Fresh Disasters

by Stuart Woods

The elevator seemed to take forever.

  “I don’t like the noises I’m hearing,” Pointer said. There were grunting sounds coming from their equipment. “And I don’t hear Willa at all.”

  The elevator finally came, and the other three cops boarded it. As they passed the third floor they could hear Bernstein’s feet pounding on the steel stairs. He reached the fourth floor just as they did and was banging on the steel fire door.

  Somebody let him in, and the five cops ran through the apartment to the curving staircase and, with Pointer in the lead, ran up the last flight.

  As Pointer reached the top of the stairs she could see across the living room to the bar. Willa was on the floor, naked, and Daltry was behind and on top of her, oblivious to the five cops rushing across the room. Pointer got there first, and swung her gun at his head. There was a flash of blood, and Daltry fell sideways, clutching at his scalp and screaming. The four men fell on him.

  Pointer shucked off her raincoat, went to Willa and covered her. “Oh, Willa, baby,” she crooned, stroking her hair. “What did that bastard do to you?” She turned back toward the cops. “Don’t kill him, for Christ’s sake! Get on the horn and get an ambulance down here, and tell them to send a fucking doctor, not just an EMT. Willa is unconscious!”

  Back at Elaine’s, Dino answered his cell phone again. “What?”

  Bernstein was breathing hard. “He’s hurt Willa,” he shouted into the phone. “We got him, but he’s hurt her.”

  “Have you called for an ambulance?”

  “Yeah, it’s on the way. We’ll probably end up at Bellevue; I’ll call you.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” Dino said. He snapped the phone shut and turned to Stone. “You take care of the ladies,” he said. “I’ll call you when I know more.” His cell phone rang again, and he flipped it open. “Bacchetti.” He listened for a moment. “Great! Get him into the city pronto. I’m going to Bellevue, and when I know what’s going on there, I’ll come back to the precinct.” He snapped the phone shut again. “The state cops have arrested one Jerome Daltry at Devlin Daltry’s house in Sneden’s Landing on a parole violation. They’re bringing him down here. I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” Dino ran for his car.

  Willa Bernstein slowly came to in a dimly lit room. Somebody was holding her hand.

  “Willa? It’s Shelly, baby, can you hear me?”

  Willa nodded. “My head hurts,” she said. “And that’s not all. What happened?”

  “Don’t you worry, baby, we got Daltry; everything’s going to be all right.”

  “What happened to me?” Willa asked. “We were fighting; that’s all I remember.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Shelly said. “You just get some rest.”

  Willa’s voice got stronger. “Goddammit, Shelly, tell me what happened!”

  Shelly took a deep breath. “He raped you, honey. He knocked you unconscious, and then he raped you.”

  Willa involuntarily moved her hand to her crotch.

  “Not there, Willa.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “You’re all right. The doctor already checked you out, and you’re all right. You just be quiet now.”

  “I want some aspirin,” Willa said. “I have a hell of a headache, and my eyes are burning, too.”

  Shelly reached over and pressed the bedside buzzer. A moment later, a nurse appeared. “She has a headache,” Shelly said to the woman. “Get her something, will you?”

  “He sprayed me with something, mace or pepper spray; I need my eyes flushed out.”

  “I’ll see to it,” the nurse said, then disappeared. She was back in a moment with two Tylenol, some eye solution and a syringe. In another moment she was dabbing the excess away with a tissue.

  “That’s better,” Willa said. “Crank the bed up a little, will you?”

  Shelly grabbed the bed control and sat her up. “The guys are all outside. So’s Bacchetti. They’re beside themselves. Can I bring them in?”

  “Sure, go ahead, but let’s not discuss my…condition with them, all right?”

  Shelly nodded. “I’ll get them.”

  Bernstein led the way into the room. He took Willa’s hand. “I’m sorry it took us so long to get in,” he said to her. “The place was a fortress.”

  “Where’s Daltry?”

  “He’s downstairs being treated for his injuries. We’ll run him uptown when they’re done with him.”

