Fairstein, Linda - Final Jeopardy (22 page)

“Why does the chief have to know anything about this? Suddenly my aborted love life is going to be fodder for the department?

No way, Mike, no way. No way.“

Chapman squatted down directly in front of me, put his hand on my knee, and tried to force me to look him directly in the eye.

“You don’t get it yet, kid, do you? If that sleeve really does belong to Jed Segal and that’s the very first thing we have to find out for sure then this is not just about someone cheating on you with one of your friends.

If you’re right about Jed, then we’ve got to look at him as a suspect in Isabella’s murder.“

My head started shaking back and forth slowly in disagreement with what Mike had just announced. I hadn’t thought of that at all, as busy as my mind was with its own unhappiness, but I could not accept or absorb that concept when it emerged from his lips.

“That’s ridiculous, Mike. That’s that’s not possible,” I stammered as I tried to reason why someone who was capable of such deceit and who lied so facilely and convincingly could not have carried out the cold-blooded murder of his consort.

“Better face it. Jed Segal goes to the head of the class.

He has some very serious explaining to do before he gets cleared from the list of possibles. If he was the guy sharing the clams with Isabella an hour before she was killed, he’s got the access and the opportunity and-‘ “But no motive, Mike, he’s got absolutely no motive to kill her. She’s the goose with the golden egg, for Chrissakes.

The guy is making love to a gorgeous, world-famous movie idol it ain’t getting better than that for Jed Segal what the hell would he kill her for?“ I almost gagged on the expression ‘making love.” Clearly, those had been Jed’s condoms in my wastebasket. No wonder he was so concerned when I said we could do DNA testing to find out who Iz’s lover had been.

“No motive? Ha, that’s more bullshit. Suppose she threatened to tell you about their tryst? Suppose she told him he wasn’t as good in the sack as Johnny Garelli? Suppose she pissed him off like she did almost everyone else I’ve spoken with who was in her presence for more than ten minutes?”

I rocked back and forth in my chair, my arms crossed ic over my stomach as though they could quell the sickening as waves that rippled underneath their griper “I can’t handle this Mike, I really can’t handle this ie ”Sure you can, Coop. We’ll get you through it. What do you think you’re doing now?“ Mike asked as I brushed past him and headed for the door to my coat closet. I reached in for my trenchcoat and threw it on over my outfit, grabbing my keys, some cash, and moving toward the apartment door.

“Take those photos out of here with you when you finish your coffee and leave. I’m doing this one face to face. I know exactly where to find this lying piece of shit and I’m going to be the first one to accuse him of murder. It’ll be a pleasure.”

“Your old man is right about one thing, blondie this job really has trashed your vocabulary. Where’re we going? It’s after midnight.”

“Uh, uh, Mikey, I’m alone. I’ll grab a taxi. Point of honor.

I can’t wait till tomorrow to look this guy in the eye and tell him all the things I want to say.“ I Mike had a grip on my arm, holding me inside the I apartment.

“I’ll handcuff you to this closet door and leave I you here unless you tell me where Segal is and let me go with you. At worst, he’s a killer and he’s dangerous and at best, you’re a killer and I gotta protect him. C’mon, be reasonable. You need me there as a witness, if nothing else.

Don’t do this, Alex, please don’t make a scene.“

My despair of ten minutes ago had turned to an almost manic punchiness at the prospect of confronting my infidel.

“Fine, Chapman, you want to be there with me, that’s fine.

Wish I could get hold of Court TV this could be one of my better cross-examinations.“

We were out the door together and I turned to lock it as Mike warned me to remember my job and behave myself.

“Balls, Mikey! You better have balls tonight. I don’t care if I lose my job and I’m working at the Chilmark dump next week.”

“Where to?” he asked again as we began our descent in the elevator.

“The University Club. Tap Room. Lights and sirens, please, Detective Chapman.”

Mike pulled out of the driveway and headed west till we reached Fifth Avenue, where he turned left at my direction to go south to the “U‘
Club.

“You belong there? I mean, are you a member of this place?”

“No.”

“% ”No broads?“

“Yeah. They admitted women a few years ago, but it’s not for me. Jed’s a member, though. Likes to breakfast there or have lunch in the Grill, drink at the end of the day, use the pool and squash courts. The old guys the sixty- and seventy-year-olds most of them voted to let women in when the first lawsuits started. The thirty- and forty-year-olds you know, the ones who are a bit threatened by skirts they tried to keep women out.

