while, sleep finally found me.
The next morning Raya was waiting for me in front of Bistro Janice in Ho-Ho-Kus, a small town in northeast New Jersey. No one is sure if the name is Hohokus or Ho Ho Kus or HoHoKus. Some people say that the name comes from a Native American word used by the Lenni Le-nape, who controlled this parcel until the Dutch started settling in 1698. But there is no definitive proof one way or the other, though that never stops the old-timers from arguing about it.
Raya wore dark jeans and a white blouse open at the throat. A killer. A total killer. Beauty has such an effect, even though I now knew what she was about. I was angry and had been conned and yet I couldn't help feeling an attraction and hating myself for it.
On the other hand, as beautiful and young as she was, I couldn't help thinking that she wasn't in Lucy's league. I liked feeling that. I held on to it. I thought about Lucy and a funny smile crept onto my face. My breathing grew a little shallow. It always had around Lucy. It was again.
Try to figure love.
"I'm so glad you called," Raya said.
"Me too."
Raya bussed my cheek. A subtle whiff of lavender came off her. We moved toward a booth in the back of the bistro. A striking mural of life-size diners, painted by the owners' daughter, took up one entire wall. All the painted eyes seemed to follow us. Our booth was the last one, under a giant clock. I had been eating at Bistro Janice for the past four years. I have never seen that clock set on the correct time. The owners' little joke, I guess.
We sat down. Raya gave me her best melt-'em smile. I thought about Lucy. It knocked away the effect. So, I said, you're a private eye. Subtlety wasn't going to work here. I didn't have the time or the patience for it. I kept going before she could start with the denials.
"You work for Most Valuable Detection of Newark, New Jersey. You don't really work for that Indian restaurant. I should have picked up on that when the woman at the desk didn't know who you were."
Her smile flickered but it stayed full wattage. She shrugged. "How did you figure me out?"
"I'll tell you later. How much of what you said to me was a lie?"
"Not much, actually."
"Are you still going to stick with that story about not knowing who Manolo Santiago really was?"
"That part was true. I didn't know he was Gil Perez until you told me."
That confused me.
"How did you two really meet?" I asked.
She sat back and crossed her arms. "I don't have to talk to you, you know. This is work product by the attorney who hired me."
"If Jenrette hired you through either Mort or Flair, you could make that argument. But here's your problem. You're investigating me. There is no way you can claim that Gil Perez could be work product on Jenrette or Marantz."
She said nothing.
"And since you feel no qualms about going after me, I will go after you. My guess is, you were not supposed to be found out. There is no reason why MVD needs to know. You help me, I help you, win-win, please add your own cliche."
She smiled at that.
"I met him on the street," she said. "Just like I told you."
"But not by accident."
"No, not by accident. My job was to get closer to him."
"Why him?"
John, the owner of Bistro Janice-Janice being his wife and chef- appeared at our table. He shook my hand, asked me who the lovely lady was. I introduced him. He kissed her hand. I frowned at him. He went away.
"He claimed to have information on you."
"I don't understand. Gil Perez comes to MVD-"
"He was Manolo Santiago to us."
"Right, okay, Manolo Santiago comes up to you and says he can help you find dirt on me." "Dirt is a bit strong, Paul." "Call me Prosecutor Copeland," I said. "That was your task, right?
Find something incriminating on me? Try to get me to back off?"
She did not reply. She didn't have to.
"And you don't have attorney-client privilege to hide behind, do you? That's why you're answering my questions. Because Flair would never let his client do this. And even Mort, as big a pain in the ass as he is, isn't this unethical. EJ Jenrette hired you guys on his own."
"I'm not at liberty to say.