Ginny Page 8

  “If you say so,” he smiled.

  “The only love affair that meant anything while you were recovering, was with Frieda,” Ginny said.

  “You’ve gone over to the other side?”

  “Frieda’s a dog, my good man; Herman Walker’s dog, to be exact.”

  “Jeez, how am I gonna compete with a dog?” Reid questioned, smiling.

  “Are you going to let me tell my tale of woe, Reid?”

  “OK, you may begin,” he said.

  “Herman, I mean Mr. Walker, thought it best for me to stay with him until we could figure out who sent the two goons to do us in,” she began. “I was given a two-room suite on the second floor of his mansion. Very good accommodations, I might add. So, about a week after the Epstein crowd began to disappear and I was getting claustrophobic, I decided to bribe Herman’s limo driver and go out to dinner, unbeknownst to the head of house, of course.”

  “What did you bribe him with?”

  “Six hours of hot sex.”

  “Ginny!”

  “Reid, I was still rollin’ in cash from Epstein …” she paused. “Are you going to let me finish?”

  “Shoot … sorry, wrong expression,” he said.

  “Mr. Walker was out to a political fund-raiser and his housekeeper, Susan, had the day off, so I figured this would be a good time to get out and stretch my legs. We went to Las Virgenes Road and headed west through the canyon, found a nice, dark restaurant off the beaten path, so we decided this would be fine for dinner. Rick, the driver, was in the men’s room and I was in the bar waiting for our table. That’s when Pressman sent the waiter over and asked me to join him for a drink. Tell me, what are the chances of running into him? Unless, he was following me … it’s not good.”

  “You took him up on his offer, I presume.”

  “Hey, I’m not crazy, knowing his reputation.”

  “Good move,” Reid nodded.

  “He was sitting in a back-corner booth, apparently alone, so I moved over to his table to greet him. As a gentleman, he rises and helps me to my seat facing him. Meanwhile, I’m scared shitless, as you can imagine.”

  “Ginny, you? Scared?” Reid mused. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, bucko. I smiled politely and asked what I could do for him. So, he says I should keep quiet about the past events, and I agreed with him. What else could I say?

  Just then she comes up to the table, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead.”

  “Monika?”

  “Yeah, that’s the big Russian broad he hangs with. She says, ‘Vhat ez she doin’ here?’ in her heavy guttural accent—scared the crap out of me. She stands over six feet, has big gorilla hands. She clenched her fists and leaned forward. I backed away, when Pressman told her to cool it and come back in a few minutes. Her face turns bright red; she wheeled around and stomped off, much to my delight. Hey, I lost my appetite after her outburst.”

  “And?”

  “I asked him why he was sparing me, and he handed me some bullshit lines, you now, the kind most women love; tells me that I am too beautiful to harm and if we could get together, he’d be willing to forget the whole sordid mess. He uses generalities, to keep himself protected and I, of course, tell him I’m spoken for.”

  “You tell him about me?”

  “No, he tells me. He says, ‘Reid! You can do better than that.’ So, I say, ‘What can I do, I’m in love with the big dope.’ He sighs and agrees to think about it.”

  “Think?”

  “I’m about to pee my pants when Monika reappears.”

  “Then what?”

  “He stands and says that it was nice chatting and he left it at that, so I make a beeline for the bar.”

  “What did you have for dinner?”

  “Reid, for God’s sake, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough,” Ginny said.

  “Well, if he wanted your hide, he’d have had it by now. So, try to get back to sleep.”

  “You’re right, I was in a no-win situation. If I didn’t go along with him, he might have had me bumped off, and if I did, Monika would do the nasty … I hate to think of it. Then again, I’d hate to bed the old geezer.”

  “Let’s get some sleep,” Reid suggested. “Besides, if he saw you naked, he’d keel over from your pure beauty with a heart attack, ha.”

  “You’re a barrel of laughs, Reid … I hope the recurring dream fades from my memory. I’m getting tired of it.”