Male bonding, Mike. Doesn’t it move you?“

“What street?”

“Corner of Fifty-fourth and Fifth.”

As we crossed the intersection of Fifty-seventh Street a caravan of Daily News trucks lumbering eastbound with their first load of morning papers for the all-night newsstands. jas I groaned as I leaned my head onto the seat back.

“Oh no. Don’t even let me think that this story’s going to be another tabloid headline.” st “You can go to the bank on that one, Coop. You better hope somebody goes through the front door of Carder’s tonight with an atomic blowtorch and walks out with the Hope diamond.

Otherwise, if it’s a slow news day, you and Jed could be right on the front pages. I can see them in the newsroom now Post goes with single-word header in all caps: ”BETRAYED“ News uses ”SEX PROSECUTOR IN DEADLY LOVE TRIANGLE.“

“I’m not a ”sex prosecutor,“ dammit. That’s the same thing they tried to write when Iz was killed. I prosecute crimes of sexual assault, not sex.”

“That’s a healthy approach, blondie the semantics. Don’t worry about what the headlines say, it’s how they say it.”

“I don’t know who I feel worse about Battaglia, my mother, or me.”

“Good thing you got an alibi for the middle of the afternoon when Lascar was killed. You can bet that Pat McKinney will be in there telling Battaglia that you had the best motive to knock off your fair-weather friend for playing with your man behind your back.”

I was silent as I thought of the endless rounds of gossip this case would now generate in the office, where I had always worked to maintain a healthy distance between my personal and professional lives. Chills ran through me as I tried to make a mental list of my friends and my enemies, but I would have a chance to see them all by the end of the next day before I could ever attempt to parse up the groupings in my head.

Mike had gone around the block and come up directly in front of the club building at One West Fifty-fourth Street, defying the “NO PARKING‘ sign by sticking his laminated NYPD vehicle identification plate inside the windshield on the dashboard, announcing to the handful of nocturnal passersby that we had come to this bastion of gentility on official business. Sort of.

It was well after midnight as I led Chapman up the front steps and through the glass entrance doors of the University Club. It is one of the handsomest buildings in the City of New York a McKim, Mead, and White structure, built to house the private retreat established for educated gentlemen in 1865.

Up another few steps to the lobby where, on the left, a uniformed employee stood beside a large wooden board to record the comings and goings of members as they entered and left the building. Most of the time the initiated simply nodded their greetings upon arrival and he recognized them, sliding their small wooden nameplates into the appropriate place to mark their presence at the club.

I trooped past the startled guard, crossed through the formal lobby with its double-height ceiling, massive columns, and enormous marble fireplace, and went beyond the slow speed elevators to the back staircase which led directly up to the Tap Room, the bar on the second floor.

“Madam,” the unhappy lookout called out several times after me as I continued to ignore him, refusing to look back they and hoping that Chapman was still at my heels. l on “Who are you, madam? I’m sorry but you’re not appropriately dressed for the Tap Room.” as My trenchcoat was wide open, so he could see that the 1“h P oversized man’s shirt, leggings, and Capezio ballet flats P S t marked a blatant departure from the dress code preferred her for the public rooms, which gave me added pleasure on my late-night odyssey.

“Madam, I must insist, madam. Whom are you meeting?”

I had practically reached the landing at the top of the stairs when I looked down at the source of the voice calling up to me. All I could see was the top of his uniform cap.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Were you talking to me? I’m with an escort service Mr. Segal called for me half an hour ago said just to come ahead as I was, what he needed wouldn’t take us very long.”

I continued down the short hallway and waited at the entrance to the bar so that Mike could catch up with me before I pushed open the padded leather door and walked in.

There were about five clusters of drinkers scattered I about the large room, relaxing around cocktail tables with I armchairs and easy chairs, nursing their nightcaps before I heading off to rest up for tomorrow’s deal-making.

“Alexandra!” Jed spotted me almost immediately and called out to me as I stood in the doorway, scanning the room to find him.

“Come with me, Mike,” I whispered as I moved forward.

