by Parnell Hall
“I have no idea.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I do.”
“Oh, really? Then why don’t you fill me in?”
“All right, I will. To begin with, this witness, Phil Janson—was he one of the first witnesses you talked to or one of the last?”
“One of the last. In fact, he was the last.”
“Which means you talked to him after you talked to MacAullif?”
“Huh?”
“When you called on this witness—that was after the first time you talked to MacAullif about the case? After you hinted around about a possible alibi?”
“Yeah. So?”
“You watch your backside?”
“Are you saying I was followed?”
“Were you?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“I would expect a private detective to be able to spot a tail.”
I looked at him. “Richard, this is stupid. You’re pissed off because MacAullif found this witness, but it’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Oh, yeah. You think the cops would have found him if you hadn’t talked to MacAullif?”
“You sent me to MacAullif.”
“To get information, not to give it.”
“We’ve been through this before.”
“Yes, we have. At the time, you didn’t think it could possibly make any difference. I trust that you know better now.”
“Richard, this is childish.”
“Childish? Stanley, this is not a game. This is a murder case.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Are you? Then you realize how important it is to know if you were followed to this witness.”
“I don’t think I was.”
“Oh, no? And why not? Are you telling me you could have spotted a tail?”
“No, I’m not. But I still don’t think so. After all, this is just one guy. He’s not the only witness I talked to after I spoke to MacAullif.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. You pulled me in, sent me to MacAullif. I’d only spoken to two or three guys.”
“Two or three?”
“That’s off the top of my head. You want it exactly?”
“It would help.”
I pulled my notebook out of my jacket pocket, found the page. “I covered three witnesses before you pulled me in. Then I saw MacAullif. I covered the rest of the witnesses the next day.”
“How many was that?”
“Three. There were six in the game. Seven, counting Anson.”
“You saw three before MacAullif and three after? And this Phil Janson was the last one?”
I looked in my notebook again. “Actually, I’m wrong about that. He was next to last. The last was Tim Hendricks. He was last because he was the least important because he went home at twelve o’clock.
“Uh-huh.”
“I also saw Barry Brown, but I saw him before Phil Janson. I saw them in that order. Barry Brown, Phil Janson, Tim Hendricks. Phil Janson was right in the middle. Which is even better. If the cops were following me, there’s no way they’d just find him. They’d get the other guys too.”
“Let’s see if they did.”
“Huh?”
“You got the numbers there? Let’s call them and see if they did.”
“Wouldn’t they call in?”
“Who knows?” Richard jerked his thumb. “This guy, he’s a pantywaist. The cops lean on him he’s got two choices, talk or yell for his mother. As it happens, we lucked out. But these other guys, who knows?”
“I don’t think they’d talk.”
“You’ll pardon me if I’d like more than your assurances. You got their numbers there?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s give ’em a try. Who was the last guy you spoke to?”
“Tim Hendricks.”
“Fine. Let’s try him.”
I checked the notebook. “Actually, that would be tough.”
“Oh?”
“You’ll never get him. He’s on the floor of the stock exchange.”
“Oh. Well, what about the other one?”
“That would be Barry Brown. Him you could get.”
“Oh? What’s he do?”
“Runs an ad agency.”
“Got his number?”
“Yeah.”
I gave Richard the number and he punched it into the phone. “Barry Brown, please. This is Richard Rosenberg.” There was a pause, then Richard said, “Tell him it’s Anson’s lawyer and it’s urgent.” Moments later, “Barry Brown, this is Richard Rosenberg. I’m Anson Carbinder’s lawyer. You’ve already spoken with my investigator, Stanley Hastings, concerning the poker game... Yes, that’s right. The reason I’m calling is to ask if anyone else has contacted you concerning the game. In particular, the police or the district attorney’s office... They haven’t? You sure about that?... Well, if they do, I believe my investigator gave you my card. Do you have it?... That’s right. Richard Rosenberg. Now, listen, the first hint of a police officer, anyone sniffing around—would you give me a call? Believe me, you’d be doing Anson a big favor... Thanks a lot. I appreciate it.”
Richard hung up the phone. “Nice guy.”
Of course, he’d say that. Barry Brown had struck me as a prick. But I wasn’t about to start another argument.
“So that’s the story,” Richard said. “If the guy’s telling the truth, the cops haven’t found him. Of course, you saw him before Phil Janson.”
“But after MacAullif,” I pointed out. “So if I were being followed, I’d have led the cops to him first. I didn’t, which should rule out that theory.”
“Unless.”
“Unless what?”
“Unless the cops were working backwards and hadn’t gotten to him yet.”
“In which case they’d have started with Tim Hendricks.”
“Whom we can’t reach.”
“Right. So maybe they couldn’t, either. So they bypass him for Janson. That makes sense.”
