"Hard Freeze" - читать интересную книгу автора (Simmons Dan)

CHAPTER TWO

The offices of High School Sweetheart Search, Inc. were in the basement of a former X-rated video and magazine store close to the Buffalo bus station. The XXX store had never looked too classy and looked even less so now after it had been closed for three months and the entire block condemned by the city for demolition. A little before 7:30 A.M., Arlene parked in the alley behind the store, used her key to let herself in the back door, and was surprised to find Joe working at his computer. The long room was unfurnished except for the two desks, a coatrack, a clutter of servers and cables, and a sagging couch set against one wall.

Arlene hung up her coat, set her purse on her desk, removed a pack of Marlboros from the purse and lit one, then turned on her computer and the video monitor connected to the two cameras upstairs. The abandoned interior of the adult bookstore on the monitors looked as littered and empty as always. No one had ever bothered to clean the bloodstains off the linoleum floor up there. "You sleep here again last night, Joe?"

Kurtz shook his head. He called up the court file on Donald Lee Rafferty, age 42, 1016 Locus Lane, Lockport, NY. The file showed another DWI on Rafferty's record—the third this year. Rafferty's driver's license was one point away from being pulled.

"Goddamn it to hell," said Kurtz.

Arlene looked up. Joe rarely cursed. "What?"

"Nothing."

Kurtz's e-mail announcer chirped. It was a note from Pruno, replying to Kurtz's e-mail query sent at 4:00 that morning. Pruno was a homeless wino and heroin addict who just happened to have a laptop computer in the cardboard shack he sometimes shared with another homeless man named Soul Dad. Kurtz had wondered from time to time how it was that Pruno was able to keep his laptop when the very clothes the old man wore were constantly being stolen off his back. Kurtz opened the e-mail.

Joseph: Received your e-mail and I do indeed have some information on the surviving Ms. Farino and the three gentlemen in question. I would prefer to discuss this in private since I have a request to make of you in return. Could you stop by my winter residence at your earliest convenience? Cordially—P.

"Goddamn it," Kurtz said again.

Arlene squinted at him through a haze of smoke. Her own computer monitor was filled with the day's requests for searches for former high-school boyfriends and girlfriends. She batted ashes into her ashtray but said nothing.

Kurtz sighed. It was inconvenient to go see the old man for this information, but Pruno rarely asked Kurtz for anything. Come to think of it, Pruno had never asked for anything.

The Rafferty thing, though…

"Goddamn it," whispered Kurtz.

"Anything I can help with?" asked Arlene.

"No."

"All right, Joe. But since you're here today, there are a few things you can help me with."

Kurtz turned off his computer.

"We need to find new office space," said Arlene. "This place gets demolished in a month and we get thrown out in two weeks, no matter what."

Kurtz nodded.

Arlene batted cigarette ashes again. "So are you going to have time to help me look for a new office today or tomorrow?"

"Probably not," said Kurtz.

"Then are you going to let me choose a place on my own?"

"No."

Arlene nodded. "Shall I scout some places? Let you look at them later?"

"Okay," said Kurtz.

"And you don't mind me looking during office hours?"

Kurtz just stared at his once and present secretary. She had come back to work for him the day be had gotten out of prison the previous autumn. After twelve years of hiatus. "Have I ever said anything to you about office hours or how you should spend your day?" he said at last. "You can come in and handle the on-line Sweetheart Search stuff in ten minutes for all I care. Take the rest of the day off."

"Uh-huh," said Arlene. Her look finished the sentence. Recently, the Sweetheart Search business had run to ten- and twelve-hour weekdays, most Saturdays, and the occasional Sunday. She stubbed out the cigarette and pulled out another but did not light it.

"What else do we need?" asked Kurtz.

"Thirty-five thousand dollars," said Arlene.

Kurtz reacted as he always did to surprise—with a poker face.

"It's for another server and some data-mining service," added Arlene.

"I thought this server and the data-mining we've already done would handle Sweetheart Search for the next couple of years," said Kurtz.

"They will," said Arlene. "This is for Wedding Bells."

"Wedding Bells?"

Arlene lit the next cigarette and took a long, slow drag. After exhaling, she said, "This high-school-sweetheart search was a great idea of yours, Joe, and it's making money, but we're reaching the point of diminishing returns with it."

"After four months?" said Kurtz.

Arlene moved her lacquered fingernails in a complex gesture. "What separates it from the other on-line school-sweetheart services is you tracking some of these people down on foot, delivering some of the love letters in person."

"Yeah?" said Kurtz. "So?" But he understood then. "You mean that there's only so much market share in this part of Western New York and Northern Pennsylvania and Ohio within range of my driving. Only so many old high-school yearbooks we can look through in the region. After that, we're just another on-line search agency. Yeah, I thought of that when I came up with this idea in prison, but I thought it would last longer than four months."

