16 Hitman (25 page)

"Including that of Richard Rosenberg, the attorney for the
plaintiff in this lawsuit?"

"That's right."

"Were you working for Mr. Rosenberg when you took these
pictures?" The attorney's smile was smug. "If you'd like to evade
the question, feel free"

Richard sprang to his feet. "Oh,Your Honor."

Judge Epstein banged her gavel. "That will do. Jurors will disregard the last remark. Witness will answer the question"

"My agency was employed by Mr. Rosenberg."

"When you saw the plaintiff in the hospital, you signed him to
a retainer?"

"That's right"

"What was the attorney's name on the retainer?"

"Richard Rosenberg."

"Well, forgive me for assuming you were evading the question,"
the attorney said sarcastically. "So, these photos you allegedly took,
which Mr. Rosenberg is offering into evidence-"

"Object to the word allegedly, Your Honor."

"Overruled. The witness can clarify in his answer."

"When you alle'cdly took those photos, who were you working
for then?"

"I was allegedly working for Richard Rosenberg"

The defense attorney scowled.

The judge had a narrow escape from a grin.

"How much money were you paid for these photos?"

"I can't say, exactly. I assume it was a two- or three-hour
assignment."

"A hundred dollars?"

"It's possible."

"More?"

"It's possible."

"As much as a thousand."

"Absolutely not."

"How do you know?"

"If I'd made a thousand bucks, believe me, I'd know."

"Are you being paid for your time in court?"

"Yes, I am."

"Who is paying you?"

"Richard Rosenberg of Rosenberg and Stone."

"He pays your salary?"

"I explained it's not a salary."

"He pays your fees?"

"That's right."

"Oh,Your Honor," Richard objected. "This is voir dire."

"Yes, it is," the defense attorney said. "The witness has identified these photographs. He has testified when he took them. The
last is very much in question. The bias of the witness is entirely
relevant."

"I will stipulate this is a friendly witness," Richard said.

"That's not enough,Your Honor. If the witness is biased in the
plaintiff's favor, if he has a monetary stake in the outcome of the
case, that's something I have every right to bring out."

"Proceed," Judge Epstein ruled.

"Are you biased in the plaintiff's favor?"

"I barely know the plaintiff."

"You are employed by the plaintiff's side of the case. Including
his attorney, Mr. Rosenberg. Are you telling me you're not biased
in their favor?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"You're absolutely not biased in their favor?"

"No, I absolutely am."

"What?"

"I'm biased in their favor. I want them to win."

Judge Epstein squinted down from the bench. "Excuse me, Mr.
Hastings. Are you aware of what you're saying? Of what the words
mean? Just because you're working for someone, doesn't mean
you're biased for them. Bias indicates a prejudice that colors your
testimony regardless of the truth. Is that what you claim?"

"I mean to tell the truth,Your Honor. But if I can slant it the
plaintiff's way, I'm certainly going to. I'm also going to do everything in my power to hurt the defense."

Judge Epstein blinked. "Excuse me? What did you just say?"

"Besides being biased for the plaintiff, I'm also biased against
the defense."

The attorney looked like he'd just won the lottery. "Wait a
minute. Let me be sure the jury understood that. You say you are
biased against the defendant in this case?"

"That's right"

"Do you know the defendant?"

"No, I do not."

The attorney was practically rubbing his hands together. "Then
why are you biased against him?"

"He tried to have me shot."

I HUNTED UP MACAULLIF IN his office. He looked none the
worse for wear. "You on paid leave too?" I asked him.

"I should be so lucky. If I'd killed the fucker, I would be. Unfortunately, Thurman did, so I get dick."

"What was Thurman doing there?"

"Following you. He's been tailing you ever since they shot up
your car.

"Why?"

"Because he's not as smart as you."

"Huh?"

"He's not smart enough to overthink everything with tortuous
logic. Thurman goes straight for the obvious. If someone is shooting
at you, it must be because they want you shot. Granted, that's
probably not enough for you to wrap your mind around, but that's
all it was"

"What were you doing there?"

"Thurman called me."

"You're kidding"

"Said you were out to lunch with a piece of ass."

"That's news?"

