Chapter 28 #2
I said, “Did she hang out with anyone on her side of the room?”
“Hmm,” said Karski. “You know, Doc, now that I think about it, I don’t think so. The others were guys and they’d go out together but if they included her, I never saw it. Not that she seemed to mind. Just threw herself into her work, did that desk-straightening thing, and went home.”
“What aspect of the investigation did she work on?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” said Karski. “Which shows you how pathetic the whole thing was. We were given assignments by His Majesty and that’s what we stuck to. The Bureau was clear we shouldn’t make waves.”
Milo said, “What kind of assignments?”
“Ours was going through the numbers. We were all trained in forensic accounting.”
Milo said, “You said Martha interviewed POIs. So our guys worked the offender angle.”
“Your guys seemed to be doing some sort of fieldwork, because they were in the office a lot less than us. Come in, talk on the phone, leave. Sometimes they’d return, sometimes not.”
“But Martha spent more time in The Wasteland.”
“That she did,” said Karski. “From what I saw she mostly did desk work but occasionally I’d see her take someone into the interview room. So maybe the others trawled the POIs and handed the catch over to her.”
I said, “Given her homicide experience, that would make sense.”
“Maybe.” Karski edged forward. “As I’m talking about this my ignorance is starting to hurt. I mean here was a supposedly big-deal investigation and none of us really had an overall picture.”
I said, “Like the atom bomb. Built in Chicago, D.C., Manhattan, Lawrence Livermore, and other places. So no one would know too much.”
Karski laughed. “Excellent analogy, Doc, because this thing sure bombed.”
Milo said, “The people Martha interviewed. Any idea who they were?”
“I assumed employees of the firm. And Alberts’s wife, she came in looking miserable. They all did. But turns out Alberts was a one-man scam machine, no one else worked the fraud so no one got charged.”
Milo showed him a photo of Michael Heck.
Karski said, “Who’s that?”
“Heck.”
“Yeah, he was there. I remember him because he came in with a lawyer which made me wonder, Does this guy know he’s been a bad boy? But like I said no one materialized as a suspect except Alberts.”
“Who was the lawyer?”
“Some female. Cute, looked too young to be practicing but she had that lawyer look about her—scanning the room, accusatory looks. You know, lawyer bullshit.”
Milo scrolled his phone but I was already there with mine, showed him a photo of Bettina Bel Geddes.
Karski said, “Yup, that’s her. Back then, she was blond. Platinum, you know? The Marilyn thing. Come to think about it, maybe a wig. Though why a young chick would need a wig, I have no idea.”
He returned the phone.
Milo said, “She’s still his lawyer.”
“Long-lasting relationship?” said Karski. “So maybe more than just business?”
“Could be. Was Heck the only one who came in with representation?”
“From what I saw, Milo, but I couldn’t swear to it. So now you’ve got him connected to both your victims but with a rock-solid alibi for at least one. Going to question him about Martha?”
“Maybe.”
“Only maybe?”
“He’s got assertive legal representation.”
“Cutie Pie needs to allow it.”
“She does, indeed.”
“Still,” said Karski, “even with all this I can’t see any obvious reason for Heck to harbor a grudge against Martha.
It’s not like she arrested him. More likely she cleared him, because, like I said, all of them were cleared.
Even the doctors and the therapists Alberts used.
That’s because his cases weren’t bullshit slip and falls, they were actually righteous.
The problem was he didn’t disburse funds to his clients. ”
I said, “Where did the money go?”
Karski grinned. “Finally, something I know.” He began ticking fingers.
“First off was gambling—massive bets, six figures on sports, both online and casinos. Vegas blackjack and high-stakes poker. Then there were private planes to get to Vegas. And back. And Aspen, wherever. NetJets alone cost him nearly a mil a year. He also piled up art, furniture, clothes, cars. A lot of which turned out to be overpriced crap, just goes to show you can cheat a cheater. He had three huge houses but all were mortgaged to the hilt. But the biggest hit Alberts took was on bad investments in the stock market. High-risk short selling, commodities, futures. It was like a primer on how to lose a fortune fast. My guys are getting backaches sitting at our desks all day expecting a big payoff and there’s goose-egg to recover.
So the tents got folded overnight. Meanwhile, Alberts stalls his way out of prison with some sort of diminished-capacity bullshit.
Haven’t heard he’s ever come up for trial, so I guess that’s still working. ”
Recounting the details had flushed Karski’s face. He looked younger, more fit, perched on his chair with muscular tension that said ready to pounce.
Milo said, “Turns out he really is impaired, Walt. Pretty much vegetative.”
“That so?” said Karski. “Well, at least he told the truth once.”
His posture slackened as he drained a glass of juice, poured another. “The whole thing was about headlines, pure and simple. Want something to eat?”
“No, thanks. Anything else come to mind.”
“Sorry, no. Wish I could help more and feel free to follow up with questions but I can’t think of anything.”
“Thanks.”
“I guess I should be thanking you,” said Karski. “First time I’ve felt useful in a while. The whole retirement thing, you know?”
The door opened and the woman in the photos entered, carrying shopping bags. OshKosh B’gosh, Gap Kids. Thinner than in the image on the wall, her hair longer, allowed to gray.
Karski got to his feet and they shared a lip-peck.
He took the bags and deposited them on the kitchen counter. “Judy Grobel, aka my far better half. Hon, this is Milo and that’s Dr. Delaware.”
Judy Grobel shook our hands with the same quick firmness as her husband. “Psychologist.” She grinned. “No doubt Walt told you about our Rebecca.”
“He did.”
Karski returned. “Productive shopping for the munchkins?”
“Very. Our oldest, Mark, lives nearby in Goleta, he’s in tech, had the good graces to get married and produce grandbabies.”
Karski said, “Rebecca will get there.”
Judy Grobel crossed her fingers. Slate-blue eyes lowered to the table. “Enjoy the juice? Walt’s pride and joy, he raised the tree from a puppy.”
We smiled.
Milo said, “Delicious. We were just leaving.”
She looked at her husband. “Productive session?”
Karski said, “If only.”
“Got it,” said Judy Grobel. To us: “We hated the whole thing—Walter working Alberts. He because he knew it was a joke and me because I had to live with him. Shortly after, we both retired from the Bureau.”
Karski said, “She worked national security.”
Grobel said, “Not as hotshot as it sounds. I liaised with TSA, basically visited airports trying to ensure the stupid was kept to a low level.”
“She’s selling herself short.”
She kissed his cheek. “I’d offer this guy to you on loan but I generally like his company.”
Both of them walked us to the door and continued outside the house.
Walt Karski said, “Good luck.”
Judy Grobel said, “That always helps.”