Potter laughed. ‘You forgot Dante. I need an alibi for him, too.’
‘Does that mean he’s no longer among us?’
Again, Potter laughed. ‘I think I’ll wait for the punch line,’ he said.
I finished my drink, looked over at the bar, finally set my glass on the table. The last thing I needed was more booze.
‘You hooked up to the Internet, Linus?’ I asked.
‘Gimme a fuckin’ break.’
‘Hey, don’t take that attitude. You can find out all kinds of interesting things on the web. For instance, I once stumbled across a CIA interrogation manual posted on this obscure bulletin board. Call it idle curiosity, but I printed the manual out and read it in one night. Interrogation has always been my strong point.’
‘Mine, too. Only I got a suspicion we employ different methods.’
‘That I wouldn’t doubt. Anyway, the manual was pretty much a rehash of techniques you can read about in any textbook. But this one thing did catch my attention. The manual warned Agency de-briefers of a problem I’d never encountered. Terrorists and spies, it seems, are likely to have prepared fall-back stories to offer their interrogators if the pressure becomes intolerable. You understand, these fall-back stories are very elaborate and completely fabricated.’
‘You talkin’ about Ellen Lodge?’
‘From the beginning, I thought I could break her.’
‘And you couldn’t?’
‘Nope, Ellen had her fall-back story down pat: Dante Russo, Dante Russo, Dante Russo. She was so well prepared, I couldn’t reach her. But I remembered this CIA manual as the interrogation went along, and that’s how come I realized there was no way Ellen could’ve dreamed up this story on her own. It was too intricate, too complete. Somebody familiar with interrogation techniques had to provide the details and drill her until the words came automatically; somebody bold enough to insert himself into an investigation; a vain, narcissistic freak named Linus Potter.’
Potter wagged a finger in my direction. ‘You could go too far, Harry.’
As that was my aim, I ignored the remark. ‘You and Ellen Lodge, you wouldn’t be an item, would you?’
At that, Adele snorted, a contemptuous honk that Potter ignored, though his eyes shifted as he considered the question. I knew there had to be a connection between them, and that the grand jury would eventually uncover that connection. Potter apparently knew it as well.
‘Don’t talk dirty about Ellen,’ he cautioned. ‘She’s my cousin and we grew up in the same house. It was me who introduced her and Davy.’
‘Well, I got some hot news for you, Linus. Your family ties are not gonna cut it.’ I shook my head as I repeated the message I’d sent to Ellen Lodge. ‘Conspiracy to commit murder carries a penalty of life without parole. Eventually, Ellen’s gonna turn.’
But my news wasn’t news at all. Linus had been all over this ground. ‘She will,’ he admitted without hesitation. ‘Unless…’
‘Unless some co-conspirator, in a moment of panic, decides to kill her? Me, I don’t want that to happen.’
‘So, you’re here to protect Ellen? That’s what you want me to believe?’
‘I got a better question, Linus. Do you think freaks are happy bein’ freaks? I’m asking you this because you’re a freak, so you should know the answer. And I’m not talking about your body. I’m talking about inside your head, where you live. You’re so afraid someone’s gonna see what’s in there, you sit with your back to the room. But I’m lookin’ directly at you now, so I can see the misshapen little freak hiding behind your eyes. He’s a baby, that freak, an infant. Greed is what he knows, greed and envy, a kid who wants the tit every minute of every day. Are you gonna let the freak run the show, Linus? Are you gonna let the freak put you in a cell for the rest of your life? Are you that fucking stupid?’
Potter’s eyes were shifting now, avoiding the unexpected onslaught. That I would challenge him this way in a public place had caught him by surprise.
‘Christ, Harry, you’re hell on wheels,’ he finally muttered. ‘Hell on wheels.’ His eyes went flat as he completed the statement and I became unable to read anything in them.
‘Tell me about Paco Luna,’ I asked.
‘The goose that laid the golden eggs.’
‘The eggs that had to be laundered at Greenpoint Carton?’
