We spread out so she wouldn’t see us.
She pulled up and found the parking space that the cops had intentionally made for her.
She went to the trunk and pulled out the brown package.
Then she went into the gallery.
We waited exactly one minute and then followed her inside.
She was already next to Oscar Krieger.
The art dealer suddenly saw a large number of police. Then his eyes focused on my face. He slumped down in his chair.
Flanagan had to let the New York City guys make the arrest.
The cops checked the painting and then arrested one art dealer and one young woman who painted fakes.
The cops talked to me for a while. Ari waited discreetly at a deli two blocks over.
When I was done, I went outside.
I turned a corner and was pulled into an alley. I immediately recognized the man who had grabbed me. His large body blocked anyone from the sidewalk from seeing that I was there.
He looked at me.
“Hello, Ryle.”
I nodded.
“It’s nice to see you again.”
Another nod.
“I guess it’s on to business.”
I didn’t want to nod anymore.
Then he pulled out a hammer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“You don’t want to do this, Jeffers. The Governor doesn’t need the trouble. My boss will help him.”
“Shut up, Ryle. You can’t stop yourself, so someone has to stop you. And I...”
I didn’t even see him, but Ari had kicked Jeffers in the back of his knee. When he slumped, Ari used his head to butt Jeffers’ head. My head hurt from watching. Jeffers lay on the ground.
Ari stared at me. “You really should learn to take care of yourself.”
“I thought you were in the deli.”
“It is difficult to walk away from corned beef on rye,” he said, “but your father and Mrs.Lucey would kill me if I let you get a hammer smashed against your head several times.”
I nodded. “That’s what he intended to do.”
“What are we supposed to do with him?”
“Pick him up. I need to talk with the thug.”
Ari picked him up and then surprised me. He surprised Jeffers even more by hitting him hard in the stomach.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said. “He was ready to talk.”
“You need to stiffen your spine, Danny.”
I wasn’t about to argue with him.
I turned to Jeffers.
“You have one minute. You talk to me and you have a chance. You don’t talk and I turn you over to my friend.”
“He’s not so tough.”
I laughed.
“Yeah. You looked much tougher lying on the ground.”
“I’ve got nothing to say.”
“I’ve got a simple question. We have your hammer. I bet there’s enough evidence on it to convict you for killing Bret Roth, an artist named Umberto, and Rabbi Siegel.”
“I don’t know a Rabbi Siegel.”
“You knew him enough to shoot him.”
He shook his head.
“You’re wrong, Ryle. I never use any weapon that shoots. It’s too noisy. I don’t like shotguns or revolvers or any other type of firearms.”
“So you only killed Roth and Umberto?”
“Talk to my lawyer. I’m only saying to you I didn’t kill this Siegel person if he got shot.”
He suddenly bent over.
“My stomach hurts,” he said. “I think your friend here made my stomach bleed. I think he killed me. You’ll both spend the rest of your lives in jail. You better get me to the hospital.”
I looked at Ari.
He shook his head.
“We’re taking him to a hospital. When he gets there, I’ll call the cops.”
We put him in the back seat of the car. Ari drove, and I sat in the back next to Jeffers.
We had gone two blocks, when Jeffers pointed out the window to my left.
“Isn’t that a hospital?”
I looked.
He punched me, opened the door, and rolled out, hitting the street. Two cars honked.
Ari stopped.
More honking.
I moved across the seat, the side of my head still hurting, and jumped out.
Jeffers was up and running.
I saw him go into the store.
Ari was trapped. He couldn’t leave the car, so he looked for a parking spot. I chased after Jeffers. I saw him on an escalator. He was taking two steps at a time as it moved up.
Apologizing repeatedly, I moved past the customers as I ran after Jeffers. My father wouldn’t have approved. He would have said I was the dog chasing the car, uncertain of what to do if I caught it. But still I ran.
I got to the second floor. It was filled with televisions. I looked around, saw Jeffers, and charged toward him.
He moved behind a pillar, and when I got there he had disappeared. Then I saw another aisle and dashed as quickly as I could to its end.
He was far from me now.
He had gotten to the elevator. I stayed and watched. He had taken it to the top floor.
A roof escape.
I found a security guard, showed him my Congressional credentials, and muttered something about a national emergency. I asked him the way to the roof.
I found the entrance to the roof.
Almost.
I had to jump, grab the edge of the roof, and slowly pull myself up. I swung one leg over the top and pulled my body.
Safe.
I looked around.
He was there, running. It was a clear moment for me. I needed training. A lot of training.
Jeffers was headed for the other end. There was another building, unconnected to this one but not far, maybe a few feet below the store building.
I watched as Jeffers jumped from one building to the next.
I gulped.
I couldn’t let him go.
Running to the edge of the building, I looked over the edge of the roof. I couldn’t see any walls or attachments. I didn’t want to trip trying to jump over.
I tried to judge the distance to the other building. I knew if it were much lower, I would be in trouble.
