Caper (13 page)

“Too bad. Guess who's dead.”

“The congressman?”

“Now how do you know that?”

“Why would you care if it was anyone else?”

“So that was a wild guess?”

“Not so wild, if I'm right. How'd he die?”

“Wanna take a wild guess at that?”

“I'd rather hear it from you.”

“I'll bet you would. He was whacked over the head with a poker. Bashed in his skull. Died almost instantly. Fell in the hearth.”

“In the hearth?”

“Yeah.”

“Any chance he just tripped and hit his head?”

“The back of his head with the front of the poker?” MacAullif scowled. “That's not as stupid as it sounds. The body was face down. The back of his head was up. His face was covered with ashes. The back of his head was not. He had fallen face down in the hearth after being hit in the back of the head while standing up. The murder weapon was lying next to the body.”

“You search it for prints?”

“I'm sure you wiped yours off.”

“I didn't kill him, MacAullif.”

“I never thought you did. Not really your style. Of course, I know you. Other cops may take a less generous view.”

“I'm sure you'll straighten them out.”

MacAullif ignored that, picked up the second cigar. “You know how the cops found the body?”

“You said face down in the hearth.”

“That's
where
they found the body. I mean what led them to it. They got an anonymous tip.”

“Oh?”

“Pay phone on Madison Avenue. Four blocks from the apartment. Just where the killer would call from, if he wanted to leave an anonymous tip.”

“Why would a killer do that?”

“I have no idea. On the other hand, if a wiseass private eye stumbled over the body, that's the phone he would probably use. It's the closest working pay phone to the crime scene. So if a private eye wanted to report the crime, but knew his cell phone would be traced …”

“If a private eye did that, would it be a crime?”

“Finding a dead body and failing to report it? Sure it would be a crime.”

“That's not failing to report it. That's reporting it.”

“Failing to report it in a timely fashion.”

“What's a timely fashion? Ten minutes? Fifteen minutes? I'd like to see a lawyer have a go at that one.”

“I hope it doesn't come to that.”

“Me, too. Be a huge waste of time.”

“Which brings us back to the phone number I gave you. It's a big problem for me. If you took that phone number I gave you, used it to see if the congressman was at home, somehow got in to see him, found him dead, hightailed it out of there and made an anonymous phone call to the police to tip them off, it would put me in very bad position. I would be obliged to turn you in. Otherwise, I could be suspended. Possibly lose my pension.” MacAullif sighed. “You see the position I'm in?”

He looked truly distraught.

“What do you want me to do?”

MacAullif's lip quivered.

Oh, my God! He was going to cry. This macho, tough, beefy cop was actually going to cry. It was an amazing, extraordinary human moment.

I didn't want to see it.I didn't want to be a part of it. I didn't want to humiliate MacAullif in a manner that would haunt our relationship, if any, for years to come.

His lip quivered some more. His face twisted, and …

He burst out laughing.

There he was, rocking up and down in his chair, roaring with laughter, pointing the cigars at me. “Gotcha, didn't I? I really had you going! Oh, if you could see the look on your face. It was priceless. Poor fuck wondering what the hell you were going to do.”

I blinked. “MacAullif?”

“I swear to God,” MAcAullif said between guffaws, “for a minute I thought you were going to cop to the thing. You were really buying it.”

I blinked again. “And just what was I buying?”

“The whole found-the-body bit. I could see the scenario playing out in your head. Suppose you copped to finding the body and making the phone call, even though it wasn't true, just to cut me a break. Would the cops take that at face value? Or would they peg you for the crime? I mean, I could see you in your super do-gooder mode, confessing to a technical offense to help me out, but copping to a felony is a bit much. Were you really going to do it?”

“Do what? MacAullif, you wanna let me in on the joke?”

“I been yanking your chain. Ever since I dragged you in here. I happen to
know
you didn't do it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Cops got the killer.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“Oh? Did I leave that part out? I suppose it's worth mentioning. The cops apprehended the killer at the scene of the crime. Which is a bit of a break. But what with the phone call about the disturbance and all, the cops were on the scene before the guy got away. So, while this case has every element of one I should be busting your chops for, it turns out you're in the clear.”

“Oh, my God.”

MacAullif nodded. “I find it had to believe myself. But that's the situation. Much as this looks like your handiwork, it isn't. Any relationship you had with the congressman is entirely coincidental, and not to be inferred.”

“Who's the killer?”

“Some low-level building contractor, been making quote unquote
campaign contributions
to the congressman for a long time, evidently not happy about the congressman failing to deliver on some zoning ordinance or other. As if these things were bought and sold. ‘Hey, why they hassling me? I thought I paid that off.' The congressman doesn't give him satisfaction, and the guy bashes in his head.”

“Oh, my God. You say the cops found him at the crime scene?”

“That's right. Very nice. Isn't often you get one all tied up in ribbons for you.”

“Got his rap sheet?”

“Didn't have one. This isn't
The Sopranos
, where a contractor is having people whacked on the side. The congressman would appear to be his first kill. And his first conviction, unless some punk ADA blows it.”

“What about his record on this arrest?”

“What about it?”

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“I'd like to see his mug shot.”

“Why?”

I wasn't sure. My head was spinning with each new bit of information. But, if what MacAullif said was true, it opened up an alarming new possibility. The killer had been there, hiding in the congressman's apartment, while I searched the body. Never mind the fact I might have been killed; in fact, it was probably a miracle I wasn't. But where was he hiding? In another room? In a closet? Was he peeking out? Did he see me? Did he see what I was doing? Did he see my face? If the killer's lawyer got him out on bail, was he someone I would have to look out for?

Might he suspect that I had spotted him?