  “What injuries?”

  Bernstein glanced at his lieutenant. “Well, before you passed out, you must have gotten in a few good punches.”

  Willa managed a chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll bet I beat the shit out of him.”

  Dino spoke up. “Whatever he got, he deserved. Listen, kiddo, that phone number you got us paid off. It was for Daltry’s country house in Sneden’s Landing, up the Hudson, and we found his younger brother there, freshly paroled from Attica, after doing seven years for a collection of violent crimes. They’re bringing him down to the precinct, so now that I know you’re okay, I’m going to go up there and interrogate him myself.”

  “You think he did the girl in New Jersey?” she asked.

  “I’d bet on it,” Dino replied. “We’ll collect some DNA from him, then get the Jersey cops on it. With a little luck we’ll put them both away forever. At the very least we’ve got Daltry on the two rapes.”

  Dino looked immediately annoyed with himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  “There was another rape?”

  “A nurse at a hospital uptown named Genevieve James. Nice girl; she’ll testify.”

  “I want him for the murder,” Willa said.

  “Don’t worry about it. Leave it to me.”

  “Done. Now can I get some sleep, guys? And thanks for rescuing me.”

  The men filed out of the room.

  “You want me to stay, baby?” Shelly asked. “I’ll stay all night, if you want.”

  “Just until I fall asleep,” Willa said.

  She didn’t take long.

  56

  Stone was awoken from a sound sleep by the ringing of the phone. He tried to move but seemed to be pinned in place. He opened his eyes to a close-up of Eliza Larkin that was very close up, since they were wrapped around each other.

  He freed an arm and reached for the phone. “Yeah?” he croaked.

  “Rise and shine, pal,” Dino said. “It’s five-thirty in the morning. Greet the new day!”

  “You sound alarmingly happy for this time of day,” Stone said. “Why are you up?”

  “I never went to bed,” Dino said. “Never needed to. I never had so much fun in my life!”

  “How did you spend your night, Dino?”

  “Questioning Jerome Daltry,” Dino said. “Charley Sample brought a D.A. over here from Jersey, and he did a deal with little Jerry, who, I might add, is a straight-out, honest-to-God psychopath.”

  “What’s the deal?”

  “Jerome gets twenty to life in a New Jersey joint for the criminally insane, and, in return, he confessed to running you down with the car and killing Celia. We got it all on videotape, and we got it in writing, too-signed, sealed and delivered! He even told us he delivered Celia’s head to Devlin, put it right in his hands! Can you imagine how that’s going to play in court?”

  “What did Devlin have to say for himself?”

  “Oh, he was having a little trouble talking, what with his broken jaw and all, but he did manage to speak the word lawyer a number of times. Doesn’t matter, though, we’ve got him sewed up for Celia’s murder and for the two rapes, too!”

  “There was somebody besides Genevieve?”

  “Yeah, he got over on my detective before the cavalry could get there. Couldn’t be helped. She’s taking it like a champ, though, and she’ll be great in court. So will Genevieve, come to that. She’s pissed off enough to kill him, if we’d let her.”

  “You did have a good night, didn’t you?”

  “Sometimes I just love this job
!” Dino crowed. “I’m going home and get some sleep. We’ll talk later.” He hung up.

  Stone put the phone down and turned back to Eliza, who was wide awake. “That was Dino; he…”

  “I could hear him shouting,” she said. “I got it all. He’s right about Genevieve; when she gets her day in court she’ll nail the guy.”

  Stone kissed her. “You’re very nice to wake up to,” he said.

  She shortened the distance between them. “You, too,” she said. She ran her hand down his belly. “I sense that something is going on down there.”

  “You’re a perceptive woman,” Stone said, rolling her over on top of him.

  “I’ll think of something to do with it,” she said, kissing him again and slipping him inside her. “It’s my day off, too, so we’re going to be here for a while.”

  The phone rang again. “Fuck it,” Stone said.

  “It’s probably more good news,” Eliza said. “I can wait another few seconds.”

