Watching The Detectives Ch. 02

"Look, Ray's a jealous hot head, but he's never put a finger on me. He huffs and puffs and tries to intimidate with his size, but deep down, my husband is weak."

"Yet!" Glo replied. "He hasn't laid a finger on you, yet."

Kat figured she'd soon learn whether Art Casey was an honorable businessman, or a crook ripping off Raymond. She suspected he was dirty, but not 100% certain. It was possible Casey was waiting to gather more evidence of adultery before reporting her activity to his client. She would provide that evidence. Then Kat would know for sure if Art reported her faux infidelity to her husband. Or maybe Casey would confront his partner for sleeping with a client's wife?

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---- THE SPEAKEASY ---

More than a week after Kat's charades at the Rosewood Apartments, it was clear Art hadn't yet informed her husband of her unusual behavior. If he had, Raymond surely would have reacted poorly. The man had no poker face. It was also clear Art suspected she and Billy might be fooling around, because he was following his partner. Kat had another scheme up her sleeve. For this act, she would play dress-up.

Kat pulled out one of her favorite outfits from her vast wardrobe, a red pencil dress that hugged her curves like a sports car. Just slipping that tight number over her body turned her on. Her matching stiletto heels were daring, like walking a tightrope. A red clutch completed the ensemble.

On a Friday at noon, Kat drove slowly towards downtown. In her rearview mirror, she spied Billy in his white Dodge Coronet. Following at a distance was Art in his Plymouth. In front of The William Penn Hotel, she handed her keys to a valet and sauntered into the lobby.

The William Penn was the best hotel in Pittsburgh, but like the city, the hotel had seen better times. In 1969, it was still the highest level of class and service in town. Every famous or powerful visitor to the 'Burgh stayed at The Penn.

Once inside the spacious, luxurious lobby, Kat sat in an easy chair near the front desk. She suspected Billy wouldn't use the valet, so she waited for him to park. When he arrived, she approached the front desk and made small talk with a young male clerk. Billy took cover as she walked to the elevator. She pressed the button for the 18th floor assuming her tail would watch the floor indicator to see where she got off.

When the doors opened on eighteen, she held the elevator door open for more than a minute, then pressed twenty-three to ascend the final stories to the famous Speakeasy Lounge on the top floor. Like the Rosewood charade, her Penn plan had some risk. Billy might take the elevator to the eighteenth floor to snoop, but what if he came all the way to the top floor? If he did, her plan was cooked.

Kat sat at a corner table near the bar where anyone leaving the kitchen would see her. While ordering a cocktail, she made flirty small talk with her handsome young waiter. After she dined, Kat moved to the bar where a lively Friday lunch crowd dined and drank.

"I'll have a vodka gimlet."

The bartender smiled. "I know what you drink."

"Right, you just made me one."

"No, I remember from your days hanging out here."

"Oh. You have a good memory. That was a long time ago."

"Your crowd is easy to remember, and you were in the news often enough."

Kat sighed. "When you're defending mobsters and politicians, the media puts a target on your back."

The bartender poured vodka over ice into a stainless steel shaker. He added a lime cordial, fastened the cover, and gave it a good shake. He placed a chilled glass on the bar and poured the drink."

He slid the glass in front of Kat. "And you never have more than two, if I recall."

Kat smiled. "You do have a good memory. That's my lunch limit."

After several minutes of serving other patrons, he returned to Kat.

"If you don't mind me asking, did you ever struggle with defending crooks knowing they might get away with crimes if you did a good job?"

Kat nodded. "There were a few times when I suspected they were guilty, but most of the time I didn't know one way or the other. The prosecution must prove their case. If they didn't, I could sleep at night knowing I did my job."

"What if they did prove their case?"

"If the district attorneys convinced a jury of twelve, I wouldn't lose sleep over guilty verdicts. You win some, you lose some."

"Fair enough." He smiled. "How do you feel about the press? They were pretty rough at times."

"Only The Weekly Mail. The P.G. and The Press were fair. I like to think most people know what the tabloids print is garbage."

He raised an eyebrow. "You have a higher opinion of people than I do."

Across Grant Street from The Penn, was Art, sitting in his car watching, waiting, and likely wondering what the hell was going on. Nearly two hours had passed. He couldn't know if Kat and Billy had a room together, or if she was meeting someone else. He didn't venture inside not wanting Billy to know he was watching him. Since Art wouldn't inform Raymond of her previous charade, Kat counted on Billy telling his boss that she had met someone on the eighteenth floor, forcing Art to act. Would the boss believe him? It didn't matter. Either way, it would surely be Casey's professional duty to report her luxury hotel visit to her husband. She has three strikes against her.

After lunch, Kat thanked the staff and left a generous tip for the waiter and bartender. As she departed through the lobby, Billy was watching the elevator, pretending to read The Post-Gazette. From across Grant Street, Art observed Kat talking to a valet while another brought her car around. After she drove away, he witnessed Billy leaving the hotel. Her Penn performance was a success.

'I wish I could be a fly on the wall at the Art Casey Detective Agency this afternoon.'

Much to her surprise, and with some disappointment, several days passed without a question from her husband. Raymond cluelessly went about his business, unaware of the games his wife was playing with his hired hands, or that they were ripping him off by not reporting her unusual activity.

