“I’m gonna fire his ass, he don’t learn to keep his hands to himself.”
Marty usually wore tight jeans to work, making him a hit with some of the women we were pulling in now that we were moving up. Idly, I wondered if he and Geneva were . . .
“Who says you can hire and fire?”
“I hired him, didn’t I?”
She got me again.
“Do me a favor,” I said. “Don’t fire him, we need him.”
“I’ll break his arms, then.”
“One arm,” I said, “so he can still work.”
“You know what’s wrong with you, Boss?”
“What?”
“You let your employees walk all over you.”
“I don’t—”
“Now get out from behind the bar, boy, you in my way.”
I got.
6
Heck’s office was on Fifth Avenue, at Twenty-third Street. This part of Fifth Avenue doesn’t have as many flashy steel and glass high-rises as there are uptown. I often wondered why he didn’t move to a new building. I knew that he was fairly successful at what he did and could afford it. As I got into the small, rickety elevator I thought again about my own recent move. Joining Walker Blue in partnership was probably the most serious attempt I’d ever made to try to improve my life and my lifestyle. Still, Walker and I did things differently. What if we didn’t get along?
I stepped out of the elevator into a small entry foyer and followed an arrow with a sign to a door that said Hector Delgado, attorney-at-law. I opened the door and entered, and Missy looked up from her desk and smiled.
Missy had worked for Eddie Waters for a few years, and I knew for a fact that she and Eddie had had a relationship. He was older than she, and it never got anywhere near being permanent. Still, she had been devastated by his death, and it had been months later when she’d accepted Heck’s offer of a job. I had tried to keep Eddie’s business going, but eventually had to give up the office.
“Miles, hi! Coffee?”
I walked to the desk and gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek. We had never been in a situation where I could take a run at Missy, so I settled for a brother/sister type of relationship—well, maybe kissin’ cousins, with some idle lust thrown in.
She looked good today, wearing a simple black dress with a pink linen jacket over it. She had a thick gold rope around her neck that hung too high to be a chain and too low to be a choker.
“Sounds good. Is he in?”
She handed me a mug that said try it, i might like it and said, “Take your coffee and go right in. He’s with a client.”
I took the coffee from her—black, no sugar—and walked to Heck’s door. I knocked once and then opened the door and stepped inside.
“Miles, good, I’m glad you’re here.”
“It’s three o’clock,” I said, “where else would I be?”
The other man was sitting in a chair in front of Heck’s desk. He did not turn around to look at me. There was an empty chair next to him.
“I want you to meet someone.” Hector Domingo Gonzales Delgado remained seated and beckoned with a wave for me to come closer.
Heck was every girl’s wet dream of what a successful attorney should look like. He was tall, in his mid-thirties, and usually wore a three-piece suit that fit perfectly because he kept athletically trim with constant workouts. He had a Ricardo Montalban accent that thickened slightly when he became agitated.
Lately, however, he had taken to dressing more casually when he wasn’t scheduled to go to court. Today he had on a short-sleeved green shirt with not quite red stripes—actually, it wasn’t quite green, either. Jade and . . . what? I’d ask Missy on the way out, if I was still interested. Anyway, he was wearing lightweight khaki Levi’s with it, and if he tossed a jacket on over it all he’d still look fairly businesslike . . . for spring.
“This is Truman Tyler, Miles. Truman, Miles Jacoby, the detective I was telling you about.”
“Investigator,” I said. “Detective” is a police rank in New York City.
“Ah, yes,” Heck said.
I walked around to where I could see Tyler better He hadn’t made a good impression on me by not moving when I’d entered the room. Now he looked up and managed to look down his nose while he was at it. Even seated I could see that he was six feet. He appeared to be in his early forties, with Dustin Hoffman’s jaw and nose and a hairline that was both receding and turning gray. I wondered which would win. His suit was nowhere near Heck’s standards, and even made me feel overdressed in the sports jacket I’d bought from a little Village men’s shop.
“Mr. Tyler.”
“Have a seat, Miles,” Heck said.
“That’s okay.”
I wanted to be standing, watching Tyler’s face, not sitting next to him. He made me uncomfortable, like I had an army of ants underneath my clothes, and I didn’t know why.
“All right,” Heck said, sitting back and eyeing me for a moment. “Mr. Tyler called me earlier today and asked to meet with me. He also asked that I try to have you here.”
“Why me?” I directed my question to Tyler, not Heck.
“I have a client who is in the Tombs right now,” Tyler said. “He has been arrested for murder and is awaiting arraignment.”
I sipped my coffee and waited.
“He says he knows both of you.”
“Does this client have a name?”
Tyler nodded. “Danny Pesce.”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. They called him ‘Danny the Fish’?”
Tyler frowned and said, “That’s right.”
“And why would Danny the Fish send you to see me and Heck?”
“Because his alibi is somebody you know very well. We’d like you to try and find him.”
“Somebody I know? Who?”
I looked at Tyler, then at Heck, then back to Tyler
“A man named Raymond Carbone.”
