Mitchell Smith (55 page)

“I’ll take your word for it.” Walsh went to the double doors, then turned. “-Sure you don’t want a cup of coffee? I just got some cinnamon rolls for Tessie. You could have one of those and a cup of coffee. . . .”

“No, thank you, Mr. Walsh,” Ellie said, wishing he would stop offering her things.

“O.K.” He opened the doors, and walked into the dining room and out of Ellie’s sight, and in a moment she heard him saying something to somebody. His wife. -An odd pair. An old Irishman and a Puerto Rican girl.

Maybe she’d been working as a maid for some people in the building, and Walsh had stopped and talked to her in the hall a few times, as she came and went from work.

Fell in love with a skinny little Hispanic girl with a big nose, young enough to be his daughter. Very tender with her …

Walsh came out with a small business card in his hand.

As he gave it to Ellie, his intercom buzzer sounded. “Go ahead,” he said, and Ellie thought for a moment he was talking to her. “-buzz your goddamn head off.”

“Can I use this phone?” Ellie said. There was a phone on a little table with a yellow lamp, against the living room wall.

“It’s all yours,” Walsh said.

“I guess I need some privacy.”

“Oh-you bet,” Walsh said, and walked back into his dining room and shut the double doors.

There was a number on the back of the card, with Home printed next to it. Ellie went to the phone and picked up the receiver, punched that number, and heard at least four rings before somebody answered. It was a woman, and when Ellie asked for Mr. Simons, the woman made an impatient clicking sound with her tongue, said, “All right,” and put the phone down.

It was picked up quickly. “Yes?” A man’s voice.

“Mr. Simons?”

“That’s right. -Who is this?” A deep voice. Ellie had imagined a small thin man, but Simons sounded big. He sounded impatient, too, and Ellie supposed tenants sometimes got his home number, and called to complain about this or that.

“My name is Klein, Mr. Simons. I’m a police officer, a detective with the Commissioner’s Squad, downtown.”

“I see Different tone of voice. “What can I do for you, Officer? -If it’s a matter of some information or other, it might be best to call me at my office later in the morning.”

“I don’t want to wait for that,” Ellie said. “I need some business information on one of your tenants-a His. Susan Margolies.”

“I know Dr. Margolies,” Simons said. He had a very deep voice.

‘-Excuse me, but may I ask how you got my home number, Officer?”

“From the Bureau of Records, Mr. Simons.”

“I see.”

“I need some information regarding Susan Margolies’ co-op payments to your firm, Mr. Simons. -I was informed she does intend to purchase her apartment?”

“I believe that’s true, Officer-but I certainly wouldn’t have any records of that here. -It would really be better for you to contact my office later in the morning. I don’t know what interest the Police Department has in that transaction-there might, for example, be some legal DAYDRE”S

complication in revealing those records and so forth. I would simply feel more comfortable dealing with the matter in a more conventional way. OX.?”

Ellie felt suddenly tired, as if she’d already worked a long day. Her feet were starting to hurt. The brown shoes fit fine in the toe, but they’d always been a little too long and tended to slip down off her heels. She’d glued moleskin patches inside the backs, but the heels still slid a little, sometimes, when she walked, and it made her feet tired.

“I understand your concern, Mr. Simons,” she said, “—and if I could wait, I would. Now, what I’d like you to do, is call your accountant or whoever at hornesomebody has to be familiar with the transaction-and get me that information. I want to know the amount that’s been paid for that apartment, and I want to know when it was paid. I’ll call you back in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll tell you what, Miss Klein-why don’t you put your superior on the line, and we’ll make any arrangement that seems reasonable.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Ellie said. “If you don’t stop farting around-if you don’t have that information when I call for it, I’ll ask my superior to have the Commissioner’s office call the Department of Inspections, and have them really go over the various properties of Terrace Associates for any violations they can find, payoffs or not. -And I’ll be sure and let the ‘associates’ know who they have to thank!” She hung up.

Ellie had two cinnamon rolls, and two cups of coffee, and-Walsh having gone upstairs to replace light bulbs on the fourth-floor coffidors-discussed marriage and motherhood with Teresa, who, though shy, had been raised in the barrio, and knew shit from Shinola.