******

At her favorite diner, The Fifth Avenue Grille, Kat discussed with Gloria the continuing contest between her and the detectives. Glo wondered why the game hadn't already reached a conclusion.

"What more proof do you need? It's pretty damn obvious these are shady characters. How long have they been watching you?"

"Eight weeks, I think. I've lost track."

"You played that stunt at the young guy's apartment over two weeks ago. At this point, it's clear the old man isn't going to report you to Ray."

Kat stirred her Coke with a straw. "I did another thing too."

"What?" Glo made a face. "What dumb prank did you pull off now?"

"I had lunch at The Speakeasy on Friday."

"At The Penn Hotel?"

"Is there another Speakeasy in town?"

"I love that place. I mean, I've only been twice, but it's so... swanky. That's what it is. What did you do there?"

Kat explained her Penn performance to Glo and watched her friend's face contort between amusement, scorn, and finally, concern.

"You're gonna get yourself in trouble with these guys. You don't know anything about them except they're ex-cops. Why are they ex-cops? Especially the young one, Billy."

"They're just a couple of PPD washouts, no big deal."

"You don't know that. That department is packed with unsavory characters. There's a lot of corruption. You don't want to be fucking around with dirty cops."

"Who says they were dirty?"

"They're crooked private eyes!" Glo eye's bugged out. "Wake up Kat, of course, they were dirty cops."

"You don't know that."

"They're milking your sucker husband for every nickel they can. The dumb ass deserves it, but that's your money too."

"I suppose."

"You need to put an end to this bullshit. Rat those crooks out and tell Raymond to get your money back."

"But what if these dirty cops tell Ray to fuck off?" said Kat. "If they're so dangerous, we probably shouldn't confront them with their crime."

"You're being facetious, right?"

"Sort of." Kat took a sip of Coke. "Don't think I haven't thought this through. One reason I haven't told Ray is because I know he'll lose his shit and confront them. You've seen him in action when he's angry."

"I have." Glo shook her head. "I'll never forget the time he attacked Matt Kornacki at the diner for sitting too close to you. That was insane."

"So you see my point, why I've hesitated?"

"In that case, you need to know more about these cops before you blow the lid off their milk money scheme."

Kat had learned what she could about the private dicks by observing them and then questioning Art Casey over the phone, but she knew nothing of their police careers. Glo was right to ask, 'Why are they ex-cops?' It's not like she could walk into the Pittsburgh Police Department's personnel office and ask to see their files. She needed to do it on the sly, and she knew just the man to see.

In the meantime, with no action on the detective front, Kat decided to do a repeat performance at The Penn. Why not? She enjoyed her two-gimlet lunch last week. Flirting with the cute male staff was fun too. If Kat was honest, she'd admit to enjoying dressing up and attracting the attention of men. She certainly wasn't getting that at home; if she was honest.

This time, she arrived in style wearing one of her favorite courtroom outfits, a canary yellow mock neck midi dress with three-quarter sleeves, another hip hugger. It was impossible to not be seen in that shade of yellow, it popped; as did the eyes of men watching her glide through the hotel lobby.

'This is fun. I'm wasting my talent in this town. I should be in New York.'

While most professional women opted for the dark business suit or understated dress, Kat never conformed to those stiff standards during her career. She wore pink, reds, and yellows and stood out in court like a sixties fashion model. That's one reason the press latched on to her, she became the subject of news photographers on the courthouse steps and fodder for gossip. The local tabloid, The Weekly Mail, questioned how she advanced to become a high-profile defense attorney in a male-dominated field, and she was barely thirty. They even went as far as hinting at untoward workplace behavior.

Her boss, Jacob Kramer, saw associate Katherine Price's minor celebrity as an asset. Mr. Kramer used his junior attorney with the skill of a stage director. Within three years of passing the bar, Kat was the quasi-public face of the firm and an articulate spokesperson on the courthouse steps. She was unflappable, often funny, and had the media eating out of her hands.

There were judges so smitten with Kat, that she was assigned as assistant council on any case before those magistrates. Sadly, those heady days were in her past, but she still fit in those colorful dresses, like a glove.

Kat turned heads sashaying through the lobby of The Penn. She smiled as the elevator doors closed, seeing Billy across the lobby, hiding behind a large plant. Her second luxury hotel ruse went off as well as the first. She enjoyed a nice lunch in The Speakeasy, this time seated at the bar, chatting up the same bartender. When she exited the elevator, Billy was waiting in the lobby with a newspaper covering his face, again. It was comical.

'How long can they drag this out? What the hell is Raymond thinking?'

Billy had in fact told his boss that Kat had met someone at The Penn. Both detectives now suspected she was having an affair, but Art didn't know if Billy was also playing him. The men didn't have the best working relationship. He didn't want to confront Billy because he had no proof his partner was sleeping with the client's wife. It was possible that Kat was acquainted with another Rosewood tenant, but there were only twelve units. What were the odds?

Art was in a tough spot. If he told Raymond he suspected Kat was sleeping with another man, Ray would surely demand the identity of her lover. How could he tell the husband that the wife was banging the partner if he wasn't one hundred percent certain?