Doc's Place

© 2008, Michel Grover. All rights reserved.
Chapter 9 | Part 3
Wednesday, October 3, 1984

At my desk, I dial the photographer's number.

"A Pair of Aces," says a woman's voice.

"Hi, I'm Jill Price, calling from Doc's Place. I understand you've done work for the magazine, Doc's Talks?"

"Yes, Jill, I'm glad you called. I'm Penny, one of the Aces."

"Hi Penny. Were you expecting my call?"

"Reno may be a city, but it's still small. Word gets around quickly," she says, "Would you like to see samples of our work?"

"Yes I would," I tell her.

"How about my husband Tom and I pick you up for lunch and then we'll stop by our studio?"

"I have another stop after I leave your studio, Penny, so let's meet at the restaurant."

She tells me where it is and that she and Tom will be there in a few minutes. Grab copies of the publication plan and my curriculum vitae, my keys and boogie for the door.

"Excuse me, Jill," says Annette, holding the phone. "A Detective Locaccio for you."

Take the receiver and say, "Yeah, Don."

"Be a good idea to stop by the police station as soon as possible, Jill. The captain's getting nervous and the feds will be here about one."

"Take `em to lunch, Don. I'll come by before two but I only have an hour. You have your own office?"

"Are you kidding? I have my own locker and a desk drawer. They can get their own goddamn lunch."

"Then let's meet in your captain's office. I assume he has one."

"Yeah, it's the one with the brooms and mops. Before two, you say?"

"See you then, Don." Hand the phone to Annette.

Pausing, I ask, "May I leave messages with you, Annette?"

"Yes, of course, Jill."

"If anyone is looking for me, I'll be at lunch and then with the photographers. I'll call in from there." Smile as I walk away. "Be back before four."

"Bye-bye," she says as she writes.

Lunch with Penny and Tom is fun. They have worked all over the world but settled here so they can live at Tahoe. Most of their work comes out of Los Angeles or New York, so they have plenty of chances to indulge their love of movies. Their lives revolve around attending screenings and first releases.

Back at their studio on Matley, near the fitness center, they show me not only their published work but also a small part of their video collection. Let them read the publication plan and then take it back. They are so excited by the possibility of having their work reprinted in the national historical foundation's magazine that both begin talking.

"Don't tell anyone about that plan I just showed you," I tell them. "I'm not showing it to your competitors."

"I'm not sure we can win a bid," says Tom. "Casinos are notoriously cheap on employee publications."

"Look, I want you two to win the bid but I know you're expensive for the area. The request for quote covers eight issues. You bid on six," I tell them. "We'll finish the shooting by then. You win when your attributed work appears in the foundation's magazine."

Tom asks, "How do we know they'll publish our work?"

"We don't, Tom, but as I told the foundation researcher, I'm already published in there. Sure, it's only two paragraphs, but it's a shot." Hand Tom a copy of my curriculum vitae. "Here, keep this. I'm in the foundation's magazine and I have executive approval at Ferro. Now what do you say?"

They look at one another. "It's a risk," says Tom.

"Yes, but it's worth it," says Penny. "You know once we get our work published in there, they'll call us again. Look at Ivan." Penny turns to me and says, "Ivan is a friend of ours whose work was published by the foundation two years ago and they've called him four times since then."

Tom says, "Ivan doubled his hourly rate and then doubled it again."

"We could buy the apartment in New York, Tom," says Penny.

That seems to swing him over. "Okay, we'll do it," he says, extending his hand. "We'll have our quote to you by five today." Shake his hand and return Penny's hug. "Can you start shooting next week?"

"We're loaded up all week, but maybe. . . . Damn," says Penny after looking at the appointment log. "I'm sorry, Jill but we have the Baron Ranch shoot Monday through Sunday."

"What are you shooting out there? Their landscaping hasn't even begun and it's October, for Christ's sake. Who shoots a development in October?"

"All interiors," says Penny. "We start shooting landscapes in the spring."

"Hand me that phone," I tell her.

Dial Mei's office and get Margaret, the receptionist.

"Hi, Margaret."

"Hello, Jill," says Margaret. "What can I do for you?"