“Ray?” I looked at Heck. He knew Ray Carbone because he’d met him through me. Like myself, Ray was an ex-fighter; but while I had gone legit with a P.I. license, Ray did some strong-arm work, some bodyguard work, and some occasional work for me.
“What’s Ray got to do with your client?”
“Like I said, my client claims that Mr. Carbone can alibi him for the time of the murder.”
“Then why don’t you ask him?”
“I went to Mr. Carbone’s residence, but he wasn’t there. I asked his neighbors where he was, but they haven’t seen him in days.”
“So you think Ray ran out? He wouldn’t do that.”
“I am not saying he did,” Tyler said, “I just want you to find him.”
I looked at Heck.
“What’s your part in this?”
“Apparently,” Heck said, “Mr. Pesce would like me to defend him.”
“I thought you were his lawyer?” I said, looking at Tyler
“Yes, well, I have been his attorney for some, uh, lesser offenses, but since this is a murder charge, Mr. Pesce asked me to approach Mr. Delgado.”
I looked at Heck.
“When I heard that they were looking for Ray Carbone, I figured you’d want in.”
“Working for you?”
“Naturally.”
I hesitated a moment, then turned to face Heck fully.
“Why don’t we let Mr. Tyler get on with his day and you and I can discuss this?”
“Mr. Tyler,” Heck said, after just the slightest hesitation, “I will get back to you later today.”
Tyler looked from Heck to me, then back to Heck, probably wondering who was calling the shots.
“Well,” he said finally, standing up, “I’ll wait for your call.” He was looking at Heck when he said it. Heck was looking at me expectantly.
7
I waited until Tyler had left the office and then sat in the chair next to the one he’d vacated. I reached for Heck’s phone and dialed Ray Carbone’s home number. After it had rung ten times
I hung up. There was one other number I had for Ray. I tried it, with the same result.
“Carbone?”
I nodded. “No answer. Heck, what’s your take on this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why does this guy Pesce want you?”
Heck shrugged and said, “Because I’m good.”
“What do you know about Tyler?”
“I’ve seen him around the courthouse,” Heck said. “His clients are less than desirable. Let me ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“Would Ray Carbone be involved with someone like Danny Pesce?”
“I don’t know that I can answer that, since I don’t know what type of person Danny Pesce is.”
Heck gave me a couple of raised eyebrows and said, “Danny the Fish?”
“Okay, Ray’s in with some made guys. He works both sides of the fence.”
“So he could be involved in a murder?”
“Anybody could be involved in a murder, but Tyler didn’t say he was involved. He said he could alibi his client.”
“And maybe he can.”
“Are you taking this case?”
“I’m going to the Tombs tomorrow to talk with Mr. Pesce. Do you want to come?”
I thought it over, then shook my head.
“No, I’ll leave it to you to talk to the guy. I’ll get started on trying to find Ray. Whether you take the case or not, I want to find out if anything’s happened to him.”
“If I take the case,” Heck said, “you’ll be on the clock.”
“Naturally.”
“Will this be your case alone,” he asked, “or yours and Walker’s?”
“What do you know about me and Walker?”
“I know he called me to see if I thought you’d be interested in a partnership.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that I’d be honored if you would come in with me.”
“Partners with you?”
Heck cleared his throat. “I’m not asking, mind you. I, uh, like working alone.”
“I do too,” I said, “it’s just getting harder and harder to afford.”
“So?”
“So am I going partners with Walker?”
“Yes.”
“I am.”
Heck smiled, and I could just imagine rows of women swooning. “Congratulations. I think it’s a good move, for both of you.”
“Did you know about Walker’s heart?”
“I had heard something, but I never asked. I thought if he wanted me to know he would have called.”
“It’s funny.”
“What is?”
“I haven’t had a case in weeks, and now that I’ve agreed to go partners with Walker I got two today.”
“Two?”
I told him briefly about Stan Waldrop.
“And who referred him?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Any ideas?”
“None,” I said, “but maybe I’ll find out later, after I tell him I’ll take his case.”
“And are you taking it?”
“I guess so. Maybe I need just one last solo fling.”
Heck laughed. “It is an odd pairing, isn’t it?”
I thought about pretending to be insulted, but instead I said, “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Heck shuffled some papers on his desk. Time to get back to business.
“I’ll call Mr. Tyler tonight and tell him that you are at least putting in some hours today looking for Ray Carbone, pending what happens when I interview Mr. Pesce.”
“When are you seeing him?”
“Nine A.M. tomorrow.”
“I’ll call here at noon and check in with you.”
“Fine. I’ll probably be having lunch at my desk. It is fast becoming a way of life.”
I left his office and stopped by Missy’s on the way out.
“I heard about you and Walker, Miles. Have you agreed?”
“I have.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said, putting her hand on my arm and squeezing. “Eddie would be pleased. He always had the highest regard for Walker Blue.”
