Puzzled Indemnity Page 16
“It’s not funny, Becky.”
“No, it’s serious. There’s two million bucks at stake here. You mess it up, you think my client’s not gonna come after you?”
“You’d sue me?”
“I wouldn’t sue you, but my client might. She’s drunk with power and wants to take on the world. If she wants to sue you, I can’t stop her. I can drop her as a client, throw a six-figure contingency fee out the window, if that’s what you think I ought to do.”
“Of course not.”
“I’d have to sue her for the work I’d done. And her new lawyer would be sure to point out how much cheaper it would be for her to have them fight against paying me the fee than to actually pay it. See the problem?”
“Yeah.”
“My client is a runaway train, and there’s no reason for me to throw myself on the track. Unless you make one.”
Cora heaved a sigh. “Oh, hell.”
Chapter
51
Chief Harper scooped up the phone. “Yes, Dan.”
“Becky Baldwin’s here to see you.”
“That can’t be good.”
It wasn’t.
Becky burst into the office and stuck a finger in his face. “Why are you harassing my client?” she demanded.
Harper frowned. “I’m not doing anything to your client.”
“Exactly,” Becky said.
“You’ve been hanging around Cora too much. It’s starting to rub off.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“What subject? You haven’t broached a subject. You barged in here making threats.”
“‘Threats’ is an actionable word.”
Harper winced. “See? You’re even discussing grammar.”
“That wasn’t wordplay,” Becky said irritably. “I was citing a legal action you don’t want to lay yourself open for.”
Harper smiled. “On that point, Counselor, we are in complete agreement. Would you care to sit down?”
“This isn’t a social call.”
“That’s good, because I have this murder.”
“You have two murders. So far you’ve only made the mistake of charging my client with one.”
“Why are you here?”
“You know exactly why I’m here.”
“Why don’t you tell me anyway, so people don’t get the idea I’m omniscient?”
“Billy the Bug just confessed to the murder of Hank Wells.”
“There was an e-mail to that effect.”
“It exonerates my client.”
“You could argue that.”
“I don’t have to argue that. It’s not just reasonable doubt. With that confession, no prosecutor in his right mind is going to try anyone else for the crime.”
“It would seem hard to get a conviction,” Harper said.
“Then why haven’t you dismissed the charges?”
“I can’t dismiss charges. That’s the job of the county prosecutor.”
“Why hasn’t he dismissed the charges?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“He’s not available. I’m asking you.”
“Why are you asking me?”
“You’re available.”
Harper smiled. “Becky, what’s the problem? Your client’s not in jail; she’s not on trial; she’s not in imminent danger.”
“I want the bail money back.”
“I can’t rescind bail. I can’t even reduce it. Only Judge Hobbs can do that.”
“He won’t do it. He says he can’t reduce bail on the strength of what Rick Reed says on TV.”
“Hard to argue with that,” Harper said.
“He says it would take a request from the prosecutor.”
“So get a request from the prosecutor.”
“He’s not available.”
Harper smiled. “The wheels of justice grind slowly.”
“I demanded a hearing. Judge Hobbs looked at his calendar, scheduled me for a week from Thursday.”
“So he didn’t deny your request.”
“No, it’s the pocket veto. The bottom line is, I don’t get the money.”
“Becky, we’re a small town of limited resources. It’s standard practice to hang on to any public money as long as possible so it accrues some interest.”
“Wonderful. Your position is, ‘Yes, you’re being robbed; unfortunately, that’s public policy.’”
“That’s not what I said, and you better not quote me on it.”
“I’m not quoting you, Chief, but I don’t appreciate your attitude, either. You can’t have two suspects charged with the same crime.”
“Billy isn’t charged with the crime.”
“He’s dead.”
“Which is probably why. I admit it’s an unfortunate situation. I’m sure it will all be cleaned up eventually.”
“Yeah. In the meantime, how’s my client supposed to live? On the money the insurance company won’t pay out as long as she’s charged with the crime?”
“What do you expect me to do about it?”
“Couldn’t you put in a call to unavailable Henry Firth, remind him how in this small town we all have to work together in the spirit of cooperation?”
Harper smiled. “Well, you finally asked me something I can answer.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“The answer is no.”
Chapter
52
Cora was sublimating her desire for a cigarette by watching Jennifer cavort around the living room with Buddy. It wasn’t working. The antics were amusing, but the high-pitched barks and squeals were setting her teeth on edge. The insistent ringing of the kitchen phone completed the excruciating dissonance.
Cora stomped into the kitchen, nearly jerked the phone off the wall. “Hello!”
It was Becky Baldwin. “Get in here. You’re back on the clock.”
Cora left Jennifer with Sherry and drove into town. She stopped by Cushman’s Bake Shop and bought two lattes and two California buns. She marched into Becky’s office, set the coffee on the desk, and pulled the pastries out of the bag.