"Give me the boss."

"Hey Jill," says Chen Mei.

"Are you photographing Baron Ranch next week?"

"How did you know about the photo shoot?" asks Mei.

"I'm at A Pair of Aces," I tell her.

"You want our time slot?"

"Yeah."

"The project's on hold until further notice. The contractor will formally notify them tomorrow."

Hang up. "Your Baron Ranch shoot is on indefinite hold. The contractor will notify you tomorrow."

"Wow," says Penny, glancing at Tom and then looking at me. "You just moved to Reno and you're connected all over town."

"Fire your clients who don't pay well, guys," I tell them. "I'll take every half day you can spare." As I leave, I glance at my watch. It's one-forty.

Ten minutes later, I tell the desk sergeant, a formidable-looking woman, that I'm Jill Price to see the captain.

"Have an appointment, ma'am?"

"Yes."

"Please wait, ma'am. I'll call you in a moment."

Walk to the pay phone, call Doc's Place and ask for Annette. "Anybody yelling for me?"

"Louise."

"Put me through, please."

"Yes?"

"Louise, this is Jill. I just left one photographer; couple more to see. Be back by four o'clock or so."

"Thank you for calling, Jill. Sorry, but I'm so out of it, I'm going home. Will you stop by the office tomorrow?"

The desk sergeant is waving me over. "Sure, boss. Get some rest and I'll see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Jill. See you tomorrow."

Hang up and walk over as Don comes strolling down the stairs, his hands in his pockets. "Detective Locaccio," I say in greeting, "Nice to see you again."

"You too," he says, turns and leads me up the stairs.

"How ya doin', Price?"

"Fine. Why?"

"Never mind," he says as we enter the crowded and noisy squad room. A lot of suits are standing around outside an office door across the room. "Usually like a tomb in here but not today. Any idea why?" he asks.

"Mandatory daily showers for detectives," I tell him as I scan the crowd of suits, recognizing two of them from Salt Lake City. Federal agents look like aging Mormon missionaries. "Captain posted the bulletin this morning."

"Smart ass," growls Don.

"Jill Price," says one of the agents, walking over. "Body count's up by five. More notches this year than the history of the combined Western field offices. How do you account for that?"

"Just lucky, Agent George," I tell him. That's his name, Tony George—a handsome man, but he has a lizard's dead eyes. "Hello, Jack," I say to his partner, Jack Kinnear.

"Jill. How are you?" he asks, taking my hand and pressing it warmly. The two of us genuinely like each other but we don't meet unless I kill some people. This is our third meeting this year.

"Keeping fit," I tell him.

"Good thing," he says.

Takes a half-hour to describe this morning's events twice. I'm sitting against the edge of the captain's desk, surrounded by men standing around the walls. It's crowded with bodies and odors—the tangy scent of interest and the coppery odor of fear. Jack, the special agent in charge, insists on my walking them through the actual scene.

"No problem but I'm due back at work this afternoon. How about tomorrow morning first light at the back gate? That way, I can walk you through from first shot to last under the same light conditions."

"Excuse me," says fat Joe, who threatened to detain me this morning. "Who says they won't try again next time you walk out there?"

Glance at Tony George, who is staring at me, apparently aware of what I'm thinking.

"You can run it with her, Detective," says a young agent I don't know. Muted laughter rolls through the room.

"Laugh," says Joe, "What if I'm right?"

"Bring body bags," says Agent George. No one laughs at that. Tony asks, "Your next regular run is Friday morning, right? Takes a couple hours?"

"Right. Walk out of the woods at five," I say, looking at him. Pretty sure I know what he's planning: cold-blooded bastard wants to deploy snipers, each with a night scope. It could work.

"This is not a good idea," says Don. "You should lay low for a few days, Jill."

"No, Don. They'll either try or they won't."

"And they'll either kill you or they won't," he says. The room goes quiet.

Jack looks up from jotting notes and says, "Everybody step out except Jill, Agent George and me, please."

"Now just a goddamned minute," says Don, stepping toward me as the others shuffle through the doorway.

"Don," I say, "It's okay."

"This is bullshit and you know it," he growls and stalks out, closing the door.