Then I looked at the distance. I guessed I could clear ten feet, maybe eleven because I might be able to grab on to the lower roof. I wasn’t very good at estimating distances but I guessed there were about eight feet between the buildings. I should be able to make the jump. Jeffers had.
I went by instinct. I moved back about fifty feet from the edge of the roof.
Then I charged, sprinting at full speed toward the end of the roof. When I got there I made a desperate leap. I stretched out my arms as far as I could force them. I was ready to grab onto the edge of the roof.
I landed on the other roof on my feet. Then I tucked my head and rolled sideways on my shoulders. I had to be careful of my head hitting.
My arms hurt, but I got up. I quickly scanned the roof, found a door, and went down.
The building was another store.
It had a lot of high-quality goods in it.
What it didn’t have was Jeffers.
He had escaped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The New York City police called me. Oscar Krieger said he wished to talk to the police, but only after he spoke to me. The cops weren’t very happy about this. Some Captain called to growl at Al Flanagan.
When I walked into the room, Krieger was sitting with his lawyer. He was handcuffed. Two detectives were standing up across from Krieger.
I sat down and he said, “The way this is going to work is I’m going to speak to Mr. Ryle alone. My hands are cuffed. My legs are in iron. There are no windows in the room. There is only one door. I don’t care. Put a tank on the other side of the door. But I speak to Mr. Ryle alone.”
There were five minutes of yelling punctuated by the unique accents of angry New Y
ork City inhabitants.
We were finally alone.
“Mr. Ryle, I am going to make a deal. Or rather, my very expensive lawyer is. I take it that the deal involves a greatly reduced sentence at a minimum security prison on very pleasant grounds.”
“That’s a good deal you’ve got there, Mr. Krieger. Do you mind telling me how your lawyer managed to do that?”
“My lawyer said I was going to hand someone very, very big over to them.”
“You mean Governor Alden.”
“I’m impressed, Mr. Ryle. The police don’t know that. How, may I ask, do you?”
“Because his head of security, Jeffers, killed two men, and tried to kill me by cutting my brake lines. Why did the Governor do all this, Mr. Krieger?”
“Oh, as you surely learned in school, Mr. Ryle, the love of money is the root of all evil. The Governor needed many millions of dollars to feed his presidential ambitions. In truth, at this point, he has no idea how much he needs so he is trying to accumulate as much as possible.”
“And he went into selling art forgeries.”
“He did.”
“And came to you.”
“Always go for the best.”
“I’ll remember that, Mr. Krieger. But there was trouble.”
“Yes. I detested that part. Umberto grew a conscience. He told me that he was going to the police. The Governor saw his political career in mortal danger. So Umberto was taken care of. It’s simple, Mr. Ryle. The dead don’t talk. That’s a good motto in my business. So Umberto had to go.”
“That I understand in some perverse way, Mr. Krieger. But Bret Roth wasn’t connected to this forgery racket. Why kill him?”
“That was because of you, Mr. Ryle.”
I just stared at him.
“You kept digging and digging about Rabbi Siegel’s death. We wanted to put an end to it.”
“You wanted to frame someone.”
“Sure. And Roth was easy. He had a hot temper. He had threatened the Rabbi. A very good candidate for framing, don’t you think?”
“So Jeffers arranged the frame and killed him.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t yet know why you want me, Mr. Krieger, but anything I do is based on your telling the police that Jeffers killed Roth and that Rebecca Roth is totally innocent.”
He nodded. “Done.”
“But there’s the final puzzle, Mr. Krieger.”
“Indeed there is.”
“Jeffers used a hammer to kill Umberto and Roth. Siegel was killed with a .38. Jeffers told me he hates such weapons.”
“That I couldn’t say. I can tell you that Jeffers did not kill Rabbi Siegel.”
“I would very much like to know who did.”
“I suppose you would, Mr. Ryle. Perhaps a deal might be had.”
“What do you want?”
“Two matters. One relatively easy and one relatively difficult.”
I waited.
“First I will tell you Rabbi Siegel’s killer.”
“All right.”
He told me.
I tried to keep my face frozen.
“Tell me the truth, Mr. Ryle. Did you know that?”
“No,” I said.
“I thought not.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to hold back all of your knowledge about Rabbi Siegel from the police. I had many Jewish customers and friends. I do not want them to learn that I was involved in the killing.”
He cleared his throat.
“Oh, after I plead guilty my lawyer tells me it will be a Jewish judge who will send me for a brief time to a pleasant prison. I wouldn’t want to give him any reason to get upset.”
I shook my head at him.
“You arranged the murder?”
“I did.”
“A simple question, Mr. Krieger. Why?”
He shrugged.
“Because of the artist downstairs. Penny. The Rabbi was a very smart man. He discovered what she was doing. He was betrayed by his sense of ethics. He felt it a moral duty to report her. It’s funny, isn’t it? A good conscience killed Umberto and Rabbi Siegel. We couldn’t allow it. The Governor gave me the task. At that point, at least as I understand it, he hadn’t hired a security person. There was no Jeffers on the job. I, of course, couldn’t be expected to kill the Rabbi myself. I wasn’t sure what to do. I asked around, and the job was done.”