“What’s that?” Becky said.
“Comfort food. You sounded stressed.”
“You trying to get me fat?”
“That would comfort me,” Cora said. “I’m putting on weight. I could use the company.”
“No thanks.”
“Then I’ll have to eat ’em both,” Cora said. “You’ll feel guilty for making me.” She took a bite of the California bun. “Oh, God, it’s worth it.”
“I’ll eat part of one,” Becky said. “You happy?”
“You’ve made my day.”
Becky broke off a corner, took a bite. “Oh, that’s good! What is it?”
“California bun. Not to be confused with California roll. That’s fish. A California bun is basically a croissant dipped in sugar, rolled into a bun, and baked to a honey glaze.”
“That ought to be illegal.” Becky broke off another bite.
“So what did you want?”
Becky took a sip of latte. “We have to solve the crime.”
“Really? What brought you around to that opinion?”
“I got less enthusiastic for the Billy-did-it theory when I found out the court system would use it as a reason for not returning the bail money. It turns out I have to find a live suspect they can charge with the crime. Billy’s dead, so they don’t have to charge him.”
“That makes sense.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“If you’re paying me, I’m on yours.”
“I’m paying you.”
“What are you paying me to do?”
Becky took another bite of California bun. “I’ll pay you not to bring me any more of these. I can’t stop eating it.” She washed it down with latte. “Let’s go back to the original premise. Brittany hired me because she was afraid her husband was trying to kill her. We abandoned that premise because he turned out to be the victim.”
“Which is a pretty good reason,” Cora said. “Not to mention the fact the policy was on him.”
“Yeah. Right. But suppose in spite of all that, the premise was true?”
“He’s trying to kill his wife even though he doesn’t gain anything?”
“But he does.”
“Oh, yeah? What does he get?”
“A dead wife.”
“How does that help him?”
“It’s gets him out of the marriage.”
“There are easier ways to dissolve a marriage.”
“That’s funny, coming from you. When I think about what you’ve said about some of your divorces. And then there’s Melvin.”
“What about Melvin?”
“He’s still paying you alimony. Hank’s young. Maybe he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life paying alimony.”
“Okay,” Cora said. “Then why does he want to get rid of his wife?”
Becky shrugged. “Suppose there was another woman?”
Chapter
53
Crowley’s smile was cautiously guarded. “Hi,” he said.
Cora raised her hand and sat down. “Relax. I’m not here to make trouble. I’m in your office, during working hours, neutral territory, neutral time.”
“Really?” I thought your case was closed.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Harper said some guy confessed.”
“You spoke to Chief Harper?”
“I’m a cop.”
“You’re a New York City cop. You called him about a Bakerhaven case?”
“Actually, he called me.”
“That makes even less sense. Why would he call you?”
Crowley became interested in some papers on his desk.
“He thought I’d been acting funny and wanted to know if I was up to anything?” Cora said.
“I think he’s just concerned about you,” Crowley said.
Cora’s eyes widened. “He called to ask about my personal life?”
“He wanted to know if we were having problems.”
“You said, no, aside from the fact I’d been replaced by another woman, everything was fine.”
“That’s not the way it is.”
“Oh? How is it?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is. But that’s not why I’m here. Like I said, it’s not personal; it’s business.”
“You can never go wrong quoting The Godfather,” Crowley said.
“I want to know why the purported New York girlfriend of a Bakerhaven resident who got blown up in a car has a crossword puzzle yielding the address of the guy who blew up.”
“Oh, is that all,” Crowley said.
“You met this woman face-to-face. What was your impression? Did you think she was telling the truth?”
“I did.”
“Okay,” Cora said. “So if she had nothing to do with anything, why is she brought into the equation? What is her function? Why is she there?”
“I have no idea.”
“Neither have I. And that’s significant.”
Crowley groaned. “That sounds entirely too much like Sherlock Holmes.”
“That doesn’t make it wrong. The woman’s a dead end. So maybe that’s her function. To lead us to a dead end. She’s a wrong turn to keep us from taking a right turn.”
“Such as?”
“Maybe he had a girlfriend, but it wasn’t her. Wouldn’t that fill the bill?”
“No, it wouldn’t. I’ve seen the movie Double Indemnity; I know how it works. If he had an insurance policy on his wife and he and his girlfriend conspired to kill her, it would work just fine. It would be like the movie with the genders reversed. What we have is exactly like the movie. The wife and the agent plot to kill the heavily insured husband.”
“That didn’t happen here.”
“Why not?”
“Because the wife is Becky’s client. I’m not trying to convict Becky’s client.”
“That’s the problem. I’m a cop. I have no personal agenda. I’m out to get the bad guy, whoever it may be.”
