Howard Engel - Dead and Buried

“There had to be more than that. Dowden was crushed in the chest area, that’s not consistent with injuries received standing up or walking away from the truck. He was on his knees. Were you behind the wheel?”

“I’m not saying anything else about that. You’re right as far as you went. I hope that makes you happy.”

“You think I enjoy this, Mr. Caine? I can think of lots of things I’d rather be doing. So, let’s just try to get through this as painlessly as possible. Who else was out at the fort and saw the accident?”

“Just-nobody. Nobody saw it but me. So you’ll have to take my word. I hope you don’t think that’s intended to be funny.”

“It’ll have to do for now; I can’t prove you’re lying. But I know you’re covering up for somebody. If they lay a murder charge against you, Mr. Caine, we’ll see how loyal you’re prepared to be. I suggest that it stops just this side of formal charge of murder.”

“I say the police can make just as good a case against Ross. I already told you that.”

“But with you, Caine, they get extras. They get Kinross. You’re the chief executive officer. They’ll say you made all the decisions about the planting and dumping of toxic waste. They’ll be able to draw a line that leads from Dowden and his knowing too much to Norman Caine. They’ll draw another line, this time running from Pásztory to Norman Caine. Dr. Carswell told you I came to see him. That put you on your guard. After more than a year, Jack Dowden was coming back to haunt you. Then Carswell saw me talking to Alex Pásztory. That was breathing too close. I was lighting a match and looking down a gas-filled barrel and you were in there.

“O’Mara will talk, you know. We can get the other witnesses to come back to tell the truth. Carswell is scared. Unreliable.”

“They only know about the yard. They can’t talk about what happened at the fort. So where’s your case?”

“The cops aren’t greedy, Caine. If they can get you for intimidating witnesses, failing to report an accident, leaving the scene of an accident, giving false information. Oh, if they want, they can cut very deeply into the early years of your marriage.”

“Christ, Cooperman! Shut up, damn you!”

“Sore spot, eh? Sorry. I was forgetting that you are on your honeymoon.”

“Look, I’m an ambitious kind of guy, right? I want to get ahead. And I’ve damn well done it! I’ve got Kinross and the holding company right in the palm of my hand. I’ve got the votes I need to get on the board of directors and-”

“You’re forgetting that the death of the Commander spoils those chances. At least you didn’t have a reason for killing him. You’re right there. The cops won’t have too much trouble bringing Ross to court on the evidence they have already. And as for the business, do you think that the city will renew its contract with Kinross after all this?”

“Who else is there?”

“I’ll bet the Environment Front people will have the answer to that one. And of course the city doesn’t have to worry. All blame will be attached to Kinross. That’s in the contract. So Paul Renner in the Sanitation Department can officially say you are beneath contempt, but never quite look you in the eye while saying it. Your bringing him into it won’t help, because legally they’re in the clear and the dioxins and PCBs are all on your head.”

“You’ve really been through this, Cooperman. I apologize. You work for your money. It’s not all bashing around in the petunias with my esteemed father-in-law.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Damn it all Cooperman, what do you want me to say? That Environment Front is doing a grand job? That we in business are grateful for their interest? That’s all bull. I’m in business to stay in business. That’s the bottom line for me. Those people are trying to put me out of work, put my whole payroll out on the street. And damn it, I’m not doing anything new! Everybody’s doing what we are. So why am I the only villain? And as for the people who get so excited about a few buried drums of chemicals and go into orbit at the loss of the rain forests down in South America, tell them they’re going to have to give up their plastic bags and spray cans and packaging. You’ll see those bleeding hearts turn to stone! Oh, you can count on that.”

“What about the kids you and Sherry plan to have? Don’t they mean anything?”

“Come on, Cooperman! Join the real world! I want to give them the best that I can, and that means position and the money to keep it up. They’ll be long gone before your beloved ozone layer disappears.”

“So you’re abandoning your grandchildren and their children? If you don’t see them, they don’t count. Is that it?”

“Look, Cooperman, we could go on like this, back and forth all day, and I still wouldn’t be convinced. From my office, the world is a rough place. You show you’re soft and you’re gone by Thursday! Every fraction of a cent I can pare from expenses is not only legitimate but the difference between sinking or floating. If I clean up Kinross, the city will enter into a deal with Millgate-Falkner or one of the others. They don’t care what we do with the rubbish; they don’t want to know about it. Everybody has a bottom line. I didn’t invent it.”

“Why did you pick O’Mara and me up?”

“That wasn’t exactly my idea. I’ve got partners.”

“Partners? Oh, not with Kinross but with Sangallo Restorations?”

“Yeah. We didn’t have much choice there.”

“That would be my old friend, Anthony Horne Pritchett. Well, well. There aren’t many pies he hasn’t a finger in. What was it he had in mind?”

“He was just going to scare you. He has a boat in the harbour down at Port Richmond. I don’t know. He said he wasn’t going to do away with you in case your records showed that you were working on our street. That would be bad for both of us, Pritchett and me.”

“So, if he was all that concerned about me and O’Mara, both potential witnesses in a case against you, why did he ice Pásztory, who could have given him just as much trouble?”

“How should I know? Do you think Pritchett phones me and keeps me informed? He’s always been a monolith. There are no handholds on him. I pass that along for nothing.”

“Yeah, I always found him lubricious in my dealings with him in the past.” I was glad that I could work that word in. Maybe it was the rye giving me courage.

“The cops think that Pásztory was finished by a professional. What’s your opinion?”

“Look, Cooperman, opinions are chicken-shit. They won’t buy paper to wrap fish in.”

“I haven’t taken your little billet-doux to the cops yet. They might take it seriously,” I said. He looked at his watch, like I was boring him. “Go placidly amid the noise and haste,” I quoted. “Do you think they’ll buy that as Pritchett’s style, Mr. Caine?”

“Shove it, Cooperman!”

“Doesn’t sound like him, does it? I never did get the pronunciation of Desiderata right. My tongue keeps tripping over the Latin. Or is it Greek?”

“Okay, you’ve had your little joke. Now get off my back.”

“Remarkable things they’re doing with lasers these days in Toronto at the Forensic Centre. They can find fingerprints just about everywhere. There are lots of tricks they can do with a bit of paper like the one we’re talking about.”

“Don’t push too hard, Cooperman. I’ve already told you plenty. The note? You say it’s a threat. I say it’s calligraphy. You won’t ride far on that whatever the forensic people say.”

“Still no comment on Pásztory?”

“I’m expected upstairs. I can’t waste any more time shooting the breeze with you.” Were we running out of gas in our conversation or was he avoiding that particular question? My money was on the latter. The latter is always a good bet. That’s why I’m still working for a living.