Once the three of us are alone in the room, Jack closes the door, looks at me and says softly, "Up to you Jill."

Glancing from Tony to Jack, I ask, "If you snag them, you'll make them tell you who's behind this and end it, right?"

Jack nods and says softly, "That's right."

Standing, I approach Agent George. Staring into the death mask that is Agent Tony George's face, I say, "Tell me they'll talk."

Tony's lifeless eyes watch me for a moment before he whispers, "They'll talk."

"Then I'll do it," I tell them.

Jack says, "We'll finish at the scene this afternoon then strip out the markers and tape so you can run Friday morning."

"Need tell-tales for me and the guy with me," I say to Tony. "So the guys with the scopes can see it's us."

"Our guys will tag your outer layer themselves, front and back," says Tony. "Friday morning, just stick to your routine."

Nod, glance at the clock—three-fifteen—and walk out slowly, pushing my way past cops and a couple feds, all quiet, watching me. Don walks with me out the back door to my car. No one else is out there so I hug him. Not saying anything, I hold him—my friend, Bruno's friend. Then I pat him on the shoulder, slide into the Buick and drive off as he stands watching me.

Visit two more photo studios and request their price quotations by Friday. Back at Doc's, Annette hands me a couple messages. Tom and Penny are sending the price quotation by courier. Ask Annette to place the envelope on my desk when it arrives. The other message is from Jack Kinnear who says call him at the hotel if I want to have dinner with him tonight. Dinner with a federal lifer? I don't think so.

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Doc's Place Chat
© 2008, Michel Grover.
Chapter 9 | Part 3
Summer 2008

Lucia :
Mic has posted in the left frame paragraphs from Doc's Place, one of his copyrighted stories. I'm moderating chat here in the right frame. I post every day, but I don't post everything. I have formed a secondary group from which I may also post comments.

Doug :
Why are we reading about this visit to the photographers? Okay, it advances the narrative, but it doesn't build tension or drama. Wait, I know. Benny will tell us that it's either essential for some obscure reason or just a distraction so we won't notice something else.

Lucia :
Sheesh Doug, sometimes you remind me of your dad. Are you having a bad day?

Doug :
Nah, actually a good day but now that you mention it, my dad and I share at least one trait. If we're uncertain or unhappy, we're quiet and reserved. If we're feeling good, we're voluble and meaner than snakes.

Maria :
You provide an interesting insight into Peter. He's been feeling pretty good at the time of this story, according to his son Doug here. We'll have to keep that in mind as we observe Peter's behavior, especially if he gets quiet. Thank you, Doug.

Doug :
Glad to help. Anyone want to answer my question?

Steph :
Jill moves quickly. Less than one minute after receiving informal, verbal budget approval, she is on the phone spending money from that budget.

Doug :
Tell the maintenance guy in my condominium building that a light bulb's burned out, he replaces it right away. Maybe he should get a medal. We're supposed to be impressed because the bitch does her job?

Cyril :
I'll answer. Our perspective here in 2007 enables us to look back in time at a person we now realize is hugely influential, which few knew in 1984. That's why people become fascinated with minutiae about the lives of famous people. We have the advantage of looking back in history and seeing that the dork no one noticed dropping out of Harvard is destined to become a multi-billionaire one day.

Doug :
My point is that Jill doesn't seem to do much that's exciting or even out of the ordinary. I mean, hell, my life is no less interesting than hers and my life is boring.

Annie :
Yet Jill is worth perhaps a trillion dollars and employs the women who rule the world. Oh, by the way, she hunts and kills serial rapists and murderers in her spare time. What's your net worth right now, Doug, perhaps a quarter of a million? At your age, Jill was worth over 4 million and carrying almost 6 million in debt in 1974 dollars according to the numbers Cyril provided. She also owned a half dozen thriving companies. Are you saying that the story does not entertain you because you're jaded by TV shows that offer a thrill a minute or games that offer a shock a second? What do you do in your spare time, Doug, on-line first-person shooters?

Doug :
You'd be surprised. Aside from comparing Jill's life to mine, which is an exercise in futility, what is the point of reading about a mid-level manager negotiating a contract with professional photographers for an employee magazine?