“Great,” I said. “You happen to have any logical scenarios that aren’t my fault?”
“Can’t think of one. Can you?”
“How about an anonymous tip?”
“From whom?”
“I have no idea.”
“Me, either. And it makes no sense.”
“Makes as much sense as the cops follow me selectively to this one guy.”
“We don’t know that they did that.”
“We sure don’t.”
“I mean, we don’t know that it was selective. We still haven’t talked to what’s-his-name—the guy on the stock exchange. You sure he’s there now?”
“I should think so.”
“Well, you got his number? Let’s try.”
Richard called Tim Hendricks’s number, got an answering machine, left a message for him to call in.
When Richard hung up the phone, I said, “You want me to go down to the stock exchange, try to find him?”
Richard cocked his head. “Just in case you haven’t led the cops to him yet?”
“That’s not funny.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“You think the cops are following me right now?”
“If they are, they’re going to learn an awful lot about my negligence business.”
“Are you telling me I’m off the case?”
“Don’t be silly. There’s no case to be on. Anson’s out on bail and there’s nothing to do until the trial.”
“You got him out on bail?”
“Oh, sure. Nothing to it. The guy’s got money, why should he stay in jail?”
“It’s a good thing you’re not running for public office.”
“Don’t be a schmuck. If the rich couldn’t buy what they want, what would be the point of having all that money?”
“Yeah, fine,” I said. “But the bottom line is I’m off the case.”
“Stanley, you’re not listening. This is not like on TV—they’ve only got an hour, so they
gotta go right to court. This case won’t go to trial for months. In the meantime, there’s nothing to do. If the cops hadn’t found that witness, I wouldn’t be giving it a second thought.”
I exhaled. “So you really just called me in here to bawl me out.”
Richard gave me a look. “Stanley, you’re taking this personally. The cops found this witness. I called you in here to see if we could come up with any logical way that might have happened. It was a long shot at best, but one worth taking.”
“But—”
Richard put up his hand. “Stanley, you worry too much. Maybe you led the cops to this guy, maybe not. The point is, there’s no way to find out.”
Oh, yeah?
26
“ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?”
MacAullif frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I want to know if you’re following me.”
“You’re asking me on the theory that if I am I’ll tell you?”
“That’s right.”
“Then I’m not following you.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“And talk about not following you, I mean, I’m not following you. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Am I under surveillance? Am I being tailed? Are you, or anyone in your employ, following me around the city to see where I’ll go. More to the point, have I been under surveillance at any time since this case began?”
“What case?”
“Don’t piss me off, MacAullif, I’m in a very bad mood. The Anson Carbinder case. Have I been under police surveillance, either formal or informal, at any point in time since Anson Carbinder’s wife was murdered? Is that specific enough for you? Does that pin it down?”
MacAullif frowned, squinted at me. “What the hell got into you?”
“What’s the matter, can’t answer the question?”
“I can, but it’s not gonna help.”
“Why not?”
“It’s the policy of the department to deny police surveillance. I would tell you you weren’t being followed whether you were or not.”
I stared at him. “That’s practically a confirmation.”
“Not at all.”
“Then why do you say it?”
“Why do I say it?” MacAullif got up from his chair, walked around, and sat on the front of his desk. “I say it because you’re being a pain in the ass. I’m the investigating officer in the Anson Carbinder case. You’re on the other side, but you’re in my office almost every day. I’ve given you what I can, which may not be squat, but you’re lucky you’re not thrown out on your ear. But that’s not enough. You’re in here with a chip on your shoulder, wanting to know if I’m abusing our friendship—is that how you look at it?—by following you to see what you do?”
“And you know why.”
“And I know why? What is that, some subtle trick to get me to break down and admit I’m doing it?”
“No, it’s just a statement of fact.”
“Good. State me a fact, why don’t you, because as far as I’m concerned we’re just talking around in circles.”
“We’re talking in circles because you won’t give me a straight answer.”
“Straight answer about what? I told you our policy about surveillance, and I still have no idea why you want to know.” MacAullif snorted. “‘And you know why,’ indeed.”
“All right, I’ll tell you why. Richard Rosenberg just chewed me out for tipping you off to a witness.”
“What witness?”
“The one I supposedly led you to.”
“Led me to?”
“Right. And that’s the generous assessment. That’s assuming I didn’t just tell you about him.”
“Tell me about who?”
“You know who. You gave him your fucking business card.”
“Ah,” MacAullif said. “I would assume you were referring to Phil Janson. The rather nervous young gentleman who wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“Yeah, that Phil Janson. You wanna tell me how you got a line on him?”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Was it by following me?”
“Would that have led to him?” MacAullif shrugged. “Obviously it would, or you wouldn’t be asking the question. So, Janson is a witness, huh?”