“I bet you wonder what I’m doin’ with this old man “No, I don’t. He loves you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Teresa said. “He’s a nice guy, too. -I had some guys love me, you know, want to live with me?

Next thing I know, they come in an’ beat me up. -You know, Emmett don’t lay a hand on me unless he’s being’ nice. Oh-when he’s ballin’ me, too.”

“Then he’s nice……

“Oh, yeah. -He keeps going’ good, too, for an old guy.”

“Sounds great.”

“Oh, you think I don’t know I’m lucky? You should see some of the stuff I have to do before I met Emmett.

Clean up old ladies you don’t believe some of the stuff I have to do.”

“You meet him in the hall?”

“No. The laundry room. -What does it mean if the baby kicks all the time?”

“He’s either a boy, or a tough girl.”

“Like you-right? Like a cop.”

“We’re not tough,” Ellie said. “—We’re scared all the time.”

Teresa took another cinnamon roll. “Emmett said that was your friend, got killed.”

“That’s right, He was killed last night. If I’d been there, you know, he probably wouldn’t have been killed.”

“Bullshit,” Teresa said, sitting well back from the table for belly room as she ate. “He was going’ home, wasn’t he? You wasn’t supposed to be there. -An’ you’re a lady, anyway. They would just kill you, too.”

Ellie called Simons back twenty minutes late.

“Very well, Officer. I have the information you requested. -I also intend, by the way, to report your rudeness. . . . We have received an overdue down payment of fifty-three thousand dollars from Dr.

Margolies, on an amount for purchase totaling one hundred and ninety-three thousand dollars. The down payment of fifty-three thousand was paid by a check on Citibank, drawn Monday before last. Received by our office on Wednesday of that week.”

“Received Monday?”

“Received Wednesday-Arawn Monday, September the twenty-first.”

“All right. All right. I want to thank you, Mr. Simons.

That’s good information.”

“You may be sure I still intend to report your rudeness, Officer Klein.”

Click.

Ellie thanked Teresa, asked her to thank her husband then left the apartment, climbed the stairs to the lobby, and went out into the street. She walked east to Broadway, and found three phone booths near a newsstand. She could see headlines reading Hero Cop Slain from the near booth, got out of it, and went to the one on the end.

She deposited her quarter, asked Information for the number for Todd Birnbaum’s office, got her quarter back, deposited it again, and made the call.

“Birnbaum and Sefton.”

It sounded like the tall girl with the bad complexions that girl and Teresa. Bad complexions. “Is Todd Birnbaum in?”

“No. Mr. Birnbaum is not in the office yet. -May I take a message?”

“This is Detective Klein. My partner and I spoke with Mr. Birnbaum-“

“Yes, I remember. Mr. Birnbaum won’t be in the office until about eleven o’clock.”

“I need to talk to him, now.”

“Well, he’s at New York Hospital. He’s visiting his wife.”

“Thank you.” Ellie dug for another quarter, called Information, got the hospital switchboard number, then called that. The switchboard gave her the nurses’ station on the seventh floor, and a nurse who answered agreed to go and bring Mr. Birnbaum to the station phone. -The phone in Mrs. Birnbaum’s room had been disconnected.- The ringing disturbed her.

“Birnbaum.”

“This is Detective Klein, my partner and I spoke-“

“I remember you,” Birnbaum said. ‘-I believe Officer Nardone was the policeman killed last night. -Is that SOT, “Yes, it is.”

“Well, he seemed a decent man. I’m very sorry.”

“How is Audrey?”

“She’s not having too much pain,” Birnbaum said.

“-I think she enjoyed your visit, yesterday. My wife doesn’t have many visitors.”

“I need to ask you some questions, Counselor.”

“You can ask. . . .”

“First, where were you on Sunday morning, a week and a half ago?”

“Ah-nitty-gritty time. I was here. -I’m here every day from six till about ten-thirty. I like to be here when she wakes up.”

“How are you paying for your wife’s treatment, Counselor?”

“A good question,” Birnbaum said. “-And a good lawyer would advise me not to answer it. . . . We have major medical coverage to about eighty-five percent of expenses. I have, so far, had to borrow an additional forty-three thousand dollars.”

“Would you have any objection to telling me who the lenders were?”

