Free Killerfest by Lawrence de Maria Page B

chieftains and power brokers who made the restaurant their New
York home away from home over the years.
    “I’m sharing
an apartment with a woman on 82nd Street.”
    “Jesus, Noah.
That’s quick work, even for a West Coast hotshot like you.”
    “Not really.
Do you remember that French policewoman, the one who was assigned to Interpol
in Paris when I was doing some liaison work?”
    “Don’t tell me.”
    “Yes. She’s
moved to New York on an assignment with the United Nations. Minimum of two
years.”
    “As I recall,
you were merely exchanging Christmas cards.”
    “Yeah. And in
the last one she included a note about her divorce.”
    “I’m happy for
you, Noah. That calls for another martini.” Scarne signaled the waiter, who
reached for the Grey Goose bottle. “I’d like to meet her. ”
    “You will,
soon as I’m settled in. How’s your love life?”
    Scarne smiled.
    “Well, it’s
just taken a turn for the worse, but I’m always hopeful.”
    Scarne told
him about Emma’s move and the Quimper assignment.
    “So, Randolph
doesn’t want his daughter anywhere near you when the bomb goes off.”
    “Gee, Noah, I
hadn’t thought about it that way. Thanks.”
    “How serious
do you think the threat is?”
    “I’d say
somebody really wants to make a run at Quimper. And if the hit in Pennsylvania
is any indication, the bad guys know what they are doing. Whether anything will
happen during the Killerfest is the question. It may be too obvious; too
similar to the Arhaut murder. A potential assassin would have to figure that
security will be tight. It would be better to wait a while until Quimper lets
his guard down. Or maybe they just want to keep him, and other writers,
intimidated. Remember how long Salman Rushdie had to lay low. But the threats
you ignore always seem to be the ones that bite you in the ass.”
    Their table
was ready. Scarne ordered a bottle of Château Vieux Maillet bordeaux and they
politely listened to the specials before both deciding on Caesar salads to be
followed by “Chef Greeley’s Signature Mixed Grill of Game (elk,
chocolate-rubbed venison, rabbit sausage, bacon-wrapped wild boar) with
sauerkraut and apple purée.”
    “How come
every time we have dinner together,” Sealth said, “we endanger a few species. A
wolverine would love this menu.”
    “It’s our
Indian genes. I almost asked for everything raw.”
    They spent the
next hour eating and catching up.
    “This food is
exceptional,” Sealth said at one point. “I thought the 21 Club was a cliché.”
    “A cliché with
a solid kitchen,” Scarne said.
    “I’m thinking
about going into your racket.”
    “Private
investigation?”
    “Yeah. You’ve
made a go of it. How hard can it be?”
    Scarne
laughed, thinking about his last two major cases, during which he was almost
consumed by an crocodile and thrown off a skyscraper.
    “Got to find
something to do,” Sealth continued. “Carry my weight. The pension won’t cut it.
How long would it take to get licensed?”
    “With your
background, a few weeks. You can work out of my office, in the conference room.
The paperwork is a bitch. But Evelyn knows all about the process, the bonding,
the permits. You’ll need references from your old life, and some from people
here, but I can help with that.” Scarne smiled. “I might even give you one
myself.”
    “I appreciate
that, Jake.”
    “Forget it.
Least I can do for my new partner.”
    “Partner?”
    “Sure. Do you
think I want some Seattle super sleuth setting up as a rival stealing all my
clients? I have to be able to keep an eye on you.”
    “You probably
want to meet your quota for hiring minorities. With me you get African-American
and Native-American.”
    “I don’t
suppose you cross-dress or anything?”
    “Sorry.”
    “Damn. That
would fill three slots. Well, let’s give it time. This is New York, after
all.”  
     
     

 
    CHAPTER 11 – BOOK LEARNING
     
    The next
morning Sealth met Scarne at