‘The very same eggs. Fact is, Harry, it was Luna who set up Clarence Spott seven years ago. Luna knew Spott would be transporting product because Luna sold the product to Spott in the first place. But you said something about an item that would seal my fate. I gotta admit, I’m anxious to hear what it is.’
I leaned back in the seat and allowed the air to fill with the hum of the refrigerator behind the bar and the faint buzz of a small neon sign in the front window. The sign’s tubing was curled and twisted to form a tiny green leprechaun. Right eye closed in a leering wink, the leprechaun’s head was tilted to one side. A line of script above his top hat announced: HARP.
Behind the bar, Mike was leaning forward, one elbow resting in a puddle. His eyes were hard-focused, his attention given over to our little drama. When Adele was the one to break the silence, Mike’s head shot up as though he’d been punched.
‘Have you ever had sex with a woman, Linus?’ she asked. ‘I don’t mean a whore. I mean a woman who wanted to be in bed with you.’
Potter thought it over for a minute, his expression unchanging, then, without looking at Adele, said, ‘You’re pushin’ the wrong buttons, Harry.’
Adele replied before I could speak. ‘It was me who went to the DA. Don’t blame Harry. I’m the one. If you have a complaint, you should direct it to me. That’s assuming you have the balls to look a woman in the eye.’
When Linus didn’t respond, I confirmed Adele’s statement. ‘Would ya believe, Linus, that in spite of everything we did, all our efforts, an Inspector named Thaddeus Clark told me that I should mind my own business? That’s why Adele went around the job, why she used her connections to push the DA into convening a grand jury. That grand jury, it’s gonna look at everything, from Clarence Spott to Dante Russo. And what they’re gonna come up with, sooner or later, is you.’
‘This I already know.’
I leaned forward over the table, my face gradually becoming more animated as I went on. ‘Look, here’s the way I see it unfolding. The memory David Lodge recovers leads him to Pete Jarazelsky, who is then persuaded to come across with additional details. Nobody’s fool, Pete soon warns certain compromised parties back in New York. There isn’t any rush, since Jarazelsky’s beating occurs six months before Lodge is released.’ I paused long enough to take a breath. I was going to run a bluff here. Though I’d made a mental note to ask Deputy Warden Beauchamp for a list of Jarazelsky’s visitors, I hadn’t actually done it.
‘The first thing I asked myself was exactly who Jarazelsky contacted after the beating. The second thing was the means by which this communication took place. A phone call, a letter, or person-to-person. As it turned out, the right choice was door number three. The right choice was Linus Potter, who also visited Pete Jarazelsky whenever he went to see David Lodge, two good deeds for the price of one. Tell me, was Jarazelsky smart enough to hold something in reserve when David Lodge fell upon him? Like your name?’
Potter raised his mug and stared at the few inches of beer at the bottom. The beer was flat and he swirled the mug several times before drinking.
‘Seems like the last one,’ he declared, ‘outta be better than that.’
He set down the mug and raised his eyes to mine. They were as opaque as ever, but this time I was glad. If I’d been wrong, Potter would have been unable to conceal his triumph.
‘When Davy cornered Pete down in the prison laundry,’ he said, ‘it was like a gorilla dropped out of a tree to land on a kitten. Pete had no defense whatsoever. Now, ya gotta figure Pete was terrified, what with the rumors that Davy killed a guy in Cayuga. But Pete was smart, too, and he’d been ins
ide for a long time by then. He only gave up Szarek and Russo.’
‘And that left you to play the good guy with David Lodge.’
‘Me and Ellen.’ Potter lapsed into a momentary silence, his eyes dropping to the table. Finally, he said, ‘Davy couldn’t be reasoned with.’
‘Neither can Pete.’ I waited a moment, but Potter had nothing to say. We were coming to the end and we both knew it. ‘Being in Attica presents Jarazelsky with advantages and disadvantages. On the one hand, he’s safe. Even if you kill them all, Ellen Lodge and whoever else is involved, you can’t eliminate Jarazelsky. On the other hand, Pete’s isolated. He has no idea what’s going on down here. He’ll find out, of course, and when he does, my bet is that he’s on the phone to the DA within twenty-four hours. That’ll be it for you, Linus, unless you move first.’
