Chapter 7
On Thursday morning we slept in until 9:30 AM and Kelly was extra attentive, perceiving that our relationship had gone to the next level with the meeting of my parents. She made crab omelets and asked a lot of questions about what my mom was like at various stages of my development.
I found a parking spot two blocks from my office and checked my watch just before walking through the door. It was 11:33 AM. As I entered Duffy Investigations, the first thing I saw was a file cabinet lying sideways on the carpet. I pulled my gun and stepped into the reception area. My heart sank. Lying on the floor was Jeannine with a gag in her mouth and her hands and feet tied together. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist and my first thought was that she had been raped.
When she heard the door open, she let out a muffled scream. She had her back to me and probably thought the perpetrators had returned. When she realized it was me, she started to cry. I removed the gag, untied her and held her as she hyperventilated and went into a panic attack. I found her prescription for Xanex in her purse and gave her a double dose. After about five minutes she was calm enough to talk. In the meantime I called the police.
“I look awful! I know I look awful!” she exclaimed between gasps.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Two men in black ski masks came in right after 9:00. They pointed guns at me and asked who else was here,” she gasped. “I think I said, ‘nobody’ but I’m not sure. Then they tied me up, put a gag in my mouth and searched the office. They took both of our computers.”
“Did they hurt you or do anything to you?” I asked, preparing myself for the worst.
“Yes! It was horrible!” she screamed and again started to cry.
In as calm a voice as I could muster, I said, “If you’ll tell me what they did I can help you when the police get here.”
After stammering a couple of times she said, “The big one grabbed me by the arm and smudged my blouse. I tried to struggle, but the little one pulled my hair by my French braid and said if I didn’t shut up he was going to tie the braid around my neck and hang me from the ceiling fan.” Her hands began to shake.
“Then what happened?”
“They tied me up and threw me on the carpet.”
“Did they do anything else to hurt you?” I asked. She nodded and her chin quivered uncontrollably. “What?”
“They broke my nail!” she blurted out as she held up her middle finger, flipping me off.
I sat with her and waited for the police. I guess her skirt hiked up as she struggled to get free.
A squad car arrived about ten minutes after I called, and the officers made sure we didn’t touch anything until the place could be dusted for prints. We learned from Jeannine that the perps wore gloves, so the cops let me walk around to see if anything else was missing besides the computers. About a half hour later Walter Shamansky made his entrance. He spoke with the patrolmen, then made his way into my inner office where he found me looking at a group of files thrown across the floor.
“You really ought to consider hiring a cleaning service. The slovenly look doesn’t cut it in La Jolla,” he said.
“This was the work of the Russians. I’m sure.”
“How do you know?”
“They took everything relating to the case, including all of Cory’s photographs. Nothing else appears to be missing,” I said. “Is there any chance of getting a search warrant for Cerise’s office?”
“I think the chances are pretty slim that they’d bring everything back to the office. If we get a warrant now and come up with nothing, it will be three times as tough to get another one on this case.”
“So what are you going to do?” I felt my adrenaline pumping. “My receptionist was assaulted at gunpoint, my office was robbed, and we have a very good idea of who did it.”
“While you were in here I asked your gal if the perps had accents.”
“And?” I asked.
“Red-blooded Americans, both of them.”
“What about the parade of hired guns Cory photographed going into Cerise Records on Monday? It could have been a couple of those guys.”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think so. From everything I’ve learned so far, Koflanovich is a careful man. I can’t picture him running an open casting call for a robbery.”
I had to admit that Shamansky made a lot of sense. As I calmed down, my brain started functioning again.
“When I was at the Ukrainian Citizen’s Club most of the guys under 40 had no accent. I think they were the Chofsky clan from Tecate.”
“That listens,” Shamansky said. “Is this the branch of the family that’s been in the US for almost 100 years?”
“One and the same. In fact, I recently learned that John Koflanovich changed his name when he entered the United States. It was Ivan Chofsky.”
“All in the family,” he said. “I like it even better. But now the hard part is getting cooperation from Tecate PD. If we’re reluctant to get a warrant on Koflanovich, they’ll never approve one for a local company that employs recently discharged service men.”
“I know exactly how I’m going to pay you back that favor.” I then proceeded to give him the details of my plans for the weekend.
After the police left I told Jeannine I was hiring a bodyguard for her and the office.
“Not a stranger,” she said. I made a few suggestions, but none met with her approval. Finally, she said, “Delbert Henson.”
Fingernails scraped down a chalkboard in my mind. I could taste terrycloth in my teeth. Delbert Henson was in my therapy group with Jeannine for about a year. He suffers from delusions of grandeur. Every week Delbert would tell us a story where he ended up the hero. His self-lauding style and air of superiority made most of his fellow group members gag. They would tell him he was full of shit and get angry with him for making absolutely no effort to change. Jeannine never said a word about him in group or in individual therapy sessions. I always assumed she didn’t like him because he was about 100 pounds overweight, wore dirty T-shirts, and even dirtier sneakers to every session. He was the exact opposite of Jeannine.
“I think we need someone who is licensed to carry a gun. Somebody who understands police techniques and could actually defend you if these guys ever decide to come back,” I said in a boss-like tone.
“If you hire Delbert to protect me, I’ll clean up the office and keep coming to work. If not, I’m going to need a very long vacation. He still goes to the Center. He’s seeing Jake.”
“You’re not dating him are you?”
“I haven’t talked with him since we were in group together. But I know that if he’s here with me I’ll feel safe, like I do when you’re here.”
Hearing Jeannine equate me with Delbert Henson made my muscles flinch. Maybe it was the Xanex talking. She had just been through a terrible shock. But knowing Jeannine as I do, there would be no changing her mind now that she has taken a stand. It was either Delbert and Jeannine or no Jeannine. I owed her after what she had just been through.
“I’ll talk to Jake, but I’m not sure he’ll allow it,” I said, hoping I had found an acceptable out. Jeannine had always been good about obeying authority figures.
“If he says no I can always go on disability.”
Ouch. A Workers Comp claim for a business with one full-time employee would skyrocket my rates. I’d also have to pay for a temp while she was out. But more importantly, Jeannine knew everything that was in the missing computers. Also, I felt an obligation as her former therapist to keep a close eye on her mental health after going through today’s ordeal.
“If Delbert is willing and Jake doesn’t have me committed for suggesting the arrangement, I’ll ask him to start in the morning on one condition.”
“What?” she asked with a pout.
“When I’m in the office, Delbert patrols outside.”
“That would be OK,” she said.
I spent the rest of the day helping Jeannine put the office back together. I decided to bring in my home computer. On it I kept a brief summary of each day’s events since the start of the case. I also called my sister and arranged to borrow one she kept in her garage.
It had been one week since I was hired and time to find out if I was going to continue the investigation. I called Chelsea and gave her a summary of the week’s events, including the break-in, the robbery, and the shooting. When I finished I asked, “Do you think I’ve shown enough progress to remain on the case?”
“Am I still the prime suspect?” she asked.
“You are,” I replied, “but SDPD is now very aware of the suspicious and criminal activities of Cerise Records.”
“I’ll retain you for another week, Mr. Duffy, but patience is not one of my virtues. I expect to be off of the suspect list by this time next week if you want to continue the investigation.”