Paul Levine: Lassiter

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Because they used you, Jake. Krista’s grand entrance into the courtroom. Charlie all shocked. The phony alibi. You think that wasn’t planned?”

“No idea. All I know is that you’re a worthless piece of scum.”

“But I didn’t kill Max, Jake. I swear to God I didn’t.”

Three days after the precipitous end of the murder trial, I was invited to dinner at Ziegler’s house. A foursome. Charlie and Krista. Amy and me. We could have played bridge.

Earlier that day, the Governor appointed an acting State Attorney, who immediately dismissed all charges against Amy on account of prosecutorial misconduct. I gave her the news by phone, and she whooped with joy. Her tone of voice had become free and uninhibited. A new woman.

The acting State Attorney immediately announced a Grand Jury would hear evidence against Alex Castiel for Perlow’s murder. Ziegler was delighted with that news. On the home front, Lola had moved out of Casa Ziegler, Krista had moved in, and Amy was set up in the guesthouse.

A happy family.

Of murderers, according to Alex Castiel.

I promised I would take a shot at them. Not because I wanted to help Castiel. I believed what I said in the judge’s chambers. He wasn’t worth the effort. But a piece of Ziegler’s testimony didn’t hold up, and it nagged at me. I would confront him with it. If I had been used to frame a man for murder, I was going to do something about it. Not for Alex Castiel. But for me.

And so just like old times, I wore a wire.

We ate squab in a sticky sweet sauce, and Krista told me about her life.

When she was near death, it was Ziegler who quietly got her to a private hospital, then flew her to New York for facial reconstruction, and finally five months in a rehab facility.

“Charlie helped me walk again. Worked with me on speech therapy. When I was better, he got me a job in a casino in Tahoe, but I couldn’t stand on my feet all those hours. I got messed up with painkillers and attempted suicide. Charlie put me into therapy, got me straightened out again.”

Ziegler was her common denominator. He’d been there-for better or worse-since she was seventeen. A few years ago, he’d convinced her to move back to Florida so they could be together.

All told, she had been in hiding eighteen years. Castiel thought she was dead. A living, breathing Krista Larkin could ruin him. I understood all that. But something puzzled me.

“Why didn’t you contact your family all these years?”

“I tried! I called my father when I was still in the hospital. By then, he’d found out what I was doing in Miami. He told me I was a slut who was being punished by God, that I would be better off dead.”

I remembered the photo from Bozo’s that Sonia Majeski had given Krista’s father. He’d written on the back: “The Whore of Babylon.”

“He said if I tried to talk to Amy, he’d tell her all about me,” Krista continued. “He made me feel so ashamed. After a while, I told myself Krista Larkin was dead, so I buried her. I was Melody Sanders, a new person with a new life.”

But that was years ago and raised another question. “When Amy came to town, why did you wait to reach out to her?”

“Charlie asked me to chill for a few days, so he could figure out the situation. He was worried about Amy’s reaction if I told her the truth about Castiel. What if she went after him with a gun?”

“But then she comes after Charlie with a gun,” I said. “Or threatened to.”

“Which is when I contacted Amy without telling Charlie.”

“After Amy was charged, you could have come forward with your alibi.”

“I told her not to,” Amy said, “because Charlie said we could win without exposing Krista to the world.”

“The world” meaning Castiel.

I didn’t like the story, but so far, I didn’t have any evidence to contradict it. Of course, I still hadn’t questioned Ziegler.

After dinner, the sisters were floating on rafts in the swimming pool, gabbing and laughing and catching up on all those years apart. Ziegler and I sat in his study, my host in a fine mood. I was eyeing the artwork and an impressive gold-plated statuette of a naked woman. It was the People’s Porn award for one of Ziegler’s classics: Driving Miss Daizy Crazy .

“I’d like to pay Amy’s attorney’s fees,” he offered, agreeably.

“Nothing to pay. I told her I’d handle her case pro bono.”

“Doesn’t seem right. I’d feel better if I paid you.”

“I’d feel better if you didn’t.”

“Suit yourself. My life’s fine either way.”

Yes, it surely was. At least until I was through with him tonight.

Ziegler hauled a bottle of cognac out of a cabinet so we could toast the legal system and justice for all. We’d had frosty martinis before dinner. We’d moved on to that pricey daiginjo sake Ziegler liked so much, and now we were hitting the cognac. I wanted to loosen Ziegler’s tongue, preferably without having to yank it out with my hands.

“A Leopold Gourmel,” he said, pouring the cognac into a snifter, “aged thirteen years. I think you’ll catch a whiff of almonds and orange zest.”

He swirled, sniffed, and sipped, quite pleased with himself.

It seemed to be a good time to start asking questions. “What I still don’t get, Charlie, is why you I.D.’d Amy the night of the shooting.”

“Told you before, Castiel pressured me.”

“Yeah, but this is your lover’s sister we’re talking about.”

“Half sister,” he said. “Someone she hadn’t seen since she was a kid. Besides, I pretty much assumed it was Amy shooting at me, and since she missed, I thought she might come back for a second try.”

“So you didn’t get a good look?”

“Well …”

“Because in court, you I.D.’d Alex Castiel.”

“It sort of came back to me later.”

“Really? How’s that work?”

“I thought it through, afterward. You gotta remember, Max recognized the shooter. He said ‘You?’ sounding real surprised-hurt, even. I looked up, saw this figure I later realized was Alex.”

“Later?”

“Yeah. Combining all the factors.”

“With all due respect to a fine host …”

“Yeah?”

“That’s a load of crap.”

Ziegler held his look for a moment, then burst out with a laugh. “Aw, what do you care, Lassiter? Castiel’s a fucking lowlife.”

“Agreed.” I laughed, too, rough and hearty. I thought it best to let that issue go for a moment. Our conversation was being recorded. I had a good start and didn’t want to spook him by hitting too hard too fast. “We’ve come a long way, you and me, Charlie.”

Ziegler’s voice was wet and boozy. “You mean the day you busted into my office and called me a sleazebag.”

“There was something I didn’t realize back then.”

“What’s that?”

“That you really loved Krista.”

“Damn straight. From day one.”

“Which made it easier for you to commit perjury for her.”

His head snapped back as if I’d just stung him with a jab. “Jeez, Lassiter. Just when we were getting along.”

“Relax, Charlie. I’m trying to help you here. There’s a bit of testimony you might want to fiddle with before you testify to the Grand Jury about Castiel.”

That seemed to settle him down. “I’m listening.”

“You said both sisters were in the apartment when you called to tell Krista about Max getting shot. You gave Amy an alibi, so I wasn’t gonna challenge you on it, but Castiel’s lawyers will.”

“How?”

“Castiel will subpoena your phone records just like I did. You called twice. The first one was made to the landline in Krista’s apartment and reached voicemail. I figure Amy was there but was under instructions not to answer the phone. After hanging up, you immediately called Krista’s cell phone. This time, you reached her and spoke for eight minutes.”