  “Ginny, during our separation I received information about the case you solved with your partner, ha,” Reid chuckled. “You swiped it from L.A.’s finest.”

  “You taught me well, Frank; and I’ll be thanking you over and over till the end of time.”

  “Not going to elaborate?”

  “No!” she exclaimed and gave him a soft punch to his upper arm.

  “OK,” he said with a smile.

  “Let’s get something straight, right now. You went back to your wife and we spent a long time apart, so I do not want to know the details of our estrangement—and you’re not to ask me any questions, either … Deal?”

  “No!”

  “What?”

  “Ginny, let me give you some information, OK?”

  “All right,” she agreed, albeit reluctantly.

  “We had a good marriage in the beginning, but things changed after our second child was born. Isabelle was cold; she turned into ice. Now, I’m not being harsh here—her body temperature literally dropped to a dangerous low.

  “Let me start. It was a hot August night, temperature in the eighties. I was sweltering in our bedroom as we tried to sleep. Around 10:30, I went to open the window, but she complained.

  “I touched her neck under the covers; she was cold. Something was wrong; her skin was colder than a clam.”

  Ginny asked, “Really?”

  “She seemed to change before my very eyes—gone was the warm nurturing woman I fell in love with—replaced with a cold fish.”

  “So, she changed from a clam to a fish?”

  “Don’t be sarcastic. She was always cold, I mean, sickly cold. I tried to get her to see the family doctor, but she refused. It was frustrating.”

  “Probably was afraid of the truth?” Ginny asked.

  “Yes … she’d avoid all conversations about health. Her mother died at a young age with ovarian cancer … that bothered her, you know.”

  “We all have our fears, Frank.”

  “We found out later that it was a thyroid problem, got the proper medication, but that didn’t solve our upcoming estrangement. Anyway, I’m a frustrated husband; I roll over on my back and try to think of better days. My boxers are sticking to me, my entire body is covered in a layer of perspiration, but thoughts of youthful rambunctiousness enter my mind—”

  “You would …” Ginny chuckled.

  “Ginny, let me continue … Before the children were born, my beautiful young wife is at my side, all is right with the world, lust is in my heart …”

  “Reid!” Ginny exclaimed. “Get back to the night in question … I don’t want to hear any of your love stories.”

  “Jeez, Ginny, a little reminiscing may be in order.”

  “Save that for another time, OK?”

  “OK, as was her custom, she’s dressed for The Polar Express. Covers pulled up to her neck, she’s off in slumber land and I …”

  “Polar Express?” Ginny asked.

  “Oh, her bedroom attire left me with without options …”

  “Woolly pajamas?”

  “Worse … granny pants and a T-shirt under sweats with heavy socks; so, you can see, my dear, this left me unsatisfied.”

  “Frank, a bundled-up woman on an eighty-degree night? It’s hard to believe.”

  “You said it, the gay nymph I married turned into an ice princess.”

  “Gay nymph? You mean she was a nymphomaniac lesbian?” Ginny quipped.

  “It’s an old
expression, my dear; means a happy woman.”

  “So, you didn’t get lucky?”

  “Of course not … her perfumed hair, alluring scent replaced with VapoRub and Bengay? Yuck.”

  “I’ll fix that … want to go again?” Ginny cooed.

  Later that evening, Ginny’s thoughts flashed back to their separation. She returned to her apartment and entered.

  Her cell phone rang. She swiped right, answering before the second ring. “Hello, big boy,” she said.

  “I can’t wait to see you,” Reid’s familiar voice came back at her, still weak from his injuries.

  “Good things are worth waiting for.”

  “My lawyer says I should stay away from you,” Reid chuckled.

  “Forty-seven hours,” Ginny said.

  “What?”

  “That’s how long our romance lasted, till you got yourself shot.”

  “It was closer to forty …” Reid began.

  “Reid!” she exclaimed.

  Noted crime boss Sid Pressman sat back in his favorite chair and sighed deeply.

  “Depressed?” Monika, his protégé asked.

  “You know me well, sweetheart.”