Shit. Here it was, kick-myself-in-the-head time again. All my calling on MacAullif had done was to verify the fact Phil Janson was a witness, something the nervous young gentleman hadn’t done himself.
But it was too late to worry about that now.
“Yeah, he’s a witness,” I said. “Didn’t you get a hint when he refused to talk to you and called Richard Rosenberg?”
“That was a bit of a tip-off.”
“Did he do it in front of you?”
“Actually, he did.”
“You knew he called Rosenberg.”
“Yeah. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is, when I have to report this conversation I won’t get beat up for telling you the guy called Rosenberg. That’s something you already knew.”
“And no big secret, either,” MacAullif said. “Janson could have told you that.”
“Yeah, but I’m not talking to Janson,” I said. “I don’t know who I’m talking to anymore. Rosenberg’s so pissed off at me for what I supposedly told you.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“You’re telling me? Hey, why don’t you call up Rosenberg and tell him?”
“Yeah, that’d go over big,” MacAullif said. “Like getting a note from your mother for fucking up your homework. I could really see Rosenberg buying that.”
“Good. Then you see my problem. Then you see how fucking frustrating this is.”
MacAullif nodded. “I’ll buy that.”
“But you can’t see your way clear to telling me if I’m being followed.”
“Don’t be a jerk. If you were being followed, you’d know it.”
“In the past, that has not proven to be true.”
“Right. So you learn from it. You become more cautious.”
“Did you follow me to Janson, yes or no?”
“Grow up. I can’t tell you how we found Janson.”
“Can you tell me how you didn’t find Janson?”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“Me? You’re the one playing word games.”
MacAullif sighed, walked around, and sat down at his desk again. He leaned back in his chair, cocked his head. “Look. Suppose I told you I didn’t follow you to Janson. You go to Rosenberg, you tell him that, you think that satisfies him? You think he’s gonna believe me? You think that’s the end of it?”
“I’d believe you.”
“Big fucking deal. Whaddya after here? You trying to make things right with Rosenberg, or you trying to ease your conscience? Think about it. If you don’t give a shit about what Rosenberg thinks, then you’re in here because you feel bad that you might have led me to a witness and you wanna hear me say it isn’t so. Well, get real. Every murder case doesn’t happen to be a moral gymnasium built expressly for the purpose of testing your character.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“What?”
“That’s practically a line from Man and Superman.”
“What’s that?”
“You ever read Shaw?”
“Who?”
“Never mind. You wanna tell me what’s so important about this witness?”
“You wanna tell me.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Same here. Why don’t you do us both a big favor and leave me the fuck alone.”
I sighed, shook my head. “You know what’s unfair?”
“What?”
“It was Rosenberg sent me here in the first place.”
“I know that. You know what else I know? I know you hinted around about Carbinder having an alibi. I know this guy Janson’s probably one of the alibi witnesses.” MacAullif shook his head. “That’s the problem with
this fucking case. If Carbinder’s got a real alibi, he should have just come out with it. But Rosenberg’s so hot to play defense attorney he’s pulling all this cloak-and-dagger shit. And to what end? So he can hold the guy up for a big fee? So he can have fun in court? I tell you, just between you and me, it’s a bad move. Wellington is pissed off, and Wellington is gonna take this one to the limit. You get in a situation where Carbinder wants to cop a plea, it’s gonna be Katey, bar the door.”
“I can imagine.”
“Can you? Then imagine this. I don’t like being in the middle on this one anymore than you do. But that’s the way things are. Now, the trial is months away. In the meantime, as far as I’m concerned, this case is over. I’m into other things. If you weren’t here, I’d be doing them now. Just in case you’d like to take that as a hint.”
“You’re through investigating the case?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“Then why’d you look up this guy Janson?”
MacAullif sighed. “I’ve told you all I can. Why don’t you get the fuck out of here?”
“Were you investigating the case yesterday?”
“Yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Well, you say you wrapped up the case. And the grand jury indicted Carbinder. I’m just wondering why you would be working on the case after the grand jury indictment.”
“Oh, you were wondering that.”
“Yeah. Particularly, since you didn’t get to Phil Janson till today.”
“Well, well, well,” MacAullif said. “Look who’s made a deduction.” He shook his head, said, “Finally.”
He shook his head again.
“Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look.”
27
ON THE OTHER HAND, MAYBE I AM.
Because, whatever MacAullif might think, I wasn’t sure exactly what it was I had deduced.
What I think it was, was if he had completed his investigation and then got a line to Phil Janson, he certainly didn’t get it through me. Because I’d called on Phil Janson before the grand jury indictment, and if he’d been following me, I’d have led him to him then. And if he knew about him then, why would he wait to call on him until later?
Unless that was the point. That the cops, at Beef Wellington’s insistence, had deliberately refrained from running down the alibi witnesses until after the indictment was in.
