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Lucky for me. I get the good meal, and the showgirl gets Johnny Garelli for dessert.

When my lunch was delivered, I closed the door to the office and ate by myself, enjoying the solitude. It never lasted long.

The first knock on the door was Mark Acciano. I waved him in.

“What did you think?” he asked eagerly.

“Great summation, really good job. Thoughtful, thorough, impassioned.
You gave it your best shot. Now you’ve got to let the jurors go to work you’ve given them all the tools they need to reach the right result. The rest is in their hands.” We chatted about the case and I told him I would try to be with him when the verdict came in, to beep me when he got the call.
Then came Phil Weinfeld, aka The Whiner. He had two traits that made Sarah and me cringe every time he loomed in the doorway of my office.
First was what we called the “I knew that‘ problem. He’d call and urgently plead for ten minutes of my time, come over and present a hypothetical, and then ask for guidance. The ten-minute presentation never took less than half an hour, and at the end, when Sarah or I made a suggestion which obviously caught Phil by surprise, he’d say, ”I knew that.“ Then what did you bother me for in the first place?

The other thing he was known for, much to the aggravation of most of his colleagues, was his insistence on seeking advice from eight or ten of us on exactly the same issue, without revealing that he had already consulted the others. We used to joke that if he got hit by a bus on his way home in the middle of the trial, the case wouldn’t even need an hour’s adjournment. There’d be at least a dozen of us who knew the facts every bit as well as he did who could pick up the file and carry on to the verdict.

He had worn out his welcome with Sarah, who’d begin every conversation with him by asking, “How many other assistants have you asked about this already?” If he’d been through it with half of the bureau, she’d point to the door and tell him to get lost.

“What’s up, Phil?”

“Have you got a few minutes for a question, Alex?”

“A few.”

“I’m having a problem with the witness in the case that you assigned me in September, the woman whose old boyfriend came back to her apartment to pick up his clothes, and then beat her to a pulp when she wouldn’t have sex with him? You know which one I mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, she canceled three appointments with me. Kept telling me that she didn’t want to prosecute ‘cause she still loved him. I was trying to work out a plea with his lawyer, figuring I’d rather take a misdemeanor assault than have him walk away with no record.”

“What’s the problem?” ne “She just called me in hysterics. Changed her mind ; on completely. She went to a psychic this morning for a consultation.
Didn’t tell the psychic any of their history, , as nothing about the guy, and the psychic does her reading and says, ”There’s a man in your life who’s very dangerous.“ She flipped. She’s terrified. Now she wants to go all est the way with the case.” tier “You mean the ex puts her in the hospital with two fractured ribs, a loose tooth, a broken nose and a black eye, but it took a swami to convince her the guy is dangerous?

Unbelievable. I’m sure she’s sitting in front of the psychic with a huge shiner and her nose relocated next to her ear, and the genius figures out that a dangerous man hit her.

Maybe we ought to put a psychic on the payroll to help with recalcitrant witnesses.“

“What should I do about the plea offer I made?”

“Withdraw it. If the schmuck was too stupid to take it and run, bring her in tomorrow while she’s still hot to testify and put the case in the Grand Jury. Assign the arresting officer, even if it’s his RDO‘ regular day off’ and I’ll authorize the overtime. Indict him and let’s get the felony instead of the misdemeanor. Be sure her order of protection is renewed.” I “Yeah, I know that. I’ll take care of it.”

“Anything else today?”

“Nope that’s it. I’ll let you know what happens.”

The rest of the day passed quickly with the usual array of cases and customers. Every time the phone rang I feared it would be Battaglia, and I played with the idea of asking him whether I should keep the meet with Johnny Garelli.

But he didn’t look for me once, and since I knew he would have been disapproving, I simply avoided having to deal with the issue.

Mike called me a little before four o’clock when he reached the squad.

“What a wimp you are,” I chided him.

“Couldn’t even call me to tell me about the Quinn sisters making the hit on the photo of Jed, could you?”

“Frankly, I didn’t want to tell you, you’re right about that.

You didn’t seem to want to accept the obvious from the first time we talked about it.“

“Have you told his lawyer about the photo ID yet?”