  Stone grabbed the phone. “What?”

  “Well, don’t bite my head off,” Herbie said.

  “Jesus, Herbie, do you know what time it is?”

  “I’ve got five-forty. You really ought to invest in a watch, Stone.”

  “What do you want, Herbie?”

  “I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking your advice,” Herbie said. “I took a cab to Jersey, and I’m on a bus, headed south.”

  “Great news, Herbie. Good-bye and good luck.”

  “Oh, will you tell Uncle Bob good-bye for me?”

  “Sure, I will. Good-bye.”

  “And say good-bye to that nice D.A., too. You know, if I’d been able to hang around, I would have taken a shot at that. She’s cute!”

  “I’ll tell her you said so, Herbie; I’m sure she’ll be devastated to lose the chance. Good-bye.”

  “Hey, you think she’ll really be devastated? Maybe I’ll hang around and…”

  “Good-bye, Herbie,” Stone said and hung up. He turned back to Eliza. “That was Herbie.”

  “I heard. Do you think you’ve seen the last of him?”

  “Dear God, I hope so,” Stone said, turning his full attention to her again.

  “You know, you went down a bit when you were talking to Herbie, but now…”

  Stone made a little thrust.

  “You’re back,” she said, helping him.

  57

  Herbie got off the subway downtown and began looking for a place to have breakfast. He passed a newsstand and picked up a Daily News. He reflected that he was going to have to start reading the Times, now that he was a lawyer. It looked better.

  He found an early-opening restaurant and ordered eggs, bacon and pancakes. He had lost weight in that lousy hotel, and now he was going to gain it back. He ate slowly and turned to the paper. There was a front-page story: Carmine Dattila released from jail. That pissed him off all over again. He checked his watch frequently; he didn’t want to be too early.

  At nine o’clock he paid for his breakfast and took a walk. He found a street vendor selling cheap raincoats, and he bought one, along with a rain hat and some sunglasses. It did look like rain after all, and he could use a disguise of sorts. Dattila’s people were still out there, looking for him.

  He walked slowly downtown, window-shopping and looking at the career girls on their way to work. He was going to specialize in career girls after he got his law office open. He stopped and looked for a long time in the window of an expensive men’s store. He was going to buy good suits like that and get a better haircut, too. Also shoes. Alot of men who were trying to look good stinted on the shoes. He hated cheap shoes; they made the whole outfit look cheap.

  He continued downtown, checking his watch from time to time. Just after ten would be perfect, he reckoned, and this had been confirmed by what he had read in the paper.

  He reached Mott Street and increased his pace a bit. He turned and walked quickly down to where he could see the sign for the La Boheme coffeehouse. A black Cadillac sedan sat at the curb, its engine idling.

  He had it all worked out; he knew exactly what to do, from start to finish. He opened the door to the coffeehouse and walked quickly in; the door closed itself behind him. He kept walking at the same pace, not hurrying, heading for the table at the rear. He walked straight up to it, raised his hand and fired two shots at Carmine Dattila’s head, then he spun around, waving the cop’s pistol he had borrowed at people who were half out of their chairs. He was surprised not to see any weapons; he had half expected to be shot himself. He went quickly to the door and backed out into the street, still holding the gun out before him.

  Half a dozen men fell on him from different directions. He dropped the gun and offered no resistance. A moment later he was handcuffed and in the back of a police car. “Hey, where did you guys come from?” he asked the driver.

  “We’re all over town, pal,” the driver replied.

  Stone lay on his back, breathing deeply, emptied of the ability to do anything about his desire for Eliza Larkin. She sat up in bed, naked, eating a piece of toast from a tray and reading the newspaper.

  “How many times was that?” Stone asked.

  “I don’t know exactly,” she replied, “but you will astonish me if you have anything left.”

  “But you do?”

  “I don’t have to get an erection,” she explained. “And I’m in pretty good shape, so I expect I could go all morning, if you have any interest.”

  “Interest, yes; strength, no.”

  “Interest is good,” she said, patting his belly.

