Pit Bull Peter Geller 03 - Pit and the Pendulum

— well, let’s say they’re friends of convenience. If they scent blood in the water … they’re as likely to turn me in to the tabloids as the blackmailer is.”
    I nodded; that I could understand. “But why me ?”
    “I saw your name in that alumni rag a few weeks ago — it said you were back in Philadelphia.” He shrugged. “You were the most straight-as-an-arrow guy I ever met. That whole ‘moral compass’ thing they teach in business ethics — that’s you to a tee. I thought …” He choked up.
    “That was a long time ago, Davy-boy.”
    “I know, Pit. I … I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He stood, snatching up the laser print-out and the newspaper.
    I grabbed his arm. “Come back here. Geez, you’re touchy. Of course I’ll help.”
    He hesitated a moment, then sat heavily. If he hadn’t been so desperate, I knew he would have run.
    “Pit …” He leaned forward, voice dropping. “Look at yourself. You’re a mess. Your hands are shaking. You can barely walk. This isn’t a game. I appreciate your offer, but —”
    “I know I have problems,” I said, “but I can still help you. That’s what friends are for.” I looked at him, my eyes pleading. I needed this. Needed something to do, something special to distract me from the downswing toward unhappy oblivion that was my life.
    He took a deep breath, then sagged a little and seemed to give in. “Okay. But —”
    I cut him off. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything. I assume there’s a letter with payment instructions. If so, I want to see it.”
    “Here.” He pulled another piece of paper from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. I unfolded it carefully. It had been written on a computer, typed in twelve-point Arial, and printed on the type of generic white copier paper you could get at any Staples or OfficeMax.

    david
    you can redeem your marker for two hundred thousand dollars if you agree place an ad in the inquirer that reads single white elephant named dumbo seeking mate you will get a voice mail with delivery instructions
    a friend

    I retrieved the printout of the pictures, spread it flat on the table, and studied each image one at a time, committing faces to memory.
    “What about this Cree woman?” I asked.
    “I’ve dated her off and on for two years. She’s a bit shallow, but okay. Focused on her career. Expects to marry me in a year or two. At least, we’ve been talking about it.”
    “So you don’t think she’s behind it?”
    “For a mere two hundred thou? Come on, I’m worth fifty million all by myself. If she waits, she’ll have it all.”
    “Not with a prenuptial agreement.”
    He chuckled. “The jewelry I bought her last month is worth more than that!”
    “All right. It’s not her. Was there anything else? A threat to send everything to the newspapers? Or your company’s Board of Directors?”
    “Nothing specific . But I know that’s what they’ll do if I don’t pay up.”
    I chewed my lip. “Did you save the envelope the letter came in, by any chance?”
    “No. Why? Is it important?”
    “I want to know where it was mailed from.”
    “Sorry, no return address.”
    “Postmark?”
    “Philadelphia.”
    “Zip code?”
    “I didn’t notice.”
    Not much help; it’s a big city.
    I asked, “When does the ad run?”
    He tapped the newspaper on the table. “It’s in today’s classifieds. I just looked it up.”
    “Any voice mails yet?”
    He nodded. “A few ladies looking for dates so far. The Dumbo part seems to have tickled their fancy.”
    I rotated the page with the pictures and pointed to the one where Davy stood by the roulette table. A man in the background had caught my eye: a little older than us, salt-and-pepper hair, small mustache … the sort you’d never look at twice.
    “Do you recognize him?” I asked.
    Davy leaned forward, squinted. “No. Why?”
    “He’s looking straight at whoever took the picture. And look — he’s standing behind you and Cree at the blackjack table, too. And in this shot — you can’t see his face, but that’s clearly his suit. He was stalking you.”
    “Say, I think you’re right! But it still doesn’t help. I don’t know him.”
    I nodded. “All right.” My mind was already turning through the possibilities. Too bad I didn’t know anyone at the police department or the FBI. Face-recognition software was the latest thing. A name would be helpful. Who else might know him? The gambling club’s