“Nah. I just got in. I’ll call him later. Meanwhile, the lieutenant tells me you’ve accepted our mission gonna throw some moves on Johnny Garelli tonight. Did you find him?”

“Piece of cake. It’s all set.”

“Where’s the meet?”

“Rao’s. Can you do it?”

“Way to go, blondie. We’re both in for a good evening.”

“You can get a table at Rao’s? I can’t believe it.”

“No way. But I can get a seat at the bar. And once I’m in, the whole joint is so small I can scope it all pretty easy.

Joey’s aces, the best. He’ll let me sit there all night, and Vie will keep my glass looking full.“ The restaurant was owned by Joey Palomino a real charmer, who not only ran the business, but also acted in a number of movies and TV series, usually playing cops and detectives. He was good to the industry luminaries who frequented Rao’s, but just as nice to the guys who let him hang out at precincts and squad rooms to learn the ropes. And Vie was one of those astounding bartenders who would see a customer like me walk in someone who wasn’t likely to get there more than twice a year point a finger at me, raise an eyebrow, and say, ”Dewar’s on the rocks, am I right?“

“So what do I do, Mike? Johnny wants me to meet him there at eight.” “I’ll make sure I’m there at seven-thirty. I’ll see if I can get Maureen Forester freed up from her bodyguard detail to go with me, so it looks like I got a date.” Maureen was one of the best detectives in the city, with the added advantages of being great-looking and having a superb sense of humor.

“We’ll be at the bar.

“Nobody’s expecting any trouble, but this way you’ll have us at your elbow if the guy does anything jerky. Sit and have a nice dinner. See if you can find out what his relationship was like with Isabella near the end. So far, nobody we’ve talked to in L.A. has any idea where this goofball was the week of the murder. See if you can ease anything out of him.”

“What’ll you do until then?”

“See what other information came in today. If I don’t speak to you before dinner, you should let the Gorilla take you home from the restaurant. Then Maureen and I will come up for a nightcap when we see him pull away, and we can compare notes on the day, okay?”

“Yeah. See you later.”

I called Mark Acciano’s office to see how the deliberations were going in his trial. His paralegal answered and explained that Mark was still in the courtroom. The jurors had asked for a lot of read back most of the testimony of the complaining witness, which meant that at least one person, maybe more, were fighting on her behalf. That process alone would take several hours, so it was unlikely there would be a verdict this evening.

“Please tell Mark I can’t wait it out with him tonight. I’m sort of working on something else. But my beeper will be on in case he gets a result sooner than I think.” I wished the team good luck and hung up.

Pat McKinney was standing in the doorway.

“I just got a call from Maureen Forester. She’s body guarding that pros wha’s a material witness in a drug conspiracy murder case that Guadagno’s on trial with. She says you’ve got an emergency need a female undercover that I’ve got to relieve her for the evening. Do I need to know about this?”

Shit. Not if I can help it. Oh, Mo I wouldn’t exactly have called this an emergency.

“Well, you know that pattern we’re trying to break up the Con Ed guy?”

“Oh, it’s related to that?”

“Not ex-‘ ”You’re not using her for a decoy or anything, are you?“

“No, of course not.” I wasn’t lying, I was just stalling for an excuse. I think all the people who’d been testing my good nature all week had something contagious that I had picked up. Well, it was very unlikely that Pat would ever find out about my evening plans.

“Okay, Alex, you can have her but you’re going to have to call around and get somebody to replace her on the bodyguard. My wife and I have theater tickets tonight, and I just don’t have time to hang out here begging the squad commander for a replacement. It’s in your lap, okay?”

“Fine.” Don’t let your current state of despair get the better of you, Alex, I tried to tell myself. How does a sour, mean-spirited grouch like Pat get himself a wife who he can take to the theater at the end of a busy day, while I can’t find a decent guy to save my life? Karen McKinney’s a boring, computer science techno-nerd professor at Brooklyn College, but it still must be awfully nice to have someone to o home to and leave all this bad news behind. ,n I called Chapman at the office and told him what I mped it back on me. If you want Maureen, is I’ve got to get someone to bodyguard Mo’s witness at the ;r hotel overnight. Any ideas? Is she difficult?“ ie ”Nah. We’re just trying to keep her straight during the trial. Junkie. We call her the Princess. She’s from the suburbs, very agreeable. Shoots up in her armpits so she doesn’t leave any tracks for her old man to see. Easy to baby-sit no problem as long as you keep her away from the stuff. I’ll make some calls and have someone up there in an hour. Don’t worry about it.“

My second line was flashing. Laura signaled that Joan Stafford was on the telephone.

