Suspicion of Malice (38 page)

"At what point did you strike Roger?"

"The day he fired me, he took me up to Ted's
office, but Ted wasn't there. Like he wanted to show
him, you know? So I said I didn't take the sander,
and he'd have to prove it. Then Roger called me a faggot, and I hit him. Ted heard the commotion and
came in and pulled us apart." Bobby kept his eyes on Anthony. "I lost my temper, I guess."

Anthony lifted his hand from his thigh. The cor
ners of his mouth turned down, the shoulders rose.
No words, but the meaning was clear: Of course you
hit him. He insulted your manhood. They went on
to discuss Bobby's encounter with Roger at Jack's
place. The shove in the shoulder, the heated words.
Excluded from the club, Gail doodled boats and
waves on her legal pad, thinking about what Bobby had said.

She wrote down Stamos in block letters and under
lined it twice. She had seen that name in Anthony's
notes. He had met Ted Stamos on the dock behind
the Cresswells' condo—a rough, uncommunicative type. Stamos had told the police that he'd seen Bobby attack Roger and threaten his life. This didn't match Bobby's version. Someone was lying. She put her
money on Stamos. Gail penned the word why, then a question mark.

Anthony was asking if Bobby would recognize Nikki Cresswell if he saw her.

"Oh, yeah. Roger's wife. A red-haired chick. I met
her a couple of times at family picnics and stuff Sean
took me to."

"Did you see her at Jack's house the night of the party?"

"No. She called him, though. I forgot about it till
now. It was about . . . ten-thirty? I recognized her
voice. She asked to speak to Jack, and I couldn't find
him, so I told her to call back later."

"Did she say anything else?"

"No, she just asked for Jack. She might've been in
her car. I could hear road noises."

Anthony looked over at Gail, who had already begun to write it down.

Bobby explained why he had left the party early, even though Jack Pascoe had paid him to clean up.
Angela had called him, so Bobby had told Jack to pay him only for the time he was there. Anthony
made no comments about Bobby's relationship with his daughter. They went off for some time, however,
on a discussion of Bobby's family background, but
by this time Bobby's confidence had been so restored
that he spoke without hesitation. The poor Puerto
Rican boy from East Harlem who had made a career in classical ballet.

Finally Anthony set both hands on the arms of his chair and announced that he was finished. Did Ms.
Connor have any questions? Ms. Connor said she
did not.

Gail looked at her watch and was astonished to find that nearly two hours had passed.

They walked Bobby to the door. Anthony said,
"I'm helping you as a favor to Ms. Connor, but you
should know that my first duty is to Nathan Harris.
If there is any conflict between the two of you, you're
on your own. It has to be that way. Do you under
stand?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

He wrote a number on the back of a business card. "Call me if you have any questions. In the unlikely
event that you can't reach me through my service, try my pager. It's always on."

"Thanks. You too, Ms. Connor." Bobby shook
their hands.

Anthony gave him two twenties and sent him in search of a taxi back to the beach.

Gail closed the front door. "Well. Who do we go after now? Jack Pascoe or Sean's father?"

"We can hand them both over. Not yet, but soon, I think. Yes. Did you hear what he said about Nikki?"

"You may be right after all," Gail admitted.

Anthony replied with a slight shrug.

"You were very good with Bobby. He likes you.
He didn't want to, but he does, and he'll tell Angela
how you saved him from the police interrogation squad, and how smart you are.
'Mamita,
I'm so sur
prised. He's not a monster. Why are you giving your
papi
such a hard time?' "

Allowing a smile, Anthony said, "Well, it's not so
bad, then."

"And you didn't have that in the back of your
mind, when you burned rubber all the way to the
station?"

"I am doing this against my will. I should make
him pay for it."

"Good luck." Gail laughed over her shoulder as
she went back into her office. "Bobby gave me a hun
dred dollars. I'll split it with you. Oh, I plan to cash in when all the donors at the ballet find out what a
great lawyer I am. I just hope nobody expects me to handle a criminal case. My God, if you hadn't
been here."

"You would have managed."

"Oh, sure. After this, I'm sticking with civil
practice."

They both stood at the edge of her desk. The mo
ment went on, neither of them speaking. His eyes
were still warm from his smile. Gail turned to flip a
page in her desk diary.

"What about Judge Harris? When can I talk to
him? My schedule is fairly open this week."

"I already asked him," Anthony said. "Wednesday afternoon around five o'clock at my office. Is that good?"

"Yes, fine.” She wrote it in the book, wondering
what kind of gossip would start flying in the halls
of Ferrer & Quintana when she walked through the
door. She jammed her pen toward a can that Karen
had decorated and got it in on the second try. He
was standing a little too close, and the scent of his
cologne entered her head. His hand rested on the
desk, and he was drumming his fingers on its sur
face. Cheerily she said, "I'll write up my notes in the
morning and bring them over. Remember what he
said about Ted Stamos? It didn't match what Stamos
said to you, did it?"

"Let me take you to lunch. Bring your notes. You
know, we have a lot to decide with this case. Who talks to whom, what to do first—"

"I promised Karen I'd be home."

"An hour. You have to eat somewhere, no?"

