Howard Engel - The Cooperman Variation

“Yes, Mr. Bosco.”

Fifteen minutes later, Bosco and I were seated in a booth in a Chinese restaurant called the Champion House. It specialized in serving Peking duck and announced the coming of each duck from the kitchen by sounding a gong. Although the restaurant looked tidy and comfortable, the patrons repaid the good food and service by writing their thanks on the wallpaper. On the wall behind Bosco, I could make out: “Greeeeaaat duck!! You did it again. Blessings and thanks, Alabama and Stan, Mel and Lorne, Port Alberni, B.C.” Bosco ordered a plate of Chinese vegetables and some sliced duck. The waiter brought a big pot of green tea.

“Okay, let’s have it,” Bosco said. “I want to know what you know. Then tell me your price.”

“I’m not buying or selling. I’m collecting the facts, just like old Joe Friday on TV.”

“You’ve talked to Roger? Shit! You can’t trust anybody!”

“Look, if we’re going to get anywhere, let’s not cut the ribbon before we build the bridge. No, I haven’t talked to Roger, but I recognized him in the Orillia photographs. He must have been crazy to stick by the alibi he provided for you. I’ve never heard of a more harebrained scheme. I mean, talk about stupid. The pair of you. You both could lose your licences. Hell, with the murder, you could both be facing prison. How did you shut him up when Renata was murdered?”

“Like everybody else around here, he wants into the charmed circle. He’s a good trial lawyer and will be an asset to the firm, so I’m not introducing dead weight to the partners.”

“Save me your rationalization. I just want the why and wherefore.”

“I’ve felt like a hit-and-run driver since it happened.”

“So you got him to cover for you on the night of the murder.”

“It didn’t start out as the night of the murder! It was just a Monday-night talk. Christ, you have to see that.” He moved a hand through his hair, checking to see that it was all there. “All he had to do was drive to Orillia and read my speech.”

“But how did you keep him quiet when they found Renata dead? Suddenly it had become more complicated.”

“Promises. I made him promises, just as I said.”

“Okay, now the big one: where did you go that night?”

“I could lie to you.”

“Yeah, and you could stand mute. But I have a hunch that you want this thing cleared up. You went to see Renata, didn’t you?”

“You’re leading.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Yes. Oh, yes; God, yes!”

“Tell me about it.” He looked at the ceiling, then around at the three remaining diners in the place. Nobody was looking at him.

“I got there at eight. She cooked dinner. We ate it. Do I have to tell you this? We made love in her room. Is that what you want to hear? You want to know what it was like? Sorry, Cooperman, but you’re pushing me, and I don’t like it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Later, we did the dishes, you know? — and talked. We had a lot to talk about. About us, I mean. Things hadn’t been going all that well.”

“Did you arrange to meet her or was it the other way around?”

“She phoned me at the office; said she had to see me. It was important, she said.”

“Did she get to the subject?”

“No. She did say that she thought she was being followed. She was nervous. We’d gone from the kitchen to the living-room; she was leading up to something she wanted to tell me. I could tell, but before she could get launched, the doorbell rang.”

“Go on.”

“She got up, said that she’d be back in a minute. Before I could pick up the paper, I heard Renata’s voice. At first it was indistinct and then it built into a scream. I can still hear it in my head. I won’t ever get that sound out of my head. Then I heard the gun go off. Just the two blasts, one right after the other. Almost at the same time. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds after she left me sitting there.”

“You heard the scream and then the gunshots, right?”

“Yes. I thought I’d said that.”

“What did you do?”

“I’m ashamed. I’m so ashamed!”

“I’m not your priest. Just tell me.”

“I hid behind the couch. I thought he was going to come into the room and get me too.”

“You were sure it was a man?”

“At the time I was. I don’t know why. I guess it could have been a woman.”

“And you forgot that he or she had to reload the gun after firing both barrels?”

“I didn’t see the gun. It could have been a pump action. But I wasn’t thinking straight. I hid, sitting on the floor. Behind the couch.”

“Okay, okay. I probably would have done the same thing. Look, I’m no hero either. What else? Did you hear anything?”

“Nothing until the door closed. I must have stayed there for another five minutes before I realized that the murderer had gone and wasn’t coming back.”

“So you got up to see what had happened?”

“That’s right. What had happened was that Renata … had … You know. Don’t take me through that again. I turned on the hall light. Just for a second. I had to turn it right off again. I couldn’t …”

“Okay, you saw that she was dead-that she was beyond saving, anyway. What else?”

“What do you mean, ‘What else?’”

“Did you think for a moment that you might call the cops?”

“I went into the bedroom with that in mind, but before I reached the phone, I saw how bad I’d look. I’d be perfect casting for the murderer. I’d set up an alibi so that I could show I was a hundred miles from the crime scene. Why would I do that if I didn’t have some sinister purpose?”

“But, Mr. Bosco, you did make those arrangements.”

“That wasn’t to provide an alibi! I got Roger to spell me off for the evening. He’d do the talk, and I’d see what Renata wanted. It only becomes suspicious in the light of what happened to Renata.”

“You’re lucky Roger’s so ambitious.”

“He’s nearly come unstuck twice. Don’t get me started on that.”

“Back to the scene of the crime. Besides Renata lying there, what else did you see?”

“Nothing. Nothing but the two spent shells from the gun. The ones they found later in Vanessa Moss’s locker. I can’t figure that one out.”

“The shells were left in the hall by the murderer? Is that what you’re saying?” Bosco nodded. His lank hair was falling over his eyes, and he brushed it back with his hand unsuccessfully. “You could have told the police that it was Renata and not Vanessa who’d been killed. You kept quiet. For a whole week. Why?”

“I don’t know. I must have been in shock. I tried to think of a way to let them know, but everything I thought of brought the cops to my own front door. They’d have finished me. Ray runs a very tight ship, Mr. Cooperman. There’s no room for second chances.”

“So, instead of doing something useful, you’ve been playing Sherlock Holmes on your own. I hope you have a couple of prime suspects?”

“That fellow George Brenner, the parking guy at the network. He knew where Vanessa lived. They’ve been having an affair. He may have seen me arrive at Vanessa’s house and mistaken Renata for Vanessa.”

“The old jealousy dodge. Who else?”

“Well, Bob Foley was looking good for a while. It might be the reason for his suicide.”

“Why’d Dermot Keogh choose him as one of the trustees of the Plevna Foundation?”

“They were friends. Foley was Keogh’s gofer. He saw to Dermot’s laundry, licence renewals, boat and car maintenance, electric bill, you know, all the stuff a genius hasn’t time to look after.”