“Can you believe how bad it is? Even Pat McKinney has more of a life than I do,” I moaned into the line.

“Little wonder, Alex. I’m thinking of having a Cooper family crest designed for you. A symbol of Athena, with a broken heart, and an inscription in Latin: ”I sure know how to pick ‘em.“” “Why? More from Jed?”

“Alex, he’s going over the edge. Now he’s calling me constantly. I love you dearly, but I’ve got a deadline with my editor and I’ll never make it if I try to keep Jed at bay for you. I can’t keep up with his calls. Maybe you should just hear him out for an hour tonight and get it over with. He can’t understand why you won’t respond to his messages.”

“Joan, there are no messages. He’s manipulative and dishonest. Look, I’ll speak with his secretary and have her tell him to leave you alone, but don’t suggest for a minute that I see him. I’m busy tonight, working. You’re an angel I’ll get you out of this one, promise.”

The last call of the afternoon was to David Mitchell.

“How’s everything been going today, Alex?”

I’m not looking for a diagnosis of my condition, I just need help with the case.

“Much better, David, thanks. Got something for me?”

“Yes. I checked first thing this morning. There is no psychiatrist in England named Cordelia Jeffers, nor is there any record that there ever has been. At least she’s not a licensed M.D.” and there was never anyone by that name who was admitted to the Royal Academy.“

Curiouser and curiouser.

David went on.

“I’d like to look at the letters again, if I may. I’ll probably have a few more questions for you after I do. Did you remember to make copies?”

I told him I’d make them right now and slide them under his door before my dinner date.

I closed up for the day and walked out of the office to look for a cab.
The fall air was heavy and the thick clouds made an evening rainstorm likely. I grabbed a yellow on the corner of Worth Street and gave him my address. The inside of the taxi smelled like a corral for a herd of camels, and like so many of the new additions to the fleet of drivers in the past few years, the man at the wheel didn’t seem to recognize too many words in the English language.

We attempted to make ourselves clear to each other by a combination of waving arms and grunts, but I yielded to the fact that I would have to stay on top of him for the entire ride to make sure he knew where I wanted to go.

“Here she is now,” I heard Anthony, the second doorman, tell the young delivery boy, who was barely visible behind they the tall array of two dozen yellow roses.

“Miss Cooper, want on me to send the kid up with you?”

“No thanks, Anthony.” I stepped to the table along the wall near the mailboxes and withdrew a pen and a twenty-dollar bill from my pocketbook. I removed the card, ripped up Jed’s pathetic note “Please I really need your est help‘ and gave the kid back the flowers along with the tip.

I scratched on the envelope the words “With gratitude for all you do,” relied on the old theory that anonymous giving was really the most generous form of the art, and directed the kid to New York Hospital, which was just a few blocks down the street.

“Sorry, this was a mistake. They were supposed to be delivered to the burn unit at the hospital.

Just leave them there, at the nurses’ station, okay?“

The young man didn’t seem too annoyed, and I continued on my way upstairs. I heard Zac bark as I slipped “Dr.”

Jef fers’s letters under David’s door, and I unlocked my own apartment and went inside to change for my rendezvous ‘ with Johnny. No mail of any interest except a postcard from Nina and a request from the Wellesley Alumni Magazine for an update on my activities for the class notes. My schoolmates would be about as interested in my goings-on as I am in the news of their Zen weddings on hilltops in the Rockies, their inventive mothering styles, and the I impractical topics of their postdoctoral theses. I ripped up I the request and saved the notice to send in my annual dues before the end of the month. No messages on the machine, either, so I showered and selected a slinky black outfit to wear for dinner.

I was ready to go and called for a car service to take me uptown, as I waited for the Final Jeopardy question to come on, just before the seven-thirty close of the show.

BOOK: Fairstein, Linda - Final Jeopardy
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