“You’ll be in jail for the other two killings. I can live with that. I’ll take care of the Rabbi’s killer.”
“Very good.”
“You had two matters.”
“I did. When Jeffers escaped from you, he knew he couldn’t go back to the Governor. So he came to one of my associates. I’m afraid my associate fed him some rat poison which he took with cocaine. It was not a good mixture and Jeffers died.”
“You’re trying to get away with a lot of murders, Mr. Krieger.”
“We all make the best deal we can.”
“And what exactly do you want of me?”
“I am, as I said, inexperienced in all these matters. Not to mention under the control of the police. Jeffers is in a cabin I have on Long Island. It’s quite isolated, but unfortunately there is a dead body in the cabin. My associate tried to put lime around the cabin for the smell, but animals, including human animals, being what they are, I expect this body to be discovered. I want you to get rid of the body.”
“You’re asking a lot.”
“I’ve given you incredibly valuable information. I’ve given you Rabbi Siegel’s murderer. I’m sure this information is worth more than what I’ve asked.”
“It’s a deal, Mr. Krieger. I’ll get rid of the body as soon as Rebecca Roth is freed from prison.”
“She’s quite a simple girl, Mr. Ryle. You could do better.”
“I’m not sure I want advice from a man who’s about to go to prison.”
“Fair enough. You may leave now.”
Prisoners, even those wrongly accused, don’t get to leave where they are very quickly. But whoever was in charge must have really wanted Governor Alden.
Rebecca Roth was freed the next morning.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I went over to Choo-Choo Pascal’s house. I interrupted his meal, and he wasn’t pleased.
“What is it, Danny?”
“I need to use your potato farm.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No, sir. This is entirely unconnected to you.”
He nodded.
“I don’t let outsiders use the farm, Danny. You know that.”
“My father said you were dependable at difficult moments, Choo-Choo.”
He pursed his lips.
“You know I owe your father.”
“He has told me that.”
“He ever tell you why?”
“No, sir.”
Another nod.
“I made a mistake. I was starting out. I robbed a poker game. Someone drew on me and I had to kill him. His brother was connected. I was a dead man. A really dead man. Your father reasoned with this connected brother.”
“You mean my father killed him.”
A shrug.
“Reason takes all forms in this complicated life, Danny.”
“Can I use the farm?”
“Only this once. Don’t ask me again. And your dad and me, we’re even. You can tell him that. You understand?”
“Sure.”
“When you want this?”
“Tonight.”
“Don’t get caught.”
“I don’t intend to.”
With that, I drove out east.
Old Man Gifford’s back had recovered. I appreciated that I wouldn’t have to do the digging this time.
I parked where he asked me. The old man and I took out the body and put it in the grave that Gifford had already dug. He began shoveling in dirt over the body.
Every bodily impulse was to flee the potato-farm-turned-graveyard, but I jus
t stood there.
My thoughts turned to my shame. I had never stolen, never cheated. But I noticed especially how I changed when I was in Washington. Once it was snowing heavily. My father called me. He had fallen and needed my help. He had no one else. I called the airlines, and the person at the other end of the line laughed at me. There were no seats, he said, and there wouldn’t be. I was desperate. I went into the Congressman’s office. He was looking out the window at the world of white. I told him I needed to fly back to Long Island. He nodded and made a phone call.
I got on the plane.
On the trip home, I realized I had bumped someone else. Maybe they gave the person money or a free ticket. Maybe not. In either case I had been able to do what ordinary citizens could not. I thought that was how politicians began to think of themselves as above the law. I thought it was dangerous. I knew I needed to get home. But I didn’t want to have to push anyone around in the process.
Then I began to think of other mistakes, the ball games I went to for free and all the rest.
I couldn’t think any more. I picked up a shovel and helped Old Man Gifford. I wanted to finish as fast as possible.
When the job was done, I just stared at the grave.
“You sayin’ a prayer?” Gifford asked.
“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t tell him the prayer was for myself.
I got back on the road and stopped for some doughnuts and coffee. I sat quietly for a long while. It was late now, and there weren’t many customers. The kid behind the counter was reading a book.
The silence was a portal to another world.
I had changed since the last time I had visited the potato farm. I was overwhelmed by my work, by the murders, by my confusion, by a feeling I was mixed-up so badly that the world would never stop spinning.
But how could I get out? There were no jobs for me. I was trapped in an existence I was born into and also which I had made.
I finished the coffee and went out into the brisk night air. I leaned against my car. Almost no cars went by. Stars twinkled. The moon played shy and stayed behind a thick cloud. I still had miles to go. Deal with the killer. See if there was a future with Rebecca Roth. Finish the Congressional race.
It was too much. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to fall down on the ground and cry. I admired people who could get an emotional release with some tears. They wouldn’t fall for me.
The Dead Don't Talk Page 12