Arlene smiled. "Don't worry, Joe. I didn't mean that we're going to run out of yearbook sources or clients for the next couple of years. I just mean we're reaching the point of diminishing returns—or at least for your door-to-door part of it."

"So… Wedding Bells," said Kurtz.

"Wedding Bells," agreed Arlene.

"I assume that's some sort of on-line wedding-planning service. Unless you're just going to offer it as a bonus package for our successful Sweetheart Search clients."

"Oh, we can do that," said Arlene, "but I see it as a full-service on-line wedding-planning dot com. Nationwide. Beyond nationwide."

"So I won't be delivering corsages to Erie, Pennsylvania, the way I'm doing now with the love letters?"

Arlene flicked ashes. "You don't have to be involved at all if you don't want to be, Joe. Besides putting up the seed money and owning the company… and finding us an office."

Kurtz ignored this last part. "Why thirty-five thousand? That's a lot of data-mining."

Arlene carried over a folder of spreadsheet pages and notes. She stood by Kurtz's desk as he looked through it. "See, Joe, I was just grabbing bits and pieces of data from the Internet and tossing it all into an Excel spreadsheet—more or less what the present on-line wedding services do—but then I used some of our income to build a new data warehouse on Oracle81 and paid Ergos Business Intelligence to begin mining the database of all these weddings that other individuals or services had planned."

She pointed to some columns on the spreadsheet "And voila!"

Kurtz looked for patterns in the charts and columns. Finally he saw one. "Planning a fancy wedding takes two hundred and seventy to three hundred days," said Kurtz. "Almost all of them fall in that range. So does everyone know this?"

Arlene shook her head. "Some individual wedding planners do, but not the few on-line wedding-service companies. The pattern really shows up when you look at a huge mass of data."

"So how does your… our… Wedding Bells dot com cash in on this?" asked Kurtz.

Arlene pulled out other pages. "We continue using the Ergos tool to analyze this two-hundred-seventy- to three-hundred-day period and nail down exactly when each step of the operation takes place."

"What operation?" asked Kurtz. Arlene was beginning to talk like some bank robbers he'd known. "Isn't a wedding just a wedding? Rent a place, dress up, get it over with?"

Arlene rolled her eyes. Exhaling smoke, she brought her ashtray over to Kurtz's desk and flicked ashes into it. "See, here, at this point early on? Here's the bride's search for a dress. Every bride has to search for a dress. We offer links to designers, seamstresses, even knock-off designer dress suppliers."

"But Wedding Bells wouldn't be just a bunch of hyperlinks, would it?" asked Kurtz, frowning slightly.

Arlene shook her head and stubbed out her cigarette. "Not at all. The clients give us a profile at the beginning and we offer everything from full service down. We can handle everything—absolutely everything. From sending out invitations to tipping the minister. Or the clients can have us plan some of it and just have us connect them to the right people for other decision points along the way—either way, we make money."

Arlene lit another cigarette and ruffled through the stack of papers. She pointed to a highlighted line on a 285-day chart. "See this point, Joe? Within the first month, they have to decide on locations for the wedding and the reception. We have the biggest database anywhere and provide links to restaurants, inns, picturesque parks, Hawaiian resorts, even churches. They give us their profile and we make suggestions, then connect them to the appropriate sites."

Kurtz had to grin. "And get a kickback from every one of those places… except maybe the churches."

"Hah!" said Arlene. "Weddings are important revenue sources for churches and synagogues. They want in Wedding Bells dot com, they give us a piece of the action. No negotiation there."

Kurtz nodded and looked at the rest of the spreadsheets. "Wedding consultants referred. Honeymoon locations recommended and discounts offered. Limos lined up. Even airline tickets reserved for relatives and the wedding couple. Flowers. Catering. You provide local sources and Web links to everything, and everyone pays Wedding Bells dot com. Nice." He closed the folder and handed it back to her. "When do you need the seed money?"

"This is Thursday," said Arlene. "Monday would be nice."

"All right Thirty-five thousand on Monday." He grabbed his peacoat from the coatrack and slipped a semiauto pistol in his belt The weapon was the relatively small and light.40 SW99—a licensed Smith amp; Wesson version of the Walther P99 double-action service pistol. Kurtz had ten rounds in the magazine and a second magazine in his coat pocket Considering the fact that the SW99 fired formidable.40 Samp;W loads rather than the more common 9mms, Kurtz trusted that twenty cartridges would do the trick.

"Will you be back in the office before the weekend?" asked Arlene as Kurtz opened the rear door.

"Probably not."

"Anywhere I can reach you?"

"You can try Pruno's e-mail in the next hour or so," said Kurtz. "After that, probably not. I'll give you a call here at the office before the weekend."

"Oh, you can call here Saturday or Sunday, too," said Arlene. "I'll be here."

But Kurtz was out the door and gone and the sarcasm was wasted.