"You seen yourself lately? No way a girl like that gives you a
tumble."

"Thanks a lot."

"Hey, even Thurman thought it stank. You, of course, expect
Angelina Jolie to fall for you. But in the real world, you don't rate a
second look. Thurman called me, and I came by to see for myself."

"Why?"

"It's only two blocks. I needed a good laugh."

"No, really."

"I asked Thurman to give me a call if you did anything dumb.
I expected the phone to ring off the hook. Actually, he didn't call
till you picked up a girl."

"I didn't pick up a girl."

"No, she picked you up. Which should have been your first
clue. A hot babe like that picking up an old fart like you."

It should have. But I'd blown it. And so had Alice, actually, if I
wanted to bring it up. Not that I ever would. But with all the
politically correct heing and s{wing and hinting and tiering, the
whole time we'd been talking about a hitman when we should
have been talking about a hitperson. To allow for the possibility of
a hitwoman. Which, in fact, there was.

Hitman #3 was Hitperson #3.

Hitwoman #3.

Amanda Peet.

And once you accepted that, it all made sense.

Sort of.

"Run it by me again," MacAullif said.

"Aw, hell."

I'd already made a statement for Crowley, with a lawyer and
stenographer and the whole bit. Richard was there to get me immunity, which he did. Of course, the same didn't hold true for
MacAullif, if Crowley wanted to make a stink. So he had more than
an academic interest.

"You can read my statement," I told him.

"Yeah, but they may question me before I get a chance to read
your statement. I'd like to be on the same page."

Sergeant Thurman came in. Which was a little odd. You can't
kiss off someone who saved your life. Jesus Christ, was I now his
genie, bound to serve his every whim?

Thank god, he didn't throw his arms around me, make a fuss,
or even ask how I was. From Thurman's point of view, he'd done
his job, and that was that.

Except it wasn't his job, he was on leave on account of the other
shooting, and by rights he shouldn't have been there at all.

"Are you in trouble?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Nah. They're so happy to get these guys, I get a
free ride."

"Do you know what happened?" MacAullif asked. He
shouldn't have. A Sergeant Thurman explanation is an oxymoron.

Thurman wasn't even going to try. "Don't know, don't care.
The bad guys went down, it'll all get sorted out."

Thurman flopped into a chair as if he were there to watch baseball. He'd have looked natural with a Lite Beer.

"Stanley was just about to tell us," MacAullif said. "Go on,
Stanley."

It was a little weird with Thurman there. But there was that
whole genie thing. "Okay, I'd been thinking about the case upside
down. The minute I realized I was the target, things fell into place"

"Hey," MacAullif said. "We're not interested in a self-congratulatory diatribe on your powers of deduction."

"Damn, you speak well for a cop," I said. If MacAullif was
going to mock nle in front of Thurman, I wasn't just going to
take it.

"Asshole. I'm on the hook here. For trying to help you out.You
wanna stop whacking off long enough to give me a reach-around?"

Thurman chuckled at that.

"That sounds more like a cop."

"Come on, asshole."

"Okay. Victor Marsden is a hitman for the mob. For years he's
carried out hits on low-level thugs and hoods, as befits a mob
hitman."

"Listen to this guy," MacAullif told Thurman. "He says buts,
and he makes fain of how I talk."

"What happens? Marsden is asked to kill someone else.
Someone with no connections to the mob whatsoever. A family
man with a wife and kid who wouldn't hurt a fly. I assumed it was
Martin Kessler, just like everyone else. I was shocked to find out it
was me.

"Why'd they want to kill you?" Thurman asked.

I could see MacAullif loading up a wisecrack. I hurried along.
"Because I handled the case of Phillip Fairbourne, the quadriplegic who fell in a stairway in East Harlem. The building is managed by J.T.C. Realty."

"Which is run by the mob?" Thurman said.

"No. Which is run by Chester T. Markowitz, the nicest Jewish
gentleman one would ever want to meet"

"They let Jews in the mob?" Thurman said.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. It was hard to hate a guy
who saved your life. If it could have been anyone else. "No. But
J.T.C. Realty is insured by Prime Metro, an independent insurance company offering catastrophic coverage at exorbitant rates."

