Caper (23 page)
“You know you look lovely when you lecture?”
“So, you have to ask yourself. What if you were a competent detective? What if you were responsible for an ugly scene?”
“What if I were?”
“What would have happened then?”
“What are you getting at, Alice?”
“I was just thinking maybe you're going about this all wrong.” She put up her hand. “I know, what a bizarre concept.”
“Anytime you're through having fun.”
“You assume someone was trying to embarrass the congressman. What if they weren't? What if the idea wasn't to embarrass the congressman? What if the idea was to embarrass the girl?”
“What?”
“Popular kid. Dating a singer in a boy band. Wouldn't you like to take her down a peg?”
“Sure, if I was one of her classmates. Then I wouldn't have the resources to do it. I mean, give me a break.” I weighed them in my hands. “Teenage girl. Congressional figure. Who you gonna set up?”
“True. But who set them up?”
“What?”
“You never found your bogus mother.”
“So?”
“How do you know
she
wasn't a teenage girl?”
“Oh, come on. You think I can't tell a girl from a woman?”
“What's the dividing line? Sixteen? Eighteen? Twenty-one? Thirty? How old was the phoney mother?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't remember anything about her except she had a pair of tits. So she probably wasn't eight.”
“That's unfair.”
“Well, narrow it down for me. What are we talking here? Fifteen to forty-five?”
“That's in the ballpark.”
“You're hopeless. So if the girl had bitchy classmates, jealous of her popularity ⦔
“She did.”
“Oh?”
“Her best friend fits the profile. A lesser light, definitely second-string.”
“So?”
“Scrawny little thing, gawky, undeveloped, probably hasn't gone through puberty.”
“You think she's jealous?”
“I would be. She's just another cheerleader and her friend's the star.”
“What's her mother like?”
“Her mother?”
“Yeah.”
“Like her daughter. Mousy little nondescript woman. Why?”
“It's hard to get a clear picture when the reporter's so dull and vague.” Alice frowned. “Something's not right.”
“What?”
“Something you just told me. It doesn't add up.”
“Of course it doesn't add up. The whole point is it doesn't add up.”
“No. Something specific. Something bothered me. Now, what is it?” Alice snapped her fingers. “Got it! Why did you notice her?”
“What?”
“The mother. If the mother's so unattractive and nondescript, why would you notice her at all?”
“She was at the service.”
“Huh?”
“She was at the memorial service. You saw her yourself.”
“I did.”
“Sure. She's married to the jock.”
Alice gave me that pitying glance that always let me know I was being an idiot. She smiled and shook her head.
“Oh, Stanley.”
50
I
WAS NERVOUS WALKING INTO
ADA R
EYNOLDS
'
S OFFICE.
I didn't know what I was going to do. Alice had spun me a scenario of the case that I didn't buy for a minute, even with her in her slinky bedtime attire. Without her sitting there in a T-shirt and panties, Alice's theory lost all credibility whatsoever. Basically, I had nothing.
I tried to bluff it through. It didn't go well. Reynolds regarded me as if I were trying to sell him land on the moon.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I didn't know. I was just talking. It was really little more than a filibuster to postpone the moment of truth when the doorman saw me and I was dead meat. I wanted to prepare ADA Reynolds for that moment. Not to mention his girlfriend, who was also there for the kill.
“All I'm saying is, if I feed the doorman a line of bullshit, just go with it. You know, in case you feel the urge to interrupt me, or arrest me, or jump over the table and strangle me. The type of things you're apt to do.”
He squinted at me suspiciously. “Why are you babbling?”
“I'm afraid you'll do something you'll regret. If you ever wind up prosecuting this case, the guy's gonna be a witness. It would be better not to spill anything in front of him.”
“Oh, thanks for the advice. I think I can handle it.”
I finally ran out of stalls, and they brought the guy in. I braced myself for the inevitable.
The doorman gawked at me in surprise. “What are
you
doing here?”
ADA Reynolds frowned. “You know him?” he asked the doorman.
I beat the doorman to the punch. “He thinks he does.” I smiled at him. “Bad news, friend. I'm here to prove you're lying.”
The doorman scowled. “What?”
“Wait a minute.” ADA Reynolds cut me off, said to the doorman. “You know this man?”
“That's the flower delivery guy.”
“What?!”
I shot ADA Reynolds a look. “He thinks I'm the flower delivery guy. Only one of the many things he got wrong. Wanna hear the others?”
“I wanna hear about
this
. Why do you think he's the flower delivery guy?”
“He delivered flowers. To Mrs. Finnegan. She
liked
him.”
“Did she say that, or did I?”
The doorman looked utterly baffled. Of course, ADA Reynolds didn't look much better. He was about to jump back in, so I forged ahead.
“Which totally disproves your testimony. You claim no one could get in. I got in with no more ID than a bunch of flowers. But you don't know where I went after I got upstairs. I could have gone anywhere. Including the congressman's apartment. So, when you testify with such solemn conviction that no one called on the congressman, the truth is, you don't know.”
The ADA blinked twice. “Is that true?”
He was talking to me, but I turned it on the doorman. “How about it? Is that true?”
The doorman gawked at me. “Who the hell are you?”
“I'm a private eye working for Hanson's lawyer to undercut your story. Unfortunately, he's dead, and can't profit from it, but that doesn't affect the significance of my work.”
“Wait a minute,” ADA Reynolds said. “
When
did you deliver those flowers?”
“I delivered them when
he
was on duty. He was on duty, I showed him the flowers and gave him the apartment number of a woman who lived in the building. I went upstairs, hung out for a half hour, and came back down.”
The doorman was beside himself. “You said she invited you in. For a matinee! You joked you about it.”