"Oh, I can't. She's packing a picnic basket for the beach. If I'm late, she'll have a fit. It's our last day
before she starts school tomorrow."

Acknowledging this with a nod, he said, "Of
course. You should be with your daughter." When she reached for her purse, he put a hand lightly on
her arm. "Gail, wait. There is something I need to
ask you."

"I really have to get home," she said.

"This won't take long." He was looking at her in
that same strangely intense way that had set her
nerves jittering before. "Are you pregnant?"

Her mouth opened, but her brain refused to accept
that he had asked this.

"I said, are you pregnant?" Same words, same
soft intonation.

Impossibilities flashed in her mind. Her mother
had called him. A friend had betrayed her. A sound
less laugh finally came out. "That is ridiculous."

"Are you?"

"No. My God. Of course I'm not." She could feel the blood coursing into her face. "Anthony, that's .. . impossible. Birth control? Remember?"

"Sometimes it fails. So I've heard." His eyes shifted
back and forth on hers, then narrowed slightly.
"Look at me and tell me again. No, right here." He
bent slightly to see directly into her face. "Gail? Are
you going to have a child?"

"No! Anthony, stop it." She turned her head.

His fingers tightened on her upper arms.
"Jesu
cristo, es verdad."
She felt the words as a breath on her cheek. "You didn't tell me. Why?" He held her
more tightly when she tried to twist away. "My
child, and you didn't tell me? Why not?"

She closed her eyes, unable to speak.

"Last night I said to myself, no, that's crazy, she
can't be pregnant. But what if she is? Why didn't she
tell me? I didn't believe you, when you said you
were going to live with your ex-husband. Maybe it's true. And maybe you didn't tell me because this isn't
my child. Is it?" He grasped her face and turned it
so he could see her. Color burned along his cheek
bones, and his lips were tight against his teeth. "I
asked you a question. Is it mine?"

How quickly rage ignited, incendiary and explo
sive. Her right palm connected before any con
scious thought.

"Cara'o."
He touched his fingers to his upper lip.

Trembling, Gail shook her hair out of her eyes.
"Go ahead. Call me a whore like you did last time."

"I never called you a whore."

"You did. A lying whore. 'Get out of my life, you
lying whore.'" Her voice broke.
"Puta mentirosa.
What is that?"

He stared at her. "Gail—I don't remember, I swear to you—"

'"You thought I'd been sleeping with my ex-husband.
Engaged to
you.
In love with
you
—fool that I was— and sleeping with
Dave?
How
dare
you?"

"I was wrong." He reached for her, and she
pushed him away.

"You ruined a man whose only crime was trying
to be a good father. Destroyed his business, and sent
him to work in a second-rate resort at the other end
of the Caribbean!"

"Gail, I offered to give him whatever he wanted, and you refused. I offered to bring him back. I'll still
do it. Is that what you want?"

"Never a thought what it would do to Karen."

"I'm willing to start over, to do anything. Gail, a child! How can you turn your back? This changes everything—"

"You had to control me, to lock me into your little kingdom, a petty tyrant like your grandfather, never
mind who it hurt—"

"Did you tell me what you felt? Never. You drove
me crazy with your lies and half-truths. What did
you expect me to think?"

"You wanted me out of your life. Fine. I'm
gone."

"Stop! Enough. Go ahead. Hit me again. Get it out of your system—"

She hit him again, more fist than palm.

"Cono. iQue me haces?"
He put a hand to his eye. "Do you hate me that much? I have a forty-five pistol
in my car. You want to shoot me? No, this is better."
He grabbed a letter opener out of the can on her
desk, sending pens clattering and rolling across the surface. "Do it with this, why don't you? Stab me in
the heart. I've been accused and found guilty. Now
the execution." He held the point at his chest, handle
toward her. "Take it. Go ahead.
Mdtame,
Cut my heart out. Would that make you happy?"

She fell onto the sofa weeping.

"What do you want from me? What?
iMe quieres
mandar pa'l carajo? Ya estoy ahi."
The letter opener clanged against the wall.
"No tienes corazon.
You are
heartless. A cold and unforgiving woman. I pray to
God you don't turn the child—
my
child—into the
same piece of stone."

She heard his footsteps moving away. A few sec
onds later the outer door slammed.

Bobby called Sean's cell phone and found out he was over on the beach. Mustang just out of the shop, had a friend from school and a couple of girls with him. Bobby told him he had some coke and a few Roofies
he could let go cheap because he needed to raise
some cash. He told Sean to get rid of his friends and meet him back of the tire store on Miami Ave. Five
minutes, straight over the causeway.

Bobby parked his car and sat on the front fender. Brothers from his street watching his back. Trees blocking the houses. Enough light to see the chain-link fence. Glass sparkling on the ground like stars.
Bobby hadn't felt like this in a long time. No fear. His body running on some force outside itself.

He heard the Mustang before he saw it. A rumble, a throb in the air. Then it went off, and the car came around the corner, glinting under the streetlight be
fore coming into the shadows.

Driver's door opened, shut. Sean doing the homeboy strut. Big shirt with horizontal stripes, baggy shorts to
his knees. Silver ring shining on his eyebrow.