The Book of Esther
Chapter 10It was almost four, and the participants were all a little nervous. Stu was in his office; Esther and Jeff were waiting in Spencer's office. Four o'clock came and went, then four-thirty. It was twenty to five when someone walked in the front door. Stu's intercom buzzed. "Stuart, Timothy Simpson is here to see you."
"Send him in, Suzanne."
The door to Stu's office opened and Simpson entered. Tall with salt and pepper hair, glasses and wearing a suit that Stu figured must have cost five-hundred dollars. "Won't you have a seat, Mr. Simpson? I'm Stuart Bailey."
"I apologize for my tardiness, Mr. Bailey. Court ran longer than I expected it to." He glanced briefly around the room. "Is Miss Gordon still here?"
"She is, but before I bring her in you need to be aware of something. Miss Gordon has asked me to sit in on your meeting. I hope you have no objection to that."
"None at all, Mr. Bailey. There's nothing secret about my client's offer."
Stu got up from behind his desk and went to the door that separated the offices. He opened the door slightly and stuck his head in. "Esther, we're ready for you." In just a moment the blonde entered the room.
Simpson stood up. "Miss Gordon, I'm Timothy Simpson."
Esther sat down and both men did the same. Esther cleared her throat. "Mr. Simpson, how did you know that I'd inherited The Working Girl from Artie Felder? I wasn't even aware of it."
"Is that really important, Miss Gordon?" Simpson asked her.
"Yes, it is." Esther had a look in her eyes that warned she wasn't going to back down.
The attorney sighed. "About three months ago Mr. Felder contacted our firm to draw a will up for him. Jim Anderson wrote it. As soon as we heard what had happened, Jim asked me to get in touch with you. He's in the middle of a trial and couldn't do it himself. Before I had a chance to call you the buyer contacted me and asked me to make you an offer."
"Just who is this buyer, Mr. Simpson?" Stu asked.
"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to say. The buyer prefers to remain anonymous."
"And what is the offer, Mr. Simpson?" Esther asked.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars cash, Miss Gordon, and the buyer will assume responsibility for all outstanding debts of Mr. Felder." Pause. "Twenty-five thousand dollars is a lot of money, Miss Gordon."
He's right, Esther thought. Twenty-five thousand dollars is a lot of money. But it's not enough. "I'm afraid I have to turn you down, Mr. Simpson. Mr. Felder had a grand idea of what he wanted to do with that place, and I'm not willing to sell his dream for twenty-five thousand."
Stu watched Esther closely. She hadn't said a word about any dream Artie had. She caught his eye and gave him a little smile and he knew she was bluffing. Next move, Simpson's. Stuart waited to see just how far the attorney could be pushed.
"May I use your phone?" Simpson suddenly asked.
"Of course," Stu replied as he handed the phone over.
Simpson hesitated a minute to see if they were going to leave, but the detective and the showgirl didn't budge. He dialed the number anyway. "It's me. She won't accept the offer. What . . . ? How far? You're sure? Alright, I understand. Goodbye."
The attorney sat back down. "Same offer, but thirty-five thousand cash."
Esther had him on the ropes now; Stu could see it on the attorney's face. Very calmly she said, "No, Mr. Simpson. Another ten-thousand dollars doesn't change my answer."
"Miss Gordon, right now you're living with a twenty-four hour a day guard, moving from hotel to hotel. How long do you think you can continue to do that? Sell the club and you can have your life back."
"Is that a threat, Simpson?" Stu interrupted.
"No, Mr. Bailey, that's just a fact of life. How long can you and your partners continue guarding Miss Gordon? Is the police department going to pay your salary while you sit around and watch television all day?"
Stu was incensed. He stood up behind his desk and ordered the attorney, "That's enough, Simpson. Get out."
Simpson didn't budge from his chair. "Final offer, Miss Gordon. Fifty-thousand dollars."
Esther held firm. Stu gave her credit for holding out. "Final answer, Mr. Simpson. No."
At last the attorney stood. He looked at Stuart first, then down at Esther. "You're making a big mistake. Both of you." He picked up his briefcase and left. Stu heard the front door slam.
He looked over at the girl, who had pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Then he sat back down. "That's an awful lot of money, Esther. Are you sure that's what you wanted to do?"
She took a drag off of the cigarette and laughed as she blew the smoke out. "No, that's not what I wanted to do. I wanted to sell the place. But not to somebody like Simpson. You heard his threats. 'You're making a big mistake.' Where do you think the money he offered comes from?"
The door between the offices opened and Jeff entered. He took the seat next to Esther that Tim Simpson just vacated. "We have to find another hotel. That was definitely a threat against both of you."
"Suzanne, get me Gilmore, please," Stu buzzed the intercom. As soon as she had the Lieutenant on the line she put him through. "Gil, we just had a visit from Simpson. He offered Esther fifty-thousand dollars for The Working Girl. No, she turned him down, and when she did he threatened both of us. Yes, we're moving her. What? No, he wouldn't tell us who made the offer. Yes, I'll let you know where she is as soon as we've moved her. I will. Yes. You too."
"What did Gil have to say?" Jeff asked.
"He's going to see if he can find out who was behind the offer. Have you heard from Roscoe?"
"Not today. Wait a minute." Jeff walked out into the front office and Stu could hear him and Suzanne talking. He was back in just a minute. "Suzanne hasn't heard from him either. Try calling him."
Stu picked up the phone and dialed. On the third ring Roscoe answered. "Roscoe, we need you at the office. Yes, as soon as possible, alright?"
"What's the next move?" Esther wondered to the two private detectives.
"We've got to get you someplace safe." Stu and Jeff exchanged glances. "We could go to my place. Then Gil could put a guard on the door."
"That wouldn't do Esther's reputation any good," Jeff insisted.
"What reputation?" Esther asked. "I'm twenty-four years old and I worked in a go-go club. And I just turned down fifty-thousand dollars because I want to know who killed my friend. I don't have a reputation to protect."
"Alright, then it's settled. Jeff, you take Esther to my apartment," Stu instructed while he put his jacket on.
"And where are you going?"
"As soon as Roscoe gets here, I'm going to The Working Girl, to see if I can find out what makes it worth fifty-thousand dollars."