It was odd, but her words about Eddie filled me with a warmth I wasn’t prepared for
“Heck’s looking sharp these days. Are you getting him to dress more casually?”
“I admit it’s my influence,” she said, blushing slightly.
“That’s a great shirt he’s wearing—what is it, green and what?”
“Jade and fuchsia.”
“Fuchsia?”
She nodded.
“I could make some suggestions for you too, Miles.”
“What’s wrong with the way I dress?”
“You’re not a boxer anymore. Also, if you’re going to be partners with Walker Blue . . .”
“I’ll see you soon, Missy.”
“I’ll make some notes—” she was shouting as I ran out the door
8
Ray Carbone lived in an apartment building in Alphabet City. He could probably have afforded better, but Ray was the kind of guy who felt more comfortable living in a dangerous environment. Of course, no neighborhood seems as dangerous to its residents as it does to outsiders.
Ray’s apartment was on Thirteenth Street between Avenues A and B. The building was an old five-story brownstone, and Ray had one of the two fifth-floor apartments. I tried his doorbell in front, and when there was no answer I decided to try his back door.
Well, not a back door; but he did have a fire escape that he sometimes used as an emergency entrance. Or exit. I had to stand on a garbage can to reach the ladder and pull it down.
Going up the fire escape past four other apartments, it’s kind of hard not to sneak a peek. Two of them seemed empty. On the second floor a man was sitting in a chair with a can of beer, probably watching a television.
On the fourth floor, just below Ray’s place, a man and a woman were on a bed and they weren’t sleeping. I stared a few seconds longer than I had to and then went up to the next level feeling embarrassed. If I wanted to see that sort of thing I could rent a skin flick.
When I reached Ray’s window I tried it and found it locked. I peered inside. The bed was unmade, and on the nightstand were two beer cans. I knew Ray had installed an unseen catch somewhere on top of the window, which would enable him to spring the lock from the outside. If a would-be burglar didn’t know it was there, he’d have a hard time getting the window open, as Ray had installed a magnetic lock system.
I felt around on top of the window but couldn’t find anything. Next I tried the window frame and felt something. It wasn’t a catch, or a button. It felt like a piece of metal. I ran my hand up the other side and there was another one.
I looked through my pockets for something metal and came up with my key ring. I picked the thickest key and took it off the ring, then held it against one of the pieces of metal. It must have broken some kind of magnetic seal, because I heard a snap as the lock clicked. I put my keys away, tried the window and found it unlocked. I opened it as quietly as I could. I crawled inside, closing the window behind me.
Once in I was hit with the musty smell apartments get when they’ve been closed up for days. A quick search of the three rooms established that Ray hadn’t been here for a while. There were dishes in the sink and take-out cartons on the counter. I looked through the garbage and came out with two delivery receipts, one for pizza and one for Chinese. Both had dates on them. One was from four days before, and the other three.
I looked in the refrigerator and found three cans of beer, a container of orange juice that was just about empty, and a spoiled container of milk. In the freezer were half a dozen frozen dinners and a half-filled container of Rocky Road ice cream. I didn’t know Ray had a sweet tooth, but then we really didn’t hang out together much.
In the living room there were some Ring magazines scattered about, and a couple of other sports magazines. The Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue was on
the sofa, facedown and open. I picked it up and looked at it. Kathy Ireland was looking as good as ever. I went through the room quickly, and then did the same with the bedroom. I didn’t know what I was looking for, and I didn’t find anything.
I left the bathroom for last, just on the off chance that Ray was in the tub. He wasn’t.
I went back to the living room and sat down next to his phone. He had an answering machine, and a blinking red light indicated that there were six messages.
The first and third messages were from Truman Tyler, saying that he really needed to speak to Ray as soon as possible.
The second message was from Ray’s girl, Joy, just an “I-miss-you-call-me-honey” type of message.
The fourth message was a hang-up.
The fifth message was the one I found most interesting. Nobody spoke after the beep, but there were two distinct beeps following the one meant to record after. They were the kind of beeps I hear on mine when I’ve checked messages from outside. That meant that Ray was alive enough, maybe within the past day, to have checked his messages.
It wasn’t until then that I realized I was afraid he was dead.
The sixth message was from a bill collector. Apparently Ray was behind on his Visa payments.
Once I’d listened to the messages, the light stopped blinking. I knew if I pressed the “save” button, the light would start blinking again. If Ray came home and saw that, he’d never know someone had listened. I was afraid Ray wasn’t coming home soon, though, so I wasn’t worried. In fact, as a last thought I took the tape out of the machine and put it in my pocket.
Satisfied that I’d given the apartment a thorough enough going-over, I left by the front door; it would lock behind me. Maybe the window would have locked behind me, but I wanted to talk to some of the other tenants before I left the building. I was hoping someone had seen Ray in the past day or two. It occurred to me then that I knew when Danny Pesce had been arrested, but I didn’t know when he was supposed to have committed the murder. I was going to have to get that information from Heck if I was going to talk to Ray about it.
When I found him.
Stand-up Page 3