  Joan’s voice came from the intercom. “Assistant District Attorney Monahan is on line one,” she said, articulating the title carefully. Good Joan.

  Stone held a finger to his lips for Eliza to see, and she nodded. He picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Stone,” Dierdre said, “I hardly know what to say to you. I would have thought, just thought, that you would have been able to keep Herbert Fisher out of trouble, after his close call at the hotel.”

  “Herbie is on a bus to Florida,” Stone replied, careful not to use her name. “He called me from the road early this morning.”

  “Maybe from the road,” Dierdre said, “but not the road to Florida. Try the road to Little Italy.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “You should be hearing from Herbie again soon,” she said, “when it finally dawns on him that he needs a lawyer.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” Stone said. “What was Herbie doing in Little Italy?”

  “Killing Carmine Dattila.”

  “What?” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “At ten minutes past ten this morning, Herbie walked into the La Boheme coffeehouse and shot Dattila the Hun twice in the head, and actually got out of the place alive, because half an hour before, the police had gone in there and arrested everybody who had a gun. We still had a whole bunch of people hanging around the block in plain clothes, and they managed to disarm and handcuff Herbie before he could hurt himself.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In the lockup downstairs. Frankly, we’re a little undecided as to what to do with him: charge him with first-degree murder or give him a medal for his service to the community. Could you get your ass down here as quickly as possible, please?”

  “I’ll be there in an hour,” Stone said. He hung up.

  “I couldn’t hear that one,” Eliza said. “I guess nobody was shouting.”

  “It’s just as well; you wouldn’t have believed it. I certainly don’t.”

  An hour and ten minutes later Stone presented himself at the district attorney’s office and was ushered into a conference room where Dierdre Monahan and the chief deputy D.A. were already seated. Simultaneously, Herbie was brought in through another door, wearing shackles, his hands cuffed to a chain around his waist.

  “Hey, Stone,” he said. “I…”

  “Shut up, Herbie, an
d don’t say another word, or I’ll borrow a gun and shoot you.”

  “I’ll loan you a gun,” Dierdre said.

  Stone sat down opposite her and her boss, while Herbie was pressed into a chair at the end of the table. A uniformed policeman stood behind him, glowering.

  Dierdre shoved a sheet of paper across the table. “That’s your client’s signature at the bottom of a waiver of his right to an attorney,” she said. She held up a cassette. “And this is the videotape of his full confession to the murder of Carmine Dattila.”

  “Well, I don’t know why I had to come all the way downtown,” Stone said. “Why don’t you just electrocute him and get it over with?”

  “Hey!” Herbie said.

  “Shut up, Herbie, or I’ll have your mouth duct-taped.”

  Herbie muttered something about free speech.

  “Do you have any duct tape?” Stone asked Dierdre.

  “I’ll send out for some,” she replied. “Stone, as I mentioned on the phone, we’re in a bit of a quandary here. We’d like your views on how to handle this.”

  Stone looked back and forth between the two prosecutors. He had time to reflect that no D.A. had ever asked his advice about prosecuting a client of his. Then he got the picture. “Oh,” he said. “Right. My client, Mr. Fisher, has been hounded and abused by Carmine Dattila and his employees for weeks. They have beaten him, kidnapped him and his murder has been ordered by Mr. Dattila, a tape of which statement is in your possession. Additionally, after the only other witness against Mr. Dattila was murdered in jail, Dattila sent a hired assassin to the hotel where Mr. Fisher was being held in protective custody, where he murdered the two police officers guarding him and would have murdered Mr. Fisher, had he not had the presence of mind to escape the hotel suite before the assassin found him.

  “These events convinced Mr. Fisher that the District Attorney and the police could not ever protect him, so, while the balance of his mind…may have been disturbed by these events, he found himself in the presence of Mr. Dattila and did the only thing he could do to protect himself in the circumstances and entirely in self-defense.” Stone stopped and took a breath. “That’s what I’d say to a jury, and I’d get an acquittal.”