16 Hitman

by Parnell Hall

  "Are you under arrest?" Richard asked.

  "Not really."

  "Call me when you are"

  That left me with Detective Crowley. MacAullif hadn't exaggerated in describing him as a young hotshot. He looked barely old enough to vote. I had to remind myself that just because he's young doesn't mean he isn't dangerous.

  Crowley came into the interrogation room, sat at the table, and smiled. An endearing, boyish smile. You had to look close to see the hard edge. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I understand you can be of some help."

  It was such a cordial greeting it was hard not to reply in kind. "What do you need?"

  "I need your story. I understand you may have had contact with someone who may have had something to do with the death of Mr. Marsden."

  "Your words, not mine."

  He kept the smile on his face, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Excuse me?"

  "I'm not accusing anyone of anything. And I wouldn't want to be put in the position where anyone might get the impression that I had"

  "Do you see a stenographer here? No one's going to quote you. I just want to know what happened."

  "You're not recording this conversation?"

  There was a flick of annoyance before he smiled. "We're just talking. The way I understand it, the victim approached you with the offer of employment."

  "Then you understand incorrectly."

  "That's not the case?"

  "No, it's not."

  "And if Sergeant MacAullif states that he ran the victim's name and came up with a notorious hitman for the mob, and the reason you had him run the name was because you'd been employed by this person and felt uneasy about it, that would be incorrect?"

  "There are a number of points to that statement, but, on the whole, it would be incorrect."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Yeah"

  "All right," Crowley said. "I'd like to speed this along. You haven't been read your rights, and nothing you say can be used in evidence against you."

  "Can it be used in evidence against MacAullif?"

  That shook him for a moment. He recovered, said, "This isn't being taken down."

  "I told MacAullif nothing. We had a few hypothetical conversations."

  "About Victor Marsden?"

  "Is that the decedent?"

  "Don't you know?"

  "I only know what I hear. Which isn't always reliable.You tell me Victor Marsden's dead, I'd be inclined to believe you"

  "Victor Marsden's dead."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I saw the body."

  "How did he die?"

  Crowley frowned. It had to be all he could do not to say, "I'm asking the questions here." He restrained himself, said, "He was shot."

  "Where?"

  "In the bedroom."

  I opened my mouth.

  He grinned like a schoolboy. "Couldn't resist. He was shot in the head. One shot, bam, center of the forehead, dropped like a rock. Killer was a pro, knew exactly what he was doing."

  "When was he killed?"

  Crowley cocked his head. "You need my help in solving this crime?"

  "No, but you can make me feel better"

  "Excuse me?"

  "If anything I did indirectly caused this guy's death, I'd like to know it."

  "So would I. What did you do?"

  "Isn't this where that Miranda warning would come in?"

  "I already know what you did from MacAullif. Only his version is all hypotheticals and guesswork. Be nice to get the straight goods."

  "Why isn't this being taken down?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "No reason. We just like to know what you're going to say before you say it."

  "What did MacAullif tell you?"

  "You had him run two phone numbers. One was an English teacher from Harmon High. The other was a hitman for the mob. No sooner does he run the hitman's record, when the guy gets rubbed out. That alone would be enough to put you on the hook, even if you hadn't been posing as Rollo Tomassi."

  "I can explain that."

  "Feel free."

  "It's from L.A. Confidential."

  "I know the reference. Why did you use it?"

  "I wanted to shake the guy up. I thought if he knew the reference, that would do it"

  "And why did you want to shake the guy up?"

  "So something like this wouldn't happen"

  "What made you think it would?"

  "We're getting into areas here where I might need an attorney."

  "You have the right to an attorney."

  "Was that a Miranda?"

  "Oh, for Christ's sake. This is a conversation."

  "Yeah, only you say later, `I told him he had the right to an attorney.' "

  "You're being awful cagy. Who you trying to protect?"

  "Me."

  "What have you done wrong?"

  "I haven't done a damn thing wrong."

  "Then you got nothing to worry about."

  "Tell it to some guy who's served twenty or thirty years in jail before being cleared by DNA"

  "Let me help you out here. The way I understand it, you were hired by this hitman,Victor Marsden. Last night you observed him in the company of another man who went up to his apartment. You left shortly thereafter. Sometime today, late morning or early afternoon, the gentleman returned and rubbed out the hitman."

  "Without being seen?"

  Crowley was only human. He couldn't hold out any longer. "Why am I the one providing all the information? Yeah, without being seen. Which is why we put it between twelve and one, even before we get the medical report. That's the time the doorman goes to lunch and the janitor fills in. It's summer, the regulars take their vacations, most of these guys are replacement temps. Anyone with the balls to flash 'em a smile and stride right to the elevator as if they live there could go right up. I would expect a hitman to have fairly big balls."

  "Good point."

  "Thank you. Now then. A hitman hired you. Someone killed him. That would seem to terminate the employment. Wouldn't you like to know who did it?"

  I sighed. What a mess. Crowley was going on MacAullif's misinterpretation of the hypotheticals I'd given him. As a result, he had next to nothing right. And I had no way to correct him without sticking my neck in a noose.