MacAullif was back in minutes with a manila folder. He didn't hand it to me right away but went and sat behind his desk. “Now,” he said, “I want you to know why I'm giving you this. I'm giving you this because you were a good boy and didn't fuck me up over the congressman's phone number. Which would be your normal course of action. I'm giving you this as an incentive to continue to strive in that direction. Am I getting through to you? Are my words having any effect?”

“I am Pavlov's dog, associating good behavior with a reward.”

“Wasn't there a bell involved?” MacAullif said.

“You're so much better-educated than you act.”

“Fuck you.”

MacAullif handed over the file.

I flipped it open, looked at the mug shot.

I felt like I'd been slugged in the stomach.

It was the guy I'd seen in the lobby of the congressman's apartment building, coming in as I was going out.

27

I
LOOKED UP TO FIND
M
AC
A
ULLIF WATCHING ME NARROWLY.

“Know him?” MacAullif said.

I looked at the name on the file. “Leslie Hanson? I can't say as I do.”

“You looked like the mug shot surprised you.”

“Well, it did. It was supposed to be a mug shot. The guy looks like a schoolteacher.”

“I'm sure they kill people, too. So, there's your killer. It will be on the evening news, but you get it early for being a good boy. Now, run along. I got work to do.”

This was bad. Real bad. Leslie Hanson didn't kill the congressman. I knew that. Knew it for sure. When Leslie Hanson went in, the congressman was already dead. I was the perfect alibi witness. All I had to do was open my mouth, and the guy was off the hook.

And I was on it.

What a fucking mess.

“Hang on, MacAullif. Let me think this through.”

“What's to think through? Case is solved.”

“Yes, but.”

“But what?”

“It's a little too pat, isn't it?”

“Catching the killer does take the fun out of it,” MacAullif said ironically. “But they can't all be ready for prime-time television. In real life, you have to take what you get.”

“Maybe so, but tell me this? How do you know he didn't just walk in and find the guy dead.”

“Couldn't happen.”

“Why not?”

“Got a witness.”

“Who?”

“Doorman.”

“What?”

“The doorman confirms Leslie Hanson went up to see the congressman. The cops got video from the surveillance camera of the congressman's car driving into the garage. From the time he got home, the only person who came to call on him was Leslie Hanson.”

“Yes, but that's not definitive.”

“It's pretty damning. It's hard to kill a guy if you aren't there. The guy who
is
there is head and shoulders above a guy who isn't there on the suspect list.”

“I don't see why. If you were going to kill a guy, you'd want to make damn sure you weren't identified as the guy who
was
there.”

“Maybe he didn't intend to kill him. Maybe he just happened to pick up the poker.”

“You're arguing against premeditation? I don't think the prosecutor's gonna like that.”

“I'm only arguing with
you
. I don't think the prosecutor gives a shit about that.”

“I still say it's highly likely the guy just walked in and found him.”

“Then how'd he get in the door?”

“Killer left it unlocked.”

“Yeah, right,” MacAullif scoffed.

“Not an unlikely scenario. The killer'd
want
some scapegoat to get caught with the body.”

“Sure, sure,” MacAullif said. “I just let you rattle on to see how far you'd take this. But, frankly, it's getting boring. The fact is, it couldn't have happened.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. We got a witness. Doorman called upstairs to tell the congressman he had a visitor. Congressman said send him up. Which more or less cinches it. Narrows the window of opportunity for your other killer from an hour and whatever down to zero. Leslie Hanson's the guy.”

My head was coming off. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. That can't be right.”

“Why not? Would you rather it was you? You'd be a prime suspect, what with your recent history with the guy. Thanks to Leslie Hanson, you probably won't even be questioned. Which is all to the good, since you won't have to answer any embarrassing questions about where you got his phone number.”

“MacAullif. Just because the doorman says he talked to the congressman doesn't mean he did. What if it was the killer who answered the phone and said send him up?”

“Gee, what an excellent idea,” MacAullif said, ironically. “If only the cops had thought of that. They might have asked the doorman if he recognized the congressman's voice.”

“Maybe I should call 'em up and suggest it.”

“Look, numbnuts. The doorman's sure. The guy was alive one minute, dead the next. Hanson's guilty, the case is over, everyone's happy. It was fun yanking your chain, but now you're becoming a drag. Get the fuck out of my office and let me get back to my other cases. Christ, I wish they were all as easy as this.”

With an air of finality, MacAullif flipped the file closed on his desk.

I stumbled out of MacAullif's office in a daze.

The doorman was lying. MacAullif was absolutely right about him knowing the congressman's voice, and not mistaking it with the killer's. But he hadn't done that. He'd made the whole thing up out of whole cloth. Because it was the supercilious son of a bitch's
job
to announce all visitors. But he didn't always do it. If he'd seen the guy before, and knew where he was going, he didn't always bother. But he'd never admit that. Because it was his job to do it. And he could lose his job for
not
doing it. And he wasn't going to say he
hadn't
done it. So, he lied and said he'd rung upstairs, when in point of fact he hadn't. Because if the congressman was dead, the congressman couldn't answer the phone and say it was okay for Leslie Hanson to come up. And under the rules of the building, the rules the doorman was supposed to follow, Leslie Hanson would not have been allowed to go up.

So the doorman had lied to protect his wrinkly old ass, and the fact it put someone on the hook for a murder they didn't commit was just too damn bad.

I could burst his bubble. I could get the son of a bitch fired.

Of course, what I could get myself would be probably somewhat worse than that.

It was the worst of all possible worlds.

28

R
ICHARD WAS, AS
I'
D EXPECTED, AS SARCASTIC AS
M
AC
A
ULLIF.
Only better informed.

“So. You hold a human being's fate in your hands. That's tricky.”