“No, no objection. -One was a friend of mine, Aaron Silber; the other was a Westchester bank, National Republic. -I’ve also been advised that an additional uncovered charge of approximately sixteen thousand dollars will probably be incurred within thirty to sixty days. I believe I can borrow that amount as well.”

“And if you can’t… ?”

“Then, His. Klein, I will do whatever I have to do to get that money.

If I had to, I would commit murder for it. -Does that answer your question?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly. You have your work to do. -Anything else… ?”

“Were you ever in therapy, Mr. Birnbaum?”

“Yes. -And still am, occasionally. What about it?”

“You went to Susan Margolies, didn’t you?” Ellie felt out of breath, as if she’d run a long way to ask the question.

“Yes, I did. And do.”

“She sent you to Sally a long time ago?”

“Yes, she did. -That’s how Sally and I met. I had some …

dysfunction. Did Susan tell you about this?”

“No, Mr. Birnbaum, she didn’t. I thought it might be possible, that’s all.”

“Is there anything else you need to know? This may sound absurd to you-probably does-but I find myself worrying that my wife might die when I’m not with her.

Gone to the bathroom or something stupid. Not that there’s any emergency now-but when I am here, I like to stay with her.”

“I understand. I feel the same … I felt the same. Just one more question. -Sally’s money, hidden in that coffeemaker? Did you ever mention that to Dr. Margolies?”

“I see. Of course. I should have thought of that one, myself. -So the money isn’t there. I suppose I assumed you people had found it…. Oh, hell … let me think.

I believe I may have joked with Susan about it. I guess I thought Susan knew all about that treasure trove. —Certainly didn’t seem surprised, that I recall…. And I hope you don’t think that Susan would murder a friend for money. You happen to be talking about a wonderful therapist, and one of the few real grownups around.”

“I hope you’re right, Counselor.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Please tell Audrey I asked about her. -And tell her I have a present for her. If she feels well enough, I’ll bring it to her tomorrow.”

“All right,” Birnbaum said, “I will. -And again, my regrets about that officer. It was a rotten thing to happen.” He hung up, and Ellie stood for a few moments, still holding the phone, leaning against the inside wall of the booth.

“Tommy,” she said into the mouthpiece, wishing there was a number by which the dead might be reached.

“-Tommy, we’re going to break it.” She listened for an answer over the hum, just in case.

She spoke to the newsstand man-careful not to look down at the newspapers on the counter-then walked downtown five blocks, and crossed the street to the branch of Citibank. She went through the revolving door, and along the counter past the tellers to a narrow office space with four desks arranged in it among white waist-high partitions. She stood at the rail there for a minute or two, then caught the eye of a young black woman at one of the desks. This woman worked on some papers for a while after that, moving them from one part of her desk to the other. Then, she got up and came over. She wore a dark blue dress, and a string of light blue beads. She had a modest Afro, and wore button earrings that matched her beads. A set.

“Yes-you want something’T, “I’m a police officer,” Ellie said, and took her shield and.“3 from her purse. “I need some information concerning an account here-an account I believe to be here, anyway.”

The woman looked at Ellie’s ID. “Well,” she said, -we don’t give out information on people’s accounts.”

“You’re in charge of this branch?”

“Mr. Weygand is downtown. He’s the manager of this branch. While he’s gone-I’m in charge. And we do not release account information to anybody without authorization.

“What’s your name?” Ellie said.

“My name’s His. Luanna Harris.”

“His. Harris,” Ellie said, “-here’s the situation. I can get some information from you on this particular account, which involves a possible deposit of felonious gains resultant from a homicide–or I can start pulling your tellers out of their cages for questioning right now, pull you out from behind that rail for questioning right now … and maybe take your ass downtown as a material witness with possible prior knowledge of this same felonious deposit I’m looking for. -In other words, His. Harris, I advise you not to play hardball with me.”

I’ll in just tryin’ to tell you bank policy-“

“Don’t tell me shit, Luanna. Just get your buns over to an account ledger and look up Susan Margolies. M-a-r-g0-1-i-e-s. I don’t have to see it, and I don’t need a lot of details. Just a couple. -I don’t think that’s a problem, do you? It isn’t as if I was one of your poor sad-ass customers.”