The phone rang at that moment. I think Mike Blair would have preferred to ignore it, but he finally stepped away from the bar after the fifth ring. When he did, Adele reached into her purse to withdraw the S amp;W revolver.
‘You asked before, about why,’ she said. ‘About why Corbin didn’t quit. Now, I’m going to tell you. Corbin would never admit this, but he takes crime personally.’
Mike Blair picked up the phone and muttered a few words into the mouthpiece. When he hung up and turned to find Adele pointing the. 38 at Potter’s head, he decided to remain where he was.
‘When you commit a crime on Corbin’s watch,’ Adele continued, ‘he sees it as an act of contempt. For him, it’s like being challenged on the street. If you ignore the insult, your entire world implodes. This is a narrow view, and quite emotional at its base, but it’s still a view that produces results. This was especially true in your case, Linus. In fact, your intrusion so upset my partner that he risked his career in order to bring you down. See, from Corbin’s point of view, Linus Potter’s decision to pit his intelligence and abilities against Harry Corbin’s was more than a challenge. It was a calculated act of disrespect by a marked inferior. That’s really why he came to Sparkle’s in a blizzard. To show you that no pin-head freak can beat Harry Corbin at the game of policing. To show you face to face. Tell me something: how do you like it? Does it feel good? Does it feel as good, for instance, as hitting me in the face with a bat?’
Potter’s mouth expanded into a tight and bitter smile. His eyes began to shift again, back and forth, from pure hate almost to the point of regret.
‘You’ll have to excuse my partner,’ I said. ‘She tends to over-analyze. But it does seem to me you have a pair of viable options, Linus. And one that’s not viable. Let’s take the last option first. You could walk out the door right now and hide behind your lawyer. That would buy you a couple of weeks of freedom. But you don’t really want that, not after the way you’ve been humiliated tonight. You realize, of course, that once the story of what happened here gets around, you won’t be able to leave your house. Knowing, as you will, that everybody else knows, too.’
Once again, Mike Blair spoke up. Again, he made a plea for calm. This time, Linus Potter responded first. ‘Shut up, Mike,’ he said. Then he jerked his chin in my direction. ‘The viable options,’ he said. ‘Let’s hear ’em.’
‘The first one’s called redemption. I’m not armed, Linus. The shooting board took my weapon. If you wanted to, you could show me the error of my ways right this minute. And when you think about it, killing me, killing my partner, even killing good old Mike — it wouldn’t make all that much difference. You’re already on the hook for life without parole. Plus, if you redeem your honor, it’ll do wonders for your self-esteem.’
Potter shifted his weight to allow the right side of his unbuttoned jacket to fall to the side. ‘And what’s the downside?’ he asked.
‘The downside is that Adele’s pointing a gun at the back of your head, so you’re gonna have to be really quick.’
The information had no discernible effect on Linus Potter. ‘What’s my other option?’
‘The freak’s not gonna like this one, Linus, not one bit. The other option is confession, which is good for the soul, but not for the freak. Ellen’s still holding out. Jarazelsky’s in the dark. That gives you the option of being first. Now I know you’ve employed this line yourself, so I’m not gonna belabor the point. But if you want, we’ll take you down to the DA, right now, and you can cut that good deal.’
‘You and your partner, you want to take me to the DA?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Like I’m some kind of fucking trophy.’
‘I told ya the freak wouldn’t like it.’
Potter laughed. ‘In my whole adult life,’ he declared, ‘nobody has ever talked to me like this. It takes some gettin’ used to.’ He settled back in his seat and called out, ‘Hey, Mike, you think you could bring me that one last beer? The beer I been practicing all my life to drink?’
Blair waited for me to nod, then drew off a mug of Guinness. He brought it over to the table, careful to remain out of the line of fire, and set it down. Potter turned far enough to raise the mug in Sparkle’s general direction, then drank it dry.
‘Make up your mind, Linus. Which way do you wanna go?’
