Courthouse (48 page)

Marc looked at her reprovingly. “Did he find Lord's pistol, at least?” Marc asked Franco.

“Yeah, he got that,” Franco replied. “It was in the safe. But that's not the problem.”

“He doen't know how to test-fire it without making too much noise?”

“No, he did that too,” replied Franco. “He fired it into a pillow with a phone book behind the pillow to stop the bullet. We worked that out before he went up.”

“You weren't involved in that?” Marc asked Maria.

“No. I done it all on my own, boss, honest,” said Franco.

“Then what's Johnny's problem?” Marc asked.

“He found the tape recorder Lord uses to tape phone conversations in his office,” said Franco.

“He did?” Maria asked excitedly.

“That's not too surprising,” replied Marc. “We already figured that out.”

“Yeah, but he found two tape machines,” Franco said emphatically, “recording two differing numbers. And a lot of tapes.”

“Franco, please spare us your piece-by-piece narrative, and tell me what the hell is on your burglar friend's mind,” said Marc.

“The other tape machine is recording Toni Wainwright's phone,” Franco revealed. “He saw the tapes.”

“You were right,” said Maria, turning to Marc.

Marc was silent.

“And there are a lot of them, with dates and all,” Franco added hastily. “They go back quite a while.” He saw his reprieve in Marc's eyes.

“You were right about Lord knowing too much about Toni Wainwright's phone conversations,” said Maria.

“He's probably worried she's fooling around with some other guys,” said Franco.

“And with a woman like that, he's got something to worry about,” said Maria.

“I doubt he's worried about her amorous affairs at all,” said Marc. “I'm sure he's more interested in knowing that she's not selling him down the river when it comes to the stocks she controls. Where is Johnny now?”

“He's still there. He knew we were on a case and figured maybe it was important, so he took a shot and called,” Franco replied.

“Is he still on the phone?”

Franco nodded.

Marc walked over and picked up the phone. “Johnny.”

“Yeah. Hiya, Marc.”

“How far back do the tapes go?” Marc asked.

“You mean in dates?”

“Yes.”

“A month or so in one cabinet,” said Johnny. “But I found another compartment in a safe place, you know what I mean. There were tapes there too. Those go back about four or five months.”

“Can you take a tape out of there for me?” asked Marc.

“If you want, Marc. What ones do you want?”

“I want the tapes from both machines for August 13.”

“I don't know if they're there,” replied Johnny. “But if they are, and you want them, I'll get them.”

“Get the tapes for the twelfth and the fourteenth too,” Marc added.

“Tell me everything you want now,” said Johnny. “I want to make a move right away.”

“Johnny. Are there spare tape reels there, with tape that hasn't been used yet?” asked Marc.

“Yeah, sure,” Johnny answered. “He's got like a closet with a pile of extra tapes.”

“Good. Take some of those extra tapes and put the same dates on them as are on the reels that you take. Put the blank reels with the dates back in the safe.”

“You want me to put the blank tapes with the dates in the safe so this guy don't know the real ones are gone. Is that it?” Johnny asked, to be sure he understood.

“Yes.”

“Okay, Marc,” said Johnny. “Let me get going.”

Marc put down the phone but remained standing, looking at it as if it contained the answer to a perplexing puzzle. Maria walked over and locked her arms around his chest.

Four hours later, Marc, Maria, and Franco were huddled around the tape player in their apartment. “Well, there's nothing we can use on Lord's office phone tapes,” said Marc. “Let's hear the others.”

“You want me to play the tapes of Toni Wainwright's phone
now
?” asked Franco. He looked at his watch. It was 4
A.M.

“Not now, Marc,” said Maria. “You have to start the trial in a couple of hours. You'll be exhausted.”

“I'm okay,” said Marc. “I'm invigorated by new evidence. Don't you two want to hear if your theory holds together?”

“As long as you're okay, yes,” said Maria.