"Why would anyone buy from them?"

"They got a talking lizard and they advertise on TV."

Thurman's eyes widened. "They're Geico?"

MacAullif shot me a warning look.

"No. They're Tony Fusilli's idiot nephew. They bust heads. They come in, they say, `Do you want to switch to our coverage,
yes you do.' Most people switch. Otherwise, they have business
problems. Like their store burns down.

"Tony Fusilli's idiot nephew tried to sell J.T.C. Realty an insurance policy. They balked at the amount. Bad move. The young
psychopath, deeply offended, made a counteroffer: J.T.C. Realty
would take the insurance and sell him one of its properties at a
criminally negligible price.

"So the idiot nephew winds up owning a building. He immediately sells himself insurance, and pays himself a commission on
the sale. Which is all well and good until Prime Metro, a wholly
owned subsidiary of Tony Fusilli Enterprises, is suddenly on the
hook for umpty million dollars because a quadriplegic fell in the
building and he's gonna sue."

I pressed on, before Sergeant Thurman could ask how a quadriplegic could fall in a building. "I handled the case. Took the
Location of Accident pictures of the broken stairs. Which were in
bad repair. Pretty clear-cut case. Slam dunk. Except no one wants
to pay that kind of money, so they immediately begin covering up.
The stairs are repaired overnight. The super is set to swear they
were repaired before the accident. Only I got the pictures, and I
can testify to when they were taken. The jurors take one look at
the quadriplegic, and the steps that caused the accident, and the
fact they tried to cover it up, and Tony Fusilli and his idiot nephew
will be on the hook.

"So I gotta go.

"Victor Marsden is chosen for the task.

"To the man's credit, he didn't want to do it. He checked me
out, couldn't justify taking my life. So he came up with a unique
solution. He asked me if I'd help him try not to. Of course, he
couldn't tell me I was the mark, that would have defeated his own
purpose. So he refused to tell me who it was. Said if I found out
on my own, it was my business.

"He also wouldn't give me his name. He knew I'd check him
out, and I'd never work for Victor Marsden. So he tells me he's
Martin Kessler. For two reasons. One practical, one whimsical.
Kessler has no record, will check out clean. And, Kessler is involved
with his ex-girlfriend. If I make trouble for Martin Kessler, that's
the icing on the cake.

"While I'm checking Kessler out, the boys lean on Marsden pretty
hard. How come I'm still alive? Is he slipping? What's the problem?

"Marsden assured them everything is fine, but no one is taking
his word for it. So they put Frankie Delgado on him."

"Hitman Number 2?" MacAullif said.

It took me back to hear someone voicing that appellation
besides Alice. I forgot I'd told MacAullif. "Right," I said. "And
what does he see? He sees Marsden arrange a chance meeting
with me in a bar. At least, that's how it looks to him. Hitman
Number 2, I mean. Marsden has told me he's gonna pretend it's a
chance meeting. So I play right along. So, Hitman Number 2 sees
Marsden scope me out, double-check the ID.

"What's next is Phony Double-Dealing, Double-Tailing oneoh-one. I am `hired' to tail Marsden to see if anyone is taking an
interest in him. I am told not to pick him up at the school where
he teaches because he doesn't want me seen there. The reason he
doesn't want me seen there, is because he doesn't work there. I will,
instead, pick him up outside of my building. Without acknowledging his presence or making any move on him. In case someone
should be watching.

"Someone is watching. That's the whole point.

"So I tail Marsden. But, as far as the person watching is concerned, because we are making no contact, and constantly shifting
positions in a gigantic do-si-do, it looks like Marsden picked me
up at my office and is tailing me.

"What happens? I lead Marsden a merry chase and go back to
my office. At which point he hangs it up and goes home.

"I follow

"Marsden, savvy guy that he is, realizes he's got two tails. He
hangs out in the lobby, receives Hitman Number 2, ushers him up
to his apartment. Goes out and convinces yours truly that Hitman
Number 2 lives there and Hitman Number 2 is the mark. He
sends me on my way, and goes back home and convinces Hitman
Number 2 that there is no problem and I will be out of their hair
tomorrow.