  “Git her out of jour mind,” Monika pleaded.

  “I can’t.”

  “I tell jou vhat,” she continued in her Russian accent, “Jou can have her, do vhat jou vant, den I snap her neck, OK?”

  “Monika, my dear sweet girl, what if I still like her?” he questioned.

  “Ha, jou can like her all jou vant, but makink luv to dead voman ez no good.”

  “True.”

  “My darlink,” Monika said, standing before him. “Come, vee make luv.” She offered her hand and when he took it, she pulled him to his feet. They retired to the bedroom and she turned down the bed covers.

  “Don’t look so sad, I know jou think of her, dis Ginny girl, but now I take over jour thoughts—no?”

  He slipped out of his jacket and tossed it on the chair, took a deep breath and sat on the bed.

  “Sid,” she began. “Jou do me, think of her—ez OK. If dats vhat jou vant?”

  “Why do you put up with me, Monika?”

  “Because I luv jou,” she said with a serious glance. “I do vhat jou ask: jou can ask me anytink, I don’t care. Take jour belt, beat me if jou vish.”

  “Monika!”

  “Es OK, I vill feel no pain, because I’m only voman jou need.”

  “A romance made in Heaven,” he said, wrapping his arms around the voluptuous beauty, pressing his face against her toned stomach.

  “I hope jou remember dat vhen I’m avay.”

  “Of course. Now show me what you’ve got.”

  “Hello,” Ginny said into her cell phone.

  “Ginny, Sid Pressman, I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m very busy now, Sid.”

  “Does two thousand dollars free you up?” Sid asked.

  “I’m planning my wedding, sorry.”

  “Ten thousand?”

  “As lucrative as that sounds, I’m afraid I’m unavailable,” Ginny said.

  “Then when are you available?”

  “It’s hard to tell; we’re going on a world tour.”

  “World tour? I don’t think so, especially on Reid’s money, ha,” Pressman laughed.

  “You got me Sid. It’s not the money; it’s Monika.”

  “She’s in San Francisco visiting her ailing parents, won’t be back anytime soon.”

  “But she’ll be back,” Ginny said.

  “What happened to your reputation of being a badass?”

  “That’s a myth, I’m really as scared as a cat when it comes to imposing women like Monika,” Ginny laughed.

  “Ginny, what she doesn’t know, won’t kill her.”

  “But it might kill me.”

  “I’m becoming impatient with you.”

  “I’ll have to think about it, Sid.”

  “You do that,” he said and hung up.

  “Ginny, who was that?” Reid asked.

  “Pressman.”

  “What does he want?”

  “Should I draw you a picture? You know what he wants, damn!”

  “I could have one of my friends in the Ventura County Sheriff’s office pay him a visit.”

  I’ll wait and see. Maybe he has some work for me,” Ginny said in an unconvincing way.

  The thought of the two of you doing the horizontal boogie is not appealing to me,” Reid sighed.

  “Appealing to you? How the fuck do you think I feel?”

  Knock, Knock, Knock.

  Ginny went to the door, stood on her toes and looked through the peephole. “It’s Chief Fuches!”

  “The Chief?” Reid stepped toward her.

  “Open up,” Fuches ordered. “I have a warrant.”

  She opened the door. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Pressman.” The chief said, handing her the paper.

  “I’m calling my lawyer,” Ginny announced.

  “Hey Reid, talk some sense into your broad.”

  “Name calling isn’t going to help you, Fuches,” Reid said.

  “Listen,” the Chief said. “Ginny, we know of your meetings with Sid Pressman.”

  “Meetings? You’ve got to be kidding,” Ginny said.

  “The restaurant in Malibu Canyon, for one.”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “Perhaps these photos will jog your memory,” the Chief said, presenting her with a folder containing the evidence.

  “Reid, get Herman on the phone,” Ginny ordered.

  “Off the record, OK?” Fuches offered.

  “Let’s hear him out,” Reid said.

  “I don’t trust him,” Ginny glared.