“Play the tapes of the twelfth of August, the day of the party,” said Marc. “Then play the early morning Of the thirteenth, when Wainwright was killed.”

“That's all on one tape,” said Franco as he put the reel on the tape recorder and started the machine.

It was a voice-activated recording of every telephone call made to or from Toni Wainwright's apartment on the twelfth of August. If no one was speaking, the recorder stopped automatically. When there was another conversation, the recorder began again. The tape contained phone calls made by Toni Wainwright and some made to her by friends, about lunch, about people they knew, about who was divorcing whom, about the servant problem, about stocks and bonds, about how there were millions being lost as the stocks tumbled. There were calls to a beauty parlor; there were calls from the servants to their friends; there were calls to various suppliers and grocers concerning the dinner party that Toni Wainwright was having that evening. There were panic calls when too few lobsters were sent. The fish man said he would deliver them personally in his car.

“Sounds like we're getting into the late afternoon now,” said Maria.

Marc nodded, listening carefully to each conversation. “Now this must be a call Zack Lord made on Toni Wainwright's phone,” said Marc as he listened to Lord's voice. “He must have arrived at the apartment by then.”

On the tape, Zack called his pilot to tell him to have the plane ready to leave for Chicago about twelve-thirty that night.

“Maybe he was telling the truth all the. time,” said Franco somewhat unhappily. “Maybe he did fall asleep by mistake.”

“Don't lose faith so quickly,” Maria cautioned.

There were other recorded conversations between people who must have been guests at the party and other people they called from the Wainwright apartment. Then there were calls which the servants answered, advising the callers to phone back since Madam was having dinner and could not be disturbed.

“Now we're right in the midst of the dinner party,” said Marc, turning the volume up louder.

There were a couple of additional calls to Toni Wainwright from friends..

“Hello, Toni,” said a heavy male voice from the tape. The man's words were thick and slurred. “This is Bob, your husband.”

They all perked up.

“He sounds quite drunk,” said Maria.

Marc put the volume up a bit louder.

“What do
you
want?” Toni asked angrily on the tape. Her words too were thick and slurred.

“They were both really stinking drunk when they had this conversation,” said Franco. Marc raised a silencing finger to his lips.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” said Wainwright's voice.

“About what? About the fact that you fucked up my dinner party, made all the guests feel uncomfortable?”

“Come on, honey,” they heard Wainwright plead again. “Don't be such a bitch.”

“Come on, what? Come on, what?” Toni demanded drunkenly. “You come over here, uninvited, mess up my party, make everyone uncomfortable, and then you call and say, come on, honey. Go fuck yourself.” She hung up.

“Charming,” said Maria.

“As usual,” added Franco.

Marc smiled slightly as the tape continued.

“Hello?” asked a now sleepier, as well as drunker, Toni Wainwright on the tape.

“Hello, Toni,” said her husband's voice, he too more slurred and drunk.

“Why are you waking me up now?” Toni Wainwright asked with impatience. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Now? It's a quarter to one.”

“Now?” Toni Wainwright slashed. “Now, you ask? What do you think I want to know, yesterday's time? You drunken ass! What do you want?”

“I told you a little while ago, I just wanted to explain.”

“Look, it's a quarter to one, ten to one, whatever the hell time it is.” The three listeners could hear movement as Toni Wainwright must have twisted to see the clock.

“There's the time reference,” Marc whispered, listening carefully.

Maria nodded.

“My dinner party was a bomb because of you,” Toni Wainwright's recorded voice continued. “My guests are all gone. The evening was shit. And now will you leave me alone so I can at least enjoy a little peace.”

“What the hell kind of a lousy remark is that to make to me?” Wainwright demanded indignantly.

“What lousy remark?” asked Toni Wainwright.

“You want a little piece. Is Zack Lord there? Is that what you're doing, fucking him? And telling me about it just because you want to make me jealous? Is that it, you lousy bitch?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Toni Wainwright.

“You know what I'm talking about. For Christ's sake, Toni. I still love you. And you tell me about having a little piece. Don't you have any consideration?”

