl von
Heinrich,” Jervis muttered.
    “ The kid’s twenty six
years old. Got a degree from University of Bamberg, business. He’s
an instant in for his pop.”
    “ You got a
picture?”
    Czanek lay out a
stockholder’s brochure. Dozens of neat faces smiled up from a
glossy sheet of corporate members. One face was circled in red
marker, and read “Wilhelm Karl von Heinrich,” like letters on a
gravestone. This man is my epitaph, Jervis thought.
    He’d glimpsed Wilhelm only once, at a
distance, getting out of his white custom van. Now, though,
Wilhelm’s face smiled up in beyond belief handsomeness. Jervis
felt very sick all of a sudden. The face looked like something on a
GQ cover: square jaw, bright blue eyes, short blond, very Aryan
hair, perfect teeth.
    “ Pretty boy, huh, Mr.
Tull?”
    “ Don’t rub it in, Mr.
Czanek.”
    “ Sorry. Here’s a Polaroid I
snapped this morning when he left for the gym.”
    This was worse. Lover boy
in the parking lot. Blazing white shorts and sleeveless
T shirt with the words “Deutschland über Alles.” His legs
looked like shellacked oak pillars. Muscles gleamed in
too perfect symmetry. Lots of muscles.
    “ He’s six-two, according to
his license, a hundred eighty five pounds, and I don’t see any
fat. In real life, he looks bigger.”
    Jervis groaned.
    “ He’s renting a place just
out of town, to be close to the girl.” Jervis appreciated Czanek’s
courtesy. He never referred to Sarah by name. It was always “the
girl.” Jervis supposed it was a trait of Czanek’s profession to
depersonify a lost love. It made it less embarrassing.
    “ The address is here. It’s
about fifteen minutes off campus, a fourth floor apartment,
nice place. Lease expires September first.”
    Jervis cleared his throat. “You got a
schedule on the guy?”
    “ He works out regular at
Brawley’s Gym, ten until three every day. I got a look at the
sign in sheet.”
    “ What else? I need
more.”
    Czanek had more, plenty more. “He picks the
girl up at six every night. They eat out, go shopping, like that.
Then he brings her back to his place, or they go to hers.”
    Jervis lit another Carlton, finished the
first beer, and started the second. Czanek’s three day
surveillance was exemplary—it drove Jervis’ despair to new heights.
He’d asked for it, though. He’d asked for all of it.
    “ He’s been in the States
two years, got his citizenship right away. Two vehicles in his
name, a Porsche 911 and the white van. He buys a lot of stuff for
the girl. There’re some Xeroxes of his credit card invoices. He’s a
big spender, and…”
    “ What, Mr.
Czanek?”
    “ There’s one more thing I
don’t think you want to know.”
    “ What?” Jervis repeated.
“I’m not paying you to be my shrink.”
    Czanek removed