  He turned to the officers waiting in the hall. “You guys take a break; this will only take a few minutes.”

  “Shall we sit down,” Reid said, closing the door.

  “Look, I won’t make trouble if you cooperate with me. Your case is still open, as I have several of my best men investigating …”

  “So?” Ginny interrupted.

  “We know, Ginny; you’re in contact with Pressman and …” the Chief paused.

  “That’s it, I’m calling Herman,” Ginny said.

  “No!” Reid said in a loud voice. “Let him finish.”

  Fuches sat there eyeing them, then spoke, “I’m retiring soon, and I want Pressman, his crazy Russian whore and the rest of his gang off the streets for good.”

  “So, what’s that got to do with us?” Ginny asked.

  “Everything. You help us and we’ll drop the investigation.”

  “Don’t be so good to us,” Ginny said, her voice filled with sarcasm.

  “Ginny, we know you’re tight with Pressman, the way he looks at you …”

  “Grasping at straws, Chief,” Ginny said.

  “Ginny, please,” he pleaded. “We had an undercover agent in Pressman’s house. She’s gone missing.”

  “Who?” Reid asked.

  “Gomez!” the Chief exclaimed, banging his hand down on the coffee table.

  “Good cop,” Reid said, shaking his head.

  “So, I’m the next guinea pig?” Ginny asked.

  “We’ll protect you,” the Chief said.

  “Like you protected Gomez? I don’t think so,” Ginny said.

  “I guess we’ll just have to haul the two of you in for questioning,” the exasperated Fuches said.

  “I’m calling Herman.”

  “No, you don’t Ginny. You’re both under arrest,” he said, and then he stood. “Officers!” he exclaimed.

  “Wait,” Reid said. “We’ll cooperate.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Reid—I’m …” Ginny began, as the officers entered.

  “Read ‘em their rights and bring ‘em in,” the Chief ordered.

  “You bastard!” Ginny called.


  “Take ‘em down to the station and then search this dump.”

  “Let us consult with our lawyer first?” Reid asked.

  “No lawyers Ginny. I’m going to pull your P.I. license, too. Associating with known thugs, et cetera, et cetera,” Fuches threatened.

  “Wait!” Ginny seemed lost in thought, and then asked, “OK, OK, you win. What do I have to do?”

  “Get Pressman on the phone,” Chief Fuches said, “make arrangements to see him as soon as possible.”

  “You know everything?” Reid asked.

  “Just about,” Fuches smiled.

  “I’m not amused,” Ginny said, as she dialed Pressman’s number.

  “Hello,” Pressman said.

  “You win, I’ll see you,” she said, giving them a mock smile.

  “I’ll send my driver … say tomorrow about five p.m., OK?”

  “Fine.”

  “Bring your toothbrush.”

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  “What was that?” the Chief asked.

  “Sounds like gunshots,” Ginny said.

  “Allo,” a female voice said.

  “Monika?” Ginny asked.

  “Jou vant ‘im, Ginny girl, jou can have ‘im—ez dead, ha, ha, ha,” Monika laughed as she dropped the phone on the floor.

  One year later:

  Traveling on the 101 freeway in downtown Los Angeles, fighting the midday traffic, Reid turned to Ginny and asked, “Where are we going?”

  “It’s universal; men never listen,” she mused.

  “Universal City is behind us, ha,” he joked.

  “The Biltmore, lunch with Herman Walker, remember?”

  “I never cared for him, you know,” he said, “lawyers.”

  “You never care for anyone.”

  “Not true, I care for you, my sweet …”

  “We’re running late; we’ll use the valet parking.”

  Herman stood when they arrived at the table. “Hello, hello,” he said. “Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Susan.”

  “Congratulations,” Ginny beamed. “Susan, this is my husband, Frank Reid.”

  Reid nodded and shook Herman’s hand and then Susan’s. “Pleased,” he said.

  “Shall we be seated?” Herman offered.

  “Joining the ranks of the lucky and the strong,” Reid said, holding Ginny’s chair.