“And you believed it. Which proves my point. You're a credulous fool, and the killer would have no problem putting one over on you.” I smiled at ADA Reynolds. “Which is good news for you, if you want to prosecute someone else for killing the congressman. I mean, it's hard to prosecute a dead man.”
ADA Reynolds was livid. All my admonitions about not jumping in went right out the window. Except for one. Spilling stuff in front of the guy. Reynolds jerked his thumb at the doorman, barked, “Take him outside.”
ADA Fairfield arched her eyebrows. “
Excuse
me?”
He flushed, strode to the door, motioned to a court officer. “Watch him.” He pushed the doorman out, slammed the door, and turned back on me. “All right. Talk.”
I shrugged. “You know the back story. I was set up to frame the congressman, it didn't happen, I wasn't satisfied, wouldn't drop it, nosed around.”
“Are you saying you called on the congressman disguised as a flower delivery man?”
“I am specifically
not
saying that. And I would be particularly unhappy if I was misquoted as
having
said that.”
“You admit you got into the building by tricking the doorman.”
“Admit? There's an inflammatory word with legal ramifications. Are you telling me I need counsel?”
“You're going to need a doctor if you don't stop horsing around.”
“Honey,” ADA Fairfield warned.
Talk about loaded words. On that one dangled the fate of the entire relationship up to and including ADA Reynolds's chance of getting lucky anytime in the near future.
He controlled himself with an effort. “No one's accusing anyone of anything. But I'd like to know what the hell is going on.”
“Me too,” I said. “Let's get the doorman back in here and find out.”
It almost worked.
“No so fast,” he said. “There's some questions I want answered.
When
did you scam the doorman? Was if before or after the murder?”
“After.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“So you didn't see the congressman?”
“I saw him at the memorial service.”
“You didn't see him alive?”
“No, I didn't.”
“Then why did you go to his apartment?”
“I'm not saying I went to his apartment. I'm saying I went upstairs in the building, and I
could
have gone to his apartment.”
ADA Fairfield stepped in again. “Mr. Hastings, why did you come here?”
“You called me in. To meet the doorman.”
“That's not what I mean, and you know it. Why did you come to us in the first place?”
“I wasn't satisfied Leslie Hanson was guilty. It occurred to me the doorman could be lying or mistaken.” I jerked my thumb at ADA Reynolds. “I tried to advance that theory to him, and he told me to take a hike. I tested my theory on the doorman, and damned if it wasn't right.”
“So you called Hanson's lawyer?” ADA Reynolds said, accusingly.
“I didn't say that.”
“Yes, you
did
. You said he
hired
you.”
“That's what I told the
doorman
. It was bullshit. I was bluffing. Hanson's lawyer never hired me.”
“So you say.”
ADA Fairfield put up her hand. “Let's not get sidetracked. Never mind if anyone hired you. The fact is, you managed get into the building without proper authorization.”
“Would that be a crime?”
“Delivering flowers? I'd have to look at the penal code.”
ADA Reynolds scowled. “Oh, for Christ's sake. Can we get on with it?”
She smiled. “I'm sorry.”
He flushed. “Not you.”
I seized the opportunity to divert the conversation. “But that's only one of the ways the killer could have gotten in.”
“You have others?” ADA Fairfield said. “Like what?”
“Bring the doorman back in. Let me ask him a couple of questions.”
“Ask him what?” ADA Reynolds demanded.
“If anyone could have gotten by him.”
“Oh, right. Like he's gonna say yes.”
“I'll phrase it differently. Come on. What have you got to lose?”
ADA Reynolds wasn't sold, but his girlfriend tipped the scale. The doorman was marched back in.
“Okay,” I said. “Now, from the time the congressman got home to the time he got killed, to the best of your knowledgeâand I say to the best of you knowledge because we have already demonstrated that your knowledge is none too goodâthe only one who called on him was Leslie Hanson. Is that right?”
“Yes.” The doorman said it through clenched teeth.
“And how do you know what time the congressman got home?”
“I saw him.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“He didn't come through the lobby. He came in the garage.”
“How'd you see him in the garage?”
“On the video monitor.”
“Really? You saw his car drive in?”
“That's right.”
“How do you know the congressman was driving it?”
“I saw his face. Plain as day. If you don't believe me, see for yourself.”
“The camera is angled so you can see the driver driving in?”
“That's right.”
“Then you must
not
be able to see his face when he goes out.”
“So?”
“Is that true? You couldn't see his face driving out?”
“He didn't drive out. He came home and he got killed.”
“Stick with me here. If he
had
driven out, you wouldn't have seen his face, because on the way
out
, the camera is pointing at the
passenger's
side window.”
“Yes.”
“And you can't see who's in the
driver's
side window when the car is going
out
.”
“No, I can't. So what?”
“So you can't see who's in the
passenger's
side window driving
in
.”
The doorman frowned.
ADA Reynolds's eyes widened. “Son of a bitch!”
I smiled at him. “Care to watch some video?”
51
I
T WAS UNPRODUCTIVE.
E
XCEPT TO CONFIRM MY HYPOTHESIS.
As the congressman drove in, you could see his face, but you could not see far enough into the car to know if he had a passenger aboard. Which blew the doorman's testimony out of the water, any bogus flower deliveries notwithstanding.
“So,” I said. “Looks like we gotta watch the rest of it.”
ADA Reynolds frowned. “What for?”
“See if anyone suspicious went out through the garage.”
“How would we know they were suspicious?”
“Well, anyone he didn't recognize.”
“But you can't see the drivers going out of the garage.”
“Well, any
car
he didn't recognize.”
The doorman shook his head. “Unauthorized cars can't get in.”
“Right,” I said. “Just like unauthorized people.”