  I wondered if it was time to barter for immunity.

  "What about the teacher?" I said.

  "What about him?"

  "Have you checked out the schoolteacher?"

  "Yes, of course. The schoolteacher is a schoolteacher with an unblemished record. Why you chose him as a red herring is your business. I'm sure you had a reason. Not that I care."

  "You might want to give him a second look."

  I don't know why I said that. I suppose it was vindictive. I was pissed off at being deceived, and couldn't bear to see Kessler get away scot-free. While that was certainly true, it wasn't good enough. I could secretly want that to happen, but that was a far cry from making it happen. From giving up my client. From telling on the guy. It really went against the grain.

  And yet I'd done it.

  It was like a knife in the gut to realize why.

  Crowley wasn't that much older than my son, Tommie. I was feeling paternal toward the boy.

  Not that he seemed inclined to accept my help." I think we can rule the schoolteacher out."

  I gawked. "Rule him out?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  "Let me be sure I understand this.You're not taking the teacher seriously because he has no record?"

  "And because he has an alibi. He was teaching school when the hit went down. Makes it hard to consider him a serious candidate."

  "Has the doorman had a look at him?"

  "Why?"

  "To see if he was the guy who was with the decedent last night."

  Crowley's eyes narrowed. "Why are you pushing this?"

  "I'm not pushing it. I'm just trying to see how you conduct your investigation"

  "Well, you be sure and let me know if I'm doin
g okay," Crowley said ironically.

  "You're not even close," I told him. "You're pushing your own agenda, you're asking questions and not paying attention to the answers, and you're ignoring useful information if it doesn't fit with your own, preconceived notion of the crime. Aside from that, you're doing great."

  Crowley had had enough. He frowned, regarded me as if I were something to be scraped off his shoe.

  "Okay, let's do it the hard way."

  17

  THE STENOGRAPHER WAS SLOW. I've never had a slow one before. Usually, speed is one of the abilities they're hired for. This woman, who couldn't have weighed more than a broom straw, attempted to make up for it with an irritatingly ponderous manner. Her notes were scrawled in a meaty hand. She asked for repetitions in a booming voice. She scowled more frown lines than face. I got the impression the cops would have fired her if they weren't afraid of her.

  "What was the charge again?" she demanded.

  "Obstruction of justice"

  "You're accusing me of obstruction of justice?" I said.

  "I'm not accusing you of obstruction of justice"

  "Could you stop saying obstruction of justice," the stenographer complained.

  "Abbreviate it."

  "Huh?"

  "You'll get her confused with the Simpson trial," I suggested.

  Crowley took a ten-minute break, came back with a stenographer who could write. I'm sure the other one wasn't fired. Probably promoted.

  "All right," Crowley said. "Investigation into the death ofVictor Marsden. Interrogation of the witness, Stanley Hastings. He has been read his rights and declined to have a lawyer present."

  "I didn't decline to have a lawyer present. I called my lawyer, he didn't want to come."

  "So you're waiving your right to an attorney?"

  "I'm not waiving anything. I have the right to an attorney at any time in this proceedings. If you ask nie a question I don't like, I'm going to get one."

  "With regard to the decedent, Victor Marsden, of East Eightyninth Street, have you ever been to that address?"

  "Let me clear about this. I've never been to Victor Marsden's apartment. I've been to that apartment building. I was there last night."

  "What were you doing there?"

  "I observed the decedent in the company of another nian go up in the elevator. I approached the doorman, said I recognized the tenant, wasn't he so-and-so"

  "Wasn't he who?"

  "I don't remember what name I gave him. It wasn't important. I made it up."

  "Why?"

  "To get the name of the tenant."

  "Did it work?"

  "Yes. The doorman said, no, that's not him, that's Victor Marsden"

  "And what did that tell you?"

  "The doorman wasn't very bright."

  "What did you do then?"

  "I asked him to call upstairs, see if the guy with him was so-andso." I saw no need to point out I hadn't thought to do that until the doorman suggested it. Particularly after impugning his intellect. "He did so?"

  "Yes."

  "What name did you give?"

  We went through the whole Rollo Tomassi thing again. Thank god the first stenographer wasn't there. It would have taken longer than the movie.

  "And why did you do that?" Detective Crowley asked.

  "Here you are inquiring about things which have no bearing on the case, but which, if construed injudiciously, might tend to cast my actions in an unfavorable light. I therefore refuse to answer."

  "You're not a lawyer."

  "You won't let me have a lawyer."

  "I will let you have a lawyer."

  "My lawyer won't let me have a lawyer."

  Crowley rubbed his brow. "MacAullif said you'd give me a headache."

  "I'm not giving you anything. I'm trying to help you without forfeiting my rights"

  "How do you intend to do that?"

  "Well, just a hint, ask for facts, not motivations. Ask me what I did, not my state of mind."

  "Okay. Did you accept employment from Victor Marsden?"

  "No ,>

  "No?"

  "No."

  "MacAullif says you did"

  "I am not responsible for what MacAullif says."

  "Are you saying MacAullif is wrong?"

  "I'm saying MacAullif has no foundation to make such a statement. I'm sure I never made such a statement to him."