“Fine. You want to hunt for Brittany Wells’ insurance agent lover be my guest. Personally, I think it’s a waste of time. On the other hand, if you would like to do something more constructive along the lines of some of the points I was raising, I can even suggest a place to start.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Interview the coworkers.”
“Why?”
“Because no one did.”
Chapter
54
Cora stuck her head into the conference room. “That’s the last one.”
Sergeant Crowley looked up from the long table. “Anybody recognize you?”
Cora had taken her glasses off and tucked her hair into a hat. “If so, they didn’t let on. You get anything useful?”
“Not in the least.”
“You took notes?”
“I took notes. You can read ’em. You can frame ’em. You can laminate ’em.”
“Let’s talk to the next to the last guy again.”
“Which guy was that?”
“Don’t you keep ’em in order?”
“In order to what?”
Cora rolled her eyes.
“What did he look like?” Crowley said.
“The thirtysomething guy with the thin face and the bad haircut.”
“There’s only one?”
“Crowley.”
“Yeah, I know who you mean.”
“Have him in again.”
“Why?”
“On his way out he looked relieved. And this time, let me sit in.”
“On what pretext?”
“I don’t need a pretext. These guys think I’m a plainclothes cop.”
“Okay.”
“You want me to go get him?”
Crowley picked up the phone. “I’ll call the switchboard.”
“Gonna ask for the guy with the bad haircut?”
Crowley referred to his notes. “I think his name’s Rodney Klein.”
“What if it isn’t?”
“Then I’ll ask for someone else.”
Rodney Klein was the guy with the bad haircut, but he didn’t want to sit down. “Why am I back?” he said defensively.
“In case there was anything you forgot to mention.”
“Well, there wasn’t.”
“Or anything you withheld.”
Rodney’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t withhold anything.”
“‘Withhold’ is a scary word. Let’s just say something you were glad you didn’t have to talk about.”
“I—”
“Yes?”
Rodney’s eyes flicked to Cora Felton. He looked back at Sergeant Crowley. “Could I talk to you alone?”
Cora didn’t want to leave, but it was the wrong time to make a fuss. She gathered up her things, went back in the hall.
Rodney was out five minutes later. He avoided her eyes as he went by.
Cora went back in the conference room where Crowley was gathering up his papers. “Well, did he tell you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Gonna tell me?”
“Doesn’t help.”
“Oh?”
“He and Hank Wells had lunch in a topless bar.”
“You’re kidding. He withheld that vital piece of information?” Cora said sarcastically.
“He didn’t think it was important, but it bothered him that he left it out.”
“Are you sure that’s it?” Cora said. “I got quite a different vibe.”
“What?
“He was withholding something, and it wasn’t embarrassment.”
“I didn’t get that.”
“Did you ask him if Hank had a girlfriend?”
“Yes. I did.”
“Did the question bother him?”
“Not at all.”
“I can’t help thinking there’s something there.”
/> “Too bad he threw you out of the room.”
“You could have called me back in after the revelation.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I’m the one who asked you to question him.”
“I did. On your advice. I questioned all of them on your advice.”
“I didn’t know your investigative methods would be so sloppy.”
Crowley took a breath. “Is this about Stephanie?”
“No.”
“It seems like it is. I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish. You’re just using this as an excuse to take shots at me.”
“No, I’m not. I’m trying to solve a murder. I’ve got limited resources and slim leads. I can’t throw any of them away.”
“You think this guy can solve the crime? He can’t even get a decent haircut. You wanna bring him back in here? I question him a third time, he’s gonna clam up tighter than a drum. He’s leaning in that direction already, wanting to know what the hell difference it made where he and Hank had lunch. He’s just one step away from calling a lawyer and charging police harassment.”
“That would be a good indication of guilty knowledge.”
“It would be a good indication of why the hell are you picking on me.”
“Then bring ’em all back. So the guy won’t think it’s personal.”
“Cora, I have a job. And this isn’t it. I’m trying to do you a favor. But I can’t guarantee results. Particularly when it’s so doubtful there are any to be had. You wanna stick around here and find some excuse to talk to the guy, be my guest. But he’s not gonna be receptive. He’s seen you with me. It’s a case of guilt by association. You’re not gonna get to first base.”
“I suppose,” Cora said. But she didn’t look satisfied.
Crowley walked her out. He dawdled on the corner to see if she turned back. From experience he knew it wasn’t easy dealing with Cora. There was no telling what she might do. But she stepped out in the street and hailed a cab.
Crowley heaved a sigh of relief and headed for his car.
Chapter
55
In Cora’s opinion the burning incense was a questionable touch, but otherwise the tapestry shop on Bleecker Street had made a smooth transition into the twenty-first century. Wall hangings shared space with computer terminals on which the shop’s Web site featured draperies of all kinds, from theater curtains to company banners to reproductions of works of art. Batik and madras still gave the shop a retro look, in keeping with the West Village address.