Jed rose to his feet, followed in rapid succession by his two boot lickers Larry and Stan slightly younger versions of Jed, hoping to grow up just like him, I was sure. Anderson Warmack, the centerpiece of the group, never budged from his chair, but just leaned in and rested his elbows on the table as he winked at me in welcome.

“Jed, I think you remember Mike Chapman. He’s with Homicide. Mike and I need to ask you some questions, Jed. We’d like to-‘ ”Alex, darling, why don’t you and Chapman join us for a round. We’re celebrating Mr.
Warmack’s big night and anything you want to tell me can certainly wait till we get home.“ Could he really be as cool and unconcerned as he appeared to be, seeing me burst in here looking like a shrew with a detective at my side? Was it possible that I had made a ridiculous mistake?

Larry and Stan or was it Curly and Moe were scrambling to pull up two extra chairs from nearby tables now.

“Don’t bother. We’re not sitting. Jed, this is not a joke. We need to go somewhere private and talk. Right now. We can go upstairs to the library on the fourth floor I’m sure it’s empty at this hour.”

Anderson Warmack chose that moment to begin to blow his hot air into our business.

“Alexandria, my dear…”

“It’s not Alexandria. It’s Alexandra.”

Now I had Jed’s attention. I could mess with him but I better not cross old moneybags.

“Alexandra young lady I’ve been keeping your sweetheart from you too long, is that the problem? Called the police in on me, have you? You look mighty perturbed.”

Well, you’re a master of understatement, you pompous old fart. I’m not perturbed I am fucking pissed off and heartbroken and confused and hurt and angry, but I am much too well brought up to say exactly that to a polite pey fool like you who likes to have his dimpled old ass kissed I n as frequently as possible. ftic “Quite the contrary, Mr.
Warmack. I only need to see Jed ‘as for fifteen or twenty minutes, and if you’ll be good enough ’er to wait for him, I won’t ever need to take him out of your presence again, for as long as I live. ”st Jed was mad now. He was furious that I was bringing his idol and his underlings into some spat they thought I was starting, and he was trying to placate Warmack before he dealt with me.

‘I’ll just finish up with you, Anderson. Alex and her friend can have a wait-’ Mike was ready to jump in, at last.

“Hey, Mr. Spiegal, we’re ready to-‘ ”It’s Segal.“

“Nobody wants to embarrass you. I do have a few questions that need to have answers tonight. Now be a gent and do what the lady would like you to do, understand?”

Larry thought it was time for a little levity.

“Go on, Jed, we’ll still be here. Don’t make the tough guy take out his gun and shoot you in the foot to make you dance. What is it, Officer Krupke, a parking ticket? Did he expose himself in public?
Better go with the nice policeman, Jed, I can’t I afford to call a lawyer for you.” I Stan thought that was a real knee-slapper. Warmack, on ? the other hand, saw Jed’s tightened jaw set in place and his two fingers locked onto his expensive Cohiba cigar, creasing its very costly skin.

Warmack glared back at Jed. I knew he was too white bread to enjoy a public display of anybody’s dirty laundry.

“Why don’t you go along and clear up this business, whatever it is. I’m in no rush to go anywhere, as long as they see fit to keep some brandy in my glass.”

Jed excused himself and led us out of the room, around the corner to the elevator, and up to the library, without any one of us uttering a word.

The library was a strikingly elegant room. Dark-paneled and comfortably furnished, it featured second-story galleries reached by spiral wooden ladders and housed an eclectic selection of books, both commercial and rare. I used to love the evenings I had to wait for Jed to finish a negotiation downstairs, while I sat and browsed through some first-edition poetry volume from the thirties, interrupted only by staring at a section of the vaulted ceiling, painted with maps and mythological figures that showed me a new aspect every time I settled in a different chair.

This time, there was no looking at the ceiling. I walked to one of the long, narrow reading tables and sat down, pointing to the men to join me.

“Do I have to interrogate you, Jed, or do you think you can be honest with me for a change?”

“I must say I’m rather surprised at this Gestapo-like approach, Alex. I assume you and I can talk out our problems without any interlopers present.” Jed refused even to glance at Mike Chapman, who was sitting on my side of the table, across from him. His dark eyebrows were drawn together and wrinkled over his nose, as he seemed to try to puzzle why my mood had snapped so radically in the brief time since I had kissed him good night at the Plaza.