Chapter 4

When business was slow, which was all the time, Stern spent one day a week moving furniture to keep himself solvent, and today had been that day. The work was backbreaking, but the money was good. Going by his tax return, one would have to assume that he was a furniture mover by trade who dabbled in investigative work.

Today had been particularly exhausting, but at least the work had kept his mind occupied. Now, as he parked the van and dragged himself towards the dry cleaners, he was haunted by the growing conviction that Amanda wasn't going to show up at five with the money. He quietly opened the door and tried to shuffle inconspicuously towards his office, where he had a cold six pack waiting for him.

"Mr Stern!" Stern stopped in his tracks and looked around angrily. He was hot, sweaty, and thirsty, and he was in no mood to discuss his late rent payments.

"I'm very busy at the moment, Mr Han. Can it wait?"

For once Mr Han seemed ill at ease. "There is someone in your office waiting for you. She came by about two hours ago looking for you. She was very upset. Crying," he added in a softer voice, as if this was an embarrassing faux pas.

"So you let her into my office?"

"Yes. Perhaps that was presumptuous of me ... I'm sorry."

Mr Han looked worried, and Stern briefly considered pressing his moral advantage by pretending to be upset, but it wasn't really in his nature.

"Blond hair, big hooters?"

"That's correct," said the old man, his eyes narrowing with disapproval.

"OK. Thanks for warning me." He wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad sign.

She was sitting in his chair, leafing through a catalogue of camera and surveillance equipment, and she jumped to her feet when he came in, obviously flustered.

"Mr Stern! I'm glad you're finally back. I need to talk to you."

"Sorry you had to wait so long, Mrs Westphal." Stern almost didn't recognize her: she was wearing a simple top and shorts, no makeup, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were red and a little puffy, but he liked the casual look.

He collapsed into his just-vacated chair and opened the little refrigerator by his feet.

"Want a cold beer? I'm parched, myself." He sensed that she was nervous, and he was glad when she accepted a beer. After a few long pulls, he smiled at her and said "Whew — that hits the spot."

"Tough case?"

"Yep. A piano and a staircase with a ninety-degree turn. Don't make me relive it."

She looked a little confused, and took a sip of beer.

"I thought I said to come by at five."

"You did. But I wanted to see you as soon as possible." She put a shoebox on his desk. "Take a look at this."

What was this, five grand in singles? He took the top off the box. Inside was a small videocamera, held in position with duct tape. It was positioned to film through a small hole in the side of the box.

"I found it this morning in my husband's closet, aimed at the bed," she said. "He must have found out about me and Maria somehow. I bet he made copies for all his friends, too, the bastard."

"What about the five grand?" This was just to make conversation while he thought about the video camera. It had some very interesting implications.

"It's in my purse. But before I give it to you I want you to tell me what you think about this camera."

There was an unspoken plea for help in her big blue eyes, and Stern felt a little queasy shift in his gut. He had been attracted to her in a purely physical way from the beginning of course, but now that she was coming to him in this pitiful condition his male instinct to protect and comfort was fully engaged.

"All right. I don't think your husband is spying on you just for fun. And I don't think you do either."

"Then what?"

Stern thought it over. He knew what was going on, he could see the whole thing as plain as day. But he couldn't decide if he should get involved any further. It might be smart to just take the five grand and run.

"Let's say he was showing the tapes to people. Is there anyone you know who would be particularly upset, or embarrassed? Besides you, of course."

She thought about it, and then her eyes got very wide. "Oh my God ... my father!"

"I see," said Stern, gratified. "So your father is in a position to be embarrassed by the tapes."

"Embarrassed ... destroyed is more like it. My father is William Link. Amanda Link is my maiden name."

Stern whistled a long, low tone. "Well, that would explain it, all right."

"Explain what?"

"Your husband is blackmailing your father with the tapes," he said patiently.

"But that doesn't make any sense. We don't need my fathers money."

Stern mentally kissed the five grand good-bye. "This is going to come as a shock to you, I'm afraid. Your husband is being sued for malpractice, and he's nearly bankrupt. He also may lose his medical license."

"Bankrupt?" She took a few seconds to absorb this. "This hasn't been my day. I guess it serves me right for being greedy."

"You don't seem too upset on your fathers account," he observed. "This could ruin his campaign, you know."

"My father and I don't get along. We haven't spoken in six years." She gave a sudden laugh. "Can you imagine? He runs for governor on an anti-gay, anti-immigration platform, Mr Family Values and all that, and then a couple of weeks before the election videos of his daughter having kinky sex with her illegal-alien maid come out."

"I'm glad you can laugh about it." His admiration for Amanda Westphal was growing. "Why haven't you spoken to your father in six years, if you don't mind my asking?"

She took a sip of beer, and said "Well, things were never very good between us, from as far back as I can remember. But the real break came when I met and married Martin and started having plastic surgery. My father hated Martin's guts on sight."

"That must have been tough."

"Well, part of the reason I married Martin was to piss off my father. Nice basis for a marriage, right? So anyway, Martin talked me into having a whole lot of surgery — what amounted to basically a facial reconstruction. Along with some liposuction here and there, and the boobs of course."

"Oh, so you really do have implants?"

"Very funny. After the bandages came off we went to Daddy's house for a big Christmas party. He didn't know about the surgery, and when he saw me he didn't recognize me."

"That must have been awkward," said Stern, fascinated despite himself. "So you had to convince him it was you?"

"I went up to him and gave him a hug and a cheerful hello, and he grabbed my ass and started hitting on me. He had been drinking, I guess — God knows who he thought I was. His reputation for family values is a joke: he's actually a real womanizer. Instead of telling him right away, I led him on for a little while. It turned into kind of an ugly scene. We haven't spoken since."