Jules :
In the timeline of the story, yesterday Jill visualizes all 8 issues of this magazine completed. Today, we're seeing the steps she is going through to make those issues exist.

Doug :
While that's an admirable ability, it certainly is not uncommon so why are we reading about this?

Jules :
That's the point Doug. Jill is not that different from you and me, but she has accomplished a great deal in her life.

Benny :
Makes one wonder when she visualized all the things that she has accomplished in her life, doesn't it?

Marcus :
Benny's right, as usual, Doug. Visionary people accomplish mighty achievements with what seem to be small, persistent acts each day.

Amalie :
Jill, do you remember the date and time of day when you visualized what you've accomplished today?

Jill :
Yes, it was actually over a series of days beginning in February 1972.

Cyril :
Shortly after you met Ume in that Japanese whorehouse.

Amalie :
You're 24yrs old, Jill. You must look pretty harmless.

Cyril :
Look pretty harmless, you say? In February 1972, Jill has 27 kills to her credit. She tops OSI's KBa FET board. She has just made her first government-contract kill and she's about to kill 10 more in the next 7 months. She's pretty far from harmless, Amalie.

Jules :
What are OSI and KBa FET?

Cyril :

The Office of Special Investigation maintains a list of Known Badasses in the Far East Theater. In February 1972, the list displays more than 40 professional killers—all men—and none have more than 9 kills. By the way, Jill snuffs number 2 on the list that September, her 11th contract kill. Takes a few seconds, no weapon was found and she hangs around for a few hours, looking harmless. No one suspects her of a thing.

Doug :
Kills a pro? Was he any good?

Cyril :
Decorated Green Beret with 3 tours in the Nam, as they used to call it. He kills his wife and daughter in a jealous rage stateside. Guy drifts off the reservation after that. Has a black belt in karate, fights in tournaments all over the Far East and wins them all except for the fact that they disqualify him for fighting dirty. Seems he has a problem controlling his rage.

Alan :
Oh, was he that Army contestant who died mysteriously just before his match at the Budokan? That happened in 1972.

Cyril :
That's him.

Doug :
So, let's see if I have this right. This guy is warmed up and ready for his karate match at the Budokan when Jill takes him out in seconds without a weapon and sits around watching matches the rest of the day?

Cyril :
Pretty much.

Doug :
Damn, that's cold.

Carlo :
Gnarly is what it is.

Doug :
Got that right.

Lucia :
We didn't really answer your question on why we're reading about Jill's negotiations with professional photographers, Doug.

Doug :
Oh that? Withdrawn. I was just digging for gory details in the back story and I got those.

Annie :
You mean to say you were never really concerned at all?

Doug :
Not really. If you push on enough wall panels and bookcases, you open a secret passage that leads to a room with treasure. Right, Benny?

Benny :
That's the idea.

Annie :
In the future, you might warn us that you're wasting our time with questions when you don't really care if you get answers or not.

Doug :
You may consider it a waste of time, Annie, but I don't. Jill whacks the #2 badass in the Far East without conventional weapons at the Budokan and then kicks back to watch the rest of the competition? This is great stuff.

Marcus :
Now that we've satisfied Doug's morbid curiosity, would anyone like to try answering his question? Why are this interview with photographers and this phone conversation with Louise so important that we're reading about it in detail?

Lucia :
Doug withdrew that first question, Marcus.

Marcus :
I'd like an answer before we move on.

Benny :
Jill's ordinary, civilian routines serve as a foil to her violent, darker machinations, Marcus.

Marcus :
A foil as in literature? Like a contrast?

Benny :
Exactly. At her job, she manipulates the Aces into bidding even though they are initially reticent, just as any smart businessperson does. Compare that to her manipulation of the police and the feds. They want to catch whoever is behind the attempts on her life but she wants something else. Does anyone want to guess what that is?

Doug :
She wants more people to kill.

Benny :
Not this time, Doug. She has already taken out the first string. She wants the person funding the contracts.

Doug :
She wants to kill him . . . or her.

Benny :
I don't think so.

Maria :
Jill's here. Why don't you ask her?