Linus answered by rising to his feet, then turning to face Adele and the gun she now held with both hands. Though he was seeing her weapon for the first time, his expression didn’t change. ‘You gonna shoot me, Adele?’ He spread his own hands apart. ‘I mean, I’m not threatening anyone here.’
After a moment, Potter took a step forward, then another, each step measured and deliberate. When they were ten feet apart, Adele cocked the revolver, the sharp click seeming almost obscene in my ears. Linus came to a stop at that point and I hastened to take myself out of the line of fire, circling to Potter’s right. If Potter took another step, I was certain that Adele would kill him.
Potter let his hands drop to his sides as he looked past me to Mike Blair. On the way, our eyes met for just a moment. The rage and the hate were gone now, discarded like a Halloween mask. In their place, I registered layer upon layer of pain, a bone-deep sorrow that revealed everything the freak wanted to hide. Mike Blair stared directly into those eyes for several seconds. I don’t know what he saw, or even if he recognized anything beyond the immediate threat. But Mike’s tone, when he commented, was far from compassionate.
‘If she blows your fucking brains out,’ he declared, ‘I’m gonna claim you made a try for your weapon.’
Potter flinched, the rebuke sharp enough to sting. He had no friends here. Slowly, he let his head come round far enough to face me.
‘More than I don’t wanna go to prison, I don’t wanna die,’ he explained with an apologetic shrug of his massive shoulders. ‘Would ya believe that?’
‘How about more than you want revenge?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘more than that, too.’
I came up behind him, then reached across his body to jerk his automatic out of its holster. As I backed away, I looked over at Adele. What I saw in her eyes was disappointment.
‘Besides,’ Potter said, ‘I swear, I was hardly involved.’
‘Just an innocent bystander?’
He winked. ‘Harry, you’re hell on wheels.’
FORTY-TWO
My first instinct was to put the whole business behind me. After all, the bad guys were knocking on the DA’s door, each begging for an opportunity to testify against the others, and against Paco Luna whose operation was being systematically attacked by a task force that included the FBI and the DEA. About this outcome, I argued to myself, there was nothing not to like.
I made that rationalization last a couple of weeks, but it was like the first time you try to give up cigarettes. Somehow, the cravings just won’t go away. In this case, what I craved was an answer, and not even the mini-honeymoon Adele and I were thoroughly enjoying was enough to sooth the itch.
‘I have to do something about it,’ I finally told Adele.
‘Corbin,’ she replied, ‘are you taking this personally?’
I watched the knowing smile on her lips gradually expand, then came back at her with the wickedest shot in my arsenal. ‘Ya know, Adele, if you weren’t a girl, I’d hit you with this pillow.’
The proof was easy enough to gather, no more than the afternoon it took to track Justin Whitlock to an apartment on Avenue S, in Brooklyn. But I wasn’t satisfied with the proof, not even close. I wanted to know why, and that took a while, forcing us once again to dip into Adele’s old-girl network. As it turned out, we were well into the month of March by the time I fired up the Nissan and started out for Port Washington on the north shore of Long Island.
Bill Sarney was living the good life. His three-story colonial had wings at either end, one newly constructed, by the look of the still-raw brick, and a cobblestone driveway that swept up to the front of the house. Despite the fog, the paint job on an S-Class Mercedes parked in that driveway gleamed as though lit from within.
The money for all this high living came from Bill Sarney’s wife, Rebecca, a senior partner at some Wall Street law firm with too many names to remember. I’d met Rebecca the few times I’d been out to the house, and I only had two memories of her. The first of her small and graceful hand, offered with the palm down, the second of her clear devotion to her husband and her two children.
The front door opened as I walked up the flagstone path, and Bill Sarney stepped onto the porch. He was wearing gray wool slacks, freshly pressed, and a pale blue shirt that fit tightly over the small bulge of his belly.
‘Rebecca took the kids to her sister’s,’ he explained as I walked past him. ‘We’ve got the place to ourselves.’
He closed and double-locked the door behind us, then led me through the living and dining rooms, to that newly built wing on the side of the house which he’d turned into a billiard room. I smiled appreciatively. The green felt on the table was so smooth it might have been combed fur.
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