Murder Doesn't Figure. Fred Yorg
two hundred is fine.”
Just as we were settling up, the phone rang, “goddamn it, I don’t have time to argue, take the money.”
“All right, thanks Fred.”
I stumbled over to the phone just before the answering machine could kick in. “Hello.”
“Good morning Fred, this is Pamela.” Pamela was both my attorney and a close personal friend.
Over the years my sister and I had referred a large number of our clients, in need of legal help, to her.
When she had a client who needed financial help, she returned the favor. This was the way I liked to do business. My father taught me, that the only way do business was with people who were straight up, competent and fair, in short people that could be trusted. His favorite saying was, ‘In business you have a choice, you can make a dollar or you can make a friend. If you make enough friends, the dollars take care of themselves.’ Over the years, I had tried to follow the old man’s advice and had found in the long run, he was right. Life was too short to work with people you couldn’t count on or didn’t trust.
“What can I do for you, my dear?” I asked.
“Nothing, this call is all about what I can do for you.”
“Go on. You have my full undivided attention.”
“I have an eccentric client that lives up in Monmouth Hills, who needs a man of your questionable talents.”
“Specifically how eccentric a client and what questionable talents are we talking about?”
“Fred, to be honest with you I’m not sure,” she replied in a most curious manner.
“Come on Pam, you know I don’t like working on mysteries without any clues. It’s not like I’m the Spenser or Sam Spade of the financial world. I don’t like getting involved with strangers unless I know the whole story.”
“Fred, I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. You’ll think I’m crazy. Please, just meet me at my office around 11:30 a.m. and I’ll fill you in as best I can. Can I count on you?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. See you at 11:30.”
“Bye Fred and thanks.”
It was now closing in on 8 o’clock, and I was reflecting on the curious nature of Pamela’s call. It wasn’t typical of her at all. Then again, maybe at this hour of the day she wasn’t her normal self. Tuxedo, meanwhile, continued being his normal self, he still wanted to go out and he wouldn’t stop harassing me until he got his way. I knew that once I let him outside, he would immediately seek out the raccoon and although he didn’t know or care to admit, nothing good could come of that. Since I had three and one half hours to kill, I decided not to go into the office this morning. I went up stairs and changed, into my $700.00 Brooks Brother’s suit and lucky red tie. Little did I realize, I was going to need all the luck I could get before this day was through. While I was changing, I decided to kill some time by going over for a morning kick boxing class. I grabbed my gym bag, walked down the stairs and headed for the door. As I looked back over my left shoulder I could see the cat leering at me.
“Sorry Tux, you’re staying inside for your own good.” The cat’s expression never changed as he continued to glare at me.
Much to my surprise the mailman was at my mailbox delivering the mail. Delivering the mail is not that unusual an event, but at this hour of the day, it was nothing short of shocking. Aside from the usual assortment of bills and junk mail, I received a small box from BMG Music. My sister, Mary Jane, had given me a gift certificate for 5 tapes last Christmas. Thinking I would never find anything I liked, I had gift shifted the present back to her for her birthday in January. She was not amused at my gesture and forcefully suggested I order something from the catalogue.
Speaking of Mary Jane, she was just pulling up in front of my house. Mary Jane, a first class financial person in her own right had been working with me for the past ten years. Quite honestly, working with her had panned out better than I could have hoped for. She handled the tax clients and I handled the more exotic clients. The type of clients that needed help in the a whole host of areas, financial and otherwise.
“Good morning, beloved brother.”
Noting her pleasant tone and greeting, I immediately suspected the worst. She probably wanted money. “Good morning, Mary Jane, what do you want?”
“Now is that anyway to speak to your favorite sister?”
Since Mary Jane is my only sister, she had a point. Before I could respond she noticed the box of tapes in my right hand.
“Don’t tell me you actually ordered something? What did you get?”
“I got a Warren Zevon, Lou Reed, Maryann Faithful, John Hiatt, and Leo Kottke,” I replied.
“Who the hell are they, the only one I have ever heard of, is Lou Reed.”
There was no sense trying to explain who they were, Mary Jane was fifteen years younger than me. She grew up during the Disco years, depriving her and an entire generation of any musical tastes.
“Mary Jane, I’m not going into the office this morning, Pam set up an appointment for me with one of her eccentric clients over in Monmouth Hills, so don’t expect me till around 3:30 p.m.”
“Do you have any appointments scheduled?”
“No, it should be a quiet day, but I’m still counting on you to at least be there. Can you, manage that?”
“No problem, beloved brother, I’ll be there all day. Oh by the way can you spare a twenty, I’m broke.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I strolled over to the sports car and threw my gym bag into the passenger side of the Triumph.
Then I walked around and slid into the driver’s seat of the sports car. This was quite a chore for a man who was 6'4" and weighed close to 250 pounds. Most of my friends marveled that I could, or would even want to get into a small car like this. But actually, the car was quite comfortable. It was sort of like lying down on a couch with four wheels. Plus, I looked so damn good in it.
I turned the ignition key and the car purred. As I backed the car out of the driveway and pointed it towards Red Bank, I took note on what a beautiful spring morning it was.
On the ride down to Red Bank, my mind drifted back to the conversation with Pamela. I couldn’t help but reflect on her curious comment about my questionable talents. I must admit there was, a certain irony to her comment’s timing, since I was going to Dr. Chen Lue’s Kick Boxing Academy. Dr. Lue, was an expert on my questionable talents. I first met Lue about two years ago, when I took him on as a client and I can honestly say he was without a doubt “the client from hell.” To start with, he hadn’t paid any payroll taxes for sixteen months; he had never filed his state and federal tax returns; he was an illegal alien; and to top it off, Lue was on the hook for a serious amount of money that he borrowed from an unsavory Asian loan shark. Lue of course, solicited my services at the last possible moment. In fact, both the state and the IRS were one step away from padlocking his place and putting him out of business.
Once I took Lue on as an account, I really was forced to call on a host of questionable talents. In rapid fire succession I was able to address all of Lue’s financial problems. The first order of business was the payroll tax issue. Lue had just enough money to make the full payment for the payroll taxes plus the interest and penalties. That out of the way, I turned my attention to the illegal alien status. I called on a State Senator, who I had previously consulted for, and asked him for a favor. Even though the Senator was in my debt, accomplishing my goal wasn’t as easy as I had originally envisioned. After an inordinate amount of arm twisting, I was able to sell the Senator on the idea that Lue could make a great contribution to the community, by setting up several programs for troubled youths. The Senator finally bought into it, and was actually