  "Why would he lie?"

  Oops.

  "Hang on here. I'm not saying he lied. It's entirely possible he was mistaken."

  "How could he be mistaken?"

  "You're now asking me for MacAullif's state of mind?"

  "You're the one who said he might be mistaken."

  "I meant it's possible he made an honest error."

  "How do you know it's honest?"

  "What?"

  "Never mind. How do you know it's an error?"

  "How do I know anything? You asked me if I was employed by the decedent, Victor Marsden. The answer is no. I don't know the decedent, Victor Marsden. I never met the decedent, Victor Marsden. I had nothing to do with the decedent,Victor Marsden. Anyone who says I did is in error. And that includes MacAullif. MacAullif's an honest cop, so it would be an honest error."

  "You blame MacAullif for the situation?"

  "I don't blame MacAullif."

  "You say he falsely accused you."

  "He didn't accuse me of anything"

  "Really? He says you were involved with the dead man."

  "That's not an accusation"

  "Just a simple statement of fact?"

  "Just a simple misassumption. As a result of having jumped to a conclusion. Without sufficient evidence to back it up"

  "That sounds like bad police work. Are you saying MacAullif's a bad cop?"

  No.

  "Are you saying this was good police work?"

  I sighed. "And you say I'm giving you a headache."

  "You deny you work for Victor Marsden?"

  "That's right."

  "Who do you work for?"

  "Richard Rosenberg."

  "Who?"

  "Richard Rosenberg, of Rosenberg and Stone. He's the negligence lawyer I work for."

  "That's not what I mean and you know it. Who do you work for in this case?"

  "I don't work for anyone in this case."

  "What?"

  "My job is over."

  "What was your job?"

  "Keeping Victor Marsden alive."

  "You were hired to keep a hitman alive?"

  "Ironic, isn't it?"

  "Who hired you?"

  "I don't think I can answer that."

  "I'm not playing games here. There's a been a murder.You talk, or I'll charge you with obstruction of justice."

  The stenographer never blinked an eye.

  "At which point I would have the right to an attorney."

  "Except your attorney doesn't want to represent you. Can't say that I blame him."

  I said nothing, sat, waited for Crowley to reload.

  He did. "Where were you between twelve and one?"

  "Oh, please."

  "Where were you between twelve and one?"

  "I can't remember."

  "You can't remember where you were between twelve and one?"

  "I can tell you where I wasn't between twelve and one."

  "Where is that?"

  "East Eighty-ninth Street. I wasn't anywhere near East Eightyninth Street."

  Crowley's eyes narrowed. "You think you may be accused of the crime?"

  "No, I don't."

  "Yet you go out of you way to deny it."

  "Give me a break. You asked me where I was at the time of the murder. I told you I was nowhere near the scene. Does that imply guilty knowledge on my part? No, it implies dumb suspicion on yours.

  "You're getting worked up."

  "It's somewhat frustrating answering stupid questions that have nothing do with the investigation."

  "Oh, I assure you my questi
ons have something to do with the investigation. They may not jibe with your theory, but then you're not in charge. To go back to the question you've been evading, where were you between twelve and one?"

  "I don't know."

  "You don't know?"

  "No. It's been a busy day. I've been in Brooklyn and Queens. I stopped in at the office. I stopped in to see Sergeant MacAullif."

  "What time was that?"

  "What?"

  "When you saw MacAullif?"

  "I don't know."

  "Was it between twelve and one? It was after, wasn't it?"

  "I don't know."

  "How do you get paid?"

  The change of subject threw me. "What?"

  "The law firm you work for. How do they pay you? By the job?"

  "By the hour."

  "Does that include travel time?"

  "Of course"

  "Let's see your time sheet."

  I hesitated.

  "I could get a subpoena duces tecum, force you to produce it."

  "That would be pretty stupid, don't you think?"

  Crowley had a great deal of poise for a youngster. He didn't get niad. He merely waited patiently. Which was harder to deal with than some aggressive prick trying to break me down.

  I popped open my briefcase, produced my time sheets.

  "Okay," Crowley said. "The case in Brooklyn you put down for two hours. Ditto the one in Queens. If you start at nine, that would take you to one. You had a meeting at the lawyer's, and a meeting with MacAullif. Which came first?"

  "The lawyer."

  "And that was after you did the cases?"

  "That's right."

  "Well, say those two cases took you nine to one. Two hours each is an estimate, and probably a generous one. If each case was actually an hour and a half, that would leave you an extra hour. For whatever mischief you might be up to."

  "Geez, it's bad enough being accused of a crime without you messing with my time sheets."

  "Here's the thing. Say you knock off Brooklyn-Queens in three hours, not four. Well, that leaves you an hour to get into trouble. If you did, I imagine you'd contact your lawyer. If, as you say, he wants nothing to do with it, you might want to contact your police buddy. Only cops don't condone murder. Even when it's a friend."

  "Your theory is that on my lunch hour, which I stole from my boss by manipulating my time sheets, I murdered a mob hitman. Then I ran and told my lawyer, who wanted nothing to do with me, so I went and told a cop, who turned me in. Is that what you think I did?"