“Could Zack Lord have been there at a quarter to one?” Maria whispered to Marc. “Maybe that's where he fell asleep. Not in his own apartment, but at Toni Wainwright's.”

Marc stopped the tape momentarily; “That might explain a lot of things,” he said. “How Lord got in; how he knew what was going on; everything.” He looked at Franco, then Maria. She nodded the possibility. Marc let the tape play again.

Toni Wainwright laughed viciously on the phone. “Isn't that too bad,” she said to Wainwright. “First you mess up my party, then you wake me up, twice now, and then I'm not supposed to tell you what I'm doing because it'll make you angry and jealous. Poor little fella,” she mimicked. “Well, you bum, that's what I'm doing. I'm fucking Zack Lord, and I'm going to go back and give him an extra fuck just for you. Now leave me alone.” She hung up again.

“What a rotten bitch,” said Franco. “I'd tell her a couple of things if she ever said that to me. I'm sorry,” he said to Maria to excuse his language.

Maria smiled. “But you aren't in love with her, Franco. Wainwright was. Marc,” she said, turning. “If Zack was there, that would explain everything.”

Marc stopped the tape again. “I
don't
think he was.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Franco.

Marc re-wound a portion of the tape. “Listen to this again.” Marc started the tape forward again.

“Look, it's a quarter to one, ten to one, whatever the hell time it is,” Toni Wainwright's voice repeated. “My dinner party was a bomb because of you, my guests are all gone. The evening was shit. And now will you leave me alone so I can at least enjoy a little peace.”

“What the hell kind of lousy remark is that to make to me?” Wainwright demanded again.

“What are you getting at?” Franco whispered quickly to Marc.

Maria listened raptly, watching the rotating reels of the machine.

Marc put a finger to his lips.

“What lousy remark?” asked Toni Wainwright's voice.

“You want a little piece. Is Zack Lord there?” the voice continued. “Is that what you're doing, fucking him? And telling me about it just because you want to make me jealous? Is that it, you lousy bitch?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Toni Wainwright.

Marc stopped the tape again. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

“Yeah, I heard it,” said Franco, unimpressed.

Maria was pensive.

“I don't think Zack was there,” Marc explained. “Toni Wainwright was very slow on the uptake. She was drunk, and didn't get what Wainwright said to her at first. Then when she realized she had a good opportunity to really stick a barb in him because he was jealous, she did it just because she wanted to get back at him for ruining her party.”

“Could be that way, I guess,” said Maria. “Sounds like a woman's logic. But Lord could have been right there with her anyway.”

“She's already told us personally that he wasn't. That he had gone home,” said Marc.

“Maybe she didn't want to admit to us that Zack was sleeping over,” Franco suggested.

“You think that she's too demure to admit an affair with Zack? Think she'd be embarrassed?”

“That creep?” laughed Maria. “I doubt it. She obviously has the modesty of a water buffalo.”

“But then where are we now?” asked Franco. “I mean, what the heck do these tapes do for us, except, if you're right that Zack wasn't there, leave us right back where we were?”

“On the contrary,” said Marc. “If Zack
was
sleeping over, that would explain how he got all the information he got, and how he would have been there in the apartment to kill Wainwright. If your theory is correct. If he wasn't there, the tapes still explain how he got his information. The only difference would be his location at the time he got the information.”

“I don't get you,” said Franco, nodding.

“Let's say Zack was in his own apartment,” Marc continued. “He was going to Chicago on business. Maybe he walked into his office. We know it's right on the same floor with his apartment. He finds the machine that's bugging Toni's phone moving. He waits till the machine stops and listens to the replay. He finds out that Wainwright is calling his wife. They're both drunk as skunks. He decides to wait and listen to any further conversation, see if there are any further developments.”

“Let's listen ourselves,” said Maria anxiously.

Marc turned the tape to forward play again.

“Hello?” asked Toni Wainwright's recording.