Benny :
She won't answer because it's coming up in the story. Right, Jill?

Jill :
What?

Benny :

Anyway, this organized crime family has sent its own men and some hired men after Jill 3 times already. Not only have these attempts failed but also she has killed almost all of those men single-handedly despite assistance from federal agents. She knows that the crime family's human and financial resources must be nearly exhausted. All that is left are women, children and old men, perhaps one old man in particular—the head of the crime family.

Doug :
Jill must know who the old bastard is. Why doesn't she just snuff him?

Benny :
It's not Jill's style to kill old bastards, as you call him, Doug. Besides, I think she can't get at him.

Doug :
Why? Where in hell could he hide that Jill could not access with her determination and resources?

Benny :
Where indeed? I think he's in prison and I think Jill wants him to stay there and serve his sentence. However, while I do think that she wants to force him to stop sending people to kill her, she also wants to do more than just crush him. No, I think she wants to humiliate him at his own game.

Annie :

This is an intensely interesting theory, Benny. In other words, you think that she wants to force him not only to admit defeat, but also to admit defeat to his peers—the other crime bosses throughout the world.

Benny :

And to himself, Annie. You see, this war between this crime family and Jill Price has become a game of chess now and the end game is approaching. She sees a way—a dastardly and terrible way—to defeat and humiliate her opponent while sending a message that the same fate awaits those who try any such thing against her or hers.

I believe that Jill is manipulating this old man into a final attack. However, I also believe that she is not just setting him up for a checkmate, but a discovered checkmate. No matter how the opponent moves, he exposes himself to defeat—a humiliating and public defeat. The result: he must concede.

Doug :
What does she plan to do?

Benny :
I have no idea but it will be cruel and massively effective.

Annie :
What tipped you off to this theory, Benny?

Benny :

Two things Jill says in this story segment made me suspicious, Annie. Monday and Wednesday are running days, which means Tuesday and Thursday are dojo days in Jill's exercise routine. Today is Wednesday in the story part, yet Jill suggests walking the crime scene tomorrow morning, a Thursday, or dojo day. Now, Jill is not about to give up her exercise routine to review a foiled assassination attempt, so I realized that she must be manipulating the feds—specifically Agent Tony George—into suggesting Friday morning, the routine day of her run.

On top of that, she acts as if she gives a shit whether the perpetrators talk. When has Jill ever cared about proper police procedure or an individual's civil rights? Never, in all the time we've known her has she ever cared for such social formalities. All she cares about is manipulating her opponents into a humiliating death or defeat. The fact that she has amassed a spectacular fortune along the way is of little or no consequence to her. Hell, she doesn't even pay attention when her executives try to review the books with her let alone get involved in day-to-day operations. Jill Price cares about one thing and one thing only: visiting destruction upon those who oppose her. That's it.

Furthermore, I would not be surprised if her organization, especially SIA, follows her example in daily operations. Given time, access and resources, I'll bet we could find people throughout the world who can attest to the devastation visited upon those who threatened, attacked or even opposed Pere, Midori, Aliversal, JP Performance or any of Jill's other companies.

Carlos :
Tell me one more time how old you are, Benny.

Benny :
You know damn well I'm 12, Carlos. Don't act stupid.

Carlos :
I'm not acting. I am stupid. Ask my wife. I feel particularly stupid right now.

Benny :
Sorry, man. I didn't mean to disrespect you, Carlos. I love and respect you. It's just that you've asked that several times now.

Carlos :
Takes a long time to sink in, Benny.

Annie :
Carlos has a point, Benny. Your analytical abilities and insights into human nature not only suggest experience that is beyond your years but several decades beyond that of an above-average adult. I don't want to embarrass you, but please forgive us if we pause now and then to gawk in amazement at your abilities.

Benny :
You think I'm a freak.

Cyril :
We admit that we envy your abilities. We praise you in part because we're embarrassed at the beauty of your insight compared to ours but you are one of us, Benny. We're loyal to you. Just because you realize that we notice your abilities exceed ours in some ways, don't forget that we also respect and love you. Besides, we'll keep giving you a ration of shit as well as admiration. How's that?