Stuart Woods - New York Dead

Morgan was sitting rigidly in the steel chair, her hands clenched in her lap.

“Listen to me, Ms. Morgan,” Stone said, pulling up a chair. “You’ve already admitted to me that you and Sasha were having an affair, and that she was also having an affair with a man; that would make you pretty jealous, wouldn’t it? We’ve got canceled checks showing that Sasha paid you twenty thousand dollars in less than two months; your palm print was found on the terrace that Sasha fell from. We’ve got all that, Ms. Morgan, and we’re going to get more. Now, don’t you think it’s time you told us about it?”

Morgan’s shoulders began to shake, and tears rolled down her face.

Stone thought it was the only moment she had looked feminine since he had met her.

“Oh, God!” she moaned, “I want to tell you…”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a rumbling voice said from behind them.

Stone and Dino turned to see a tall man in a beautiful overcoat standing there.

“My name is Carlton Palmer; I’m Henrietta Morgan’s attorney; I know you won’t mind if I consult with my client. Alone,” he added for good measure.

The two detectives reluctantly gave up the field.

“Shit,” Dino muttered. “She was going to confess. We had her in the palm of our hands, and that slick bastard had to show up.”

“She had a right to see him, Dino,” Stone said. “To tell you the truth, I’d have been uncomfortable with a confession made before her lawyer got here.”

“She won’t say another fucking word now,” Dino complained. “We’ll just have to work our fucking balls off, making the case. If we’d had that confession, you and I would have made detective first by tomorrow morning.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” Stone commiserated. “She’ll never say a word to us now.”

Ten minutes later, Palmer came out of the cubicle. “Gentlemen,” he said, “my client will answer your questions now.”

They had moved to the conference room. Tape and video equipment was up and running. Leary had joined them for the big moment.

“I’d like to say something for the camera before you begin,” the lawyer said.

Stone nodded.

He got up, walked around to where Hank Morgan sat, placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder, and spoke to the camera. “I am Carlton Palmer, the attorney representing Henrietta Morgan, and I would like this record to show that Miss Morgan is giving this statement voluntarily and of her own free will in a spirit of cooperation with the police.” He returned to his seat.

Stone’s hands were sweating. “State your full name and address and place of employment for the record,” he said to Morgan.

“My name is Henrietta Maxine Morgan; I live at Seventy-one West Tenth Street in Manhattan. I am employed as a makeup artist by the news division of the Continental Network.” Her voice quavered a bit, but she was calm.

“Ms. Morgan, have you been advised of your rights under the Constitution of the United States?”

“I have been.”

“Are you making this statement voluntarily?”

“I am.”

“Have you been subjected to any duress with regard to this statement?”

“No.”

“Ms. Morgan, how long have you been employed by the Continental Network?”

“Just over three months.”

“And when did you first meet Sasha Nijinsky?”

“Shortly after I joined the network. I did her makeup once, substituting for someone who was out sick, and she began asking for me.”

“Did you and Ms. Nijinsky become friends?”

“Yes.”

“How long ago?”

“We were on friendly terms from the beginning. We began to become… close about eight weeks ago.”

“Did you, in fact, enter into a romantic relationship with Ms. Nijinsky?”

“Yes.”

“A relationship of a sexual nature?”

Morgan gulped. “Yes.”

“Were you in love with Ms. Nijinsky?”

“Yes.”

“And was she in love with you?”

“Yes.”

“Did she tell you she loved you, in so many words?”

“Yes. Many times.”

“Were you aware that, during the same period Ms. Nijinsky was seeing you, she was also having an affair with a man?”

Morgan looked away for the first time. “Yes. She told me so.”

“Did she tell you who this man was?”

“No.”

“Did she give you any indication, any hint at all as to his identity?”

“No. She referred to him as ‘What’s-his-name.’”

That rang a bell from Sasha’s diary. “How often did you see Ms. Nijinsky outside of working hours?”

“Two or three nights a week; sometimes four.”

“Where did these meetings take place?”

“Either at my apartment or at hers.”

“And when was the last occasion you saw Ms. Nijinsky?”

“The night before she disappeared.”

“Where did this meeting take place?”

“At her apartment.”

Stone paused. “Did you not tell me on a previous occasion that this meeting took place at your apartment?”

“I have no recollection of that,” Morgan replied smoothly.

Why was she changing her story? What did it matter where that particular meeting took place? “Did anyone see you in Ms. Nijinsky’s building that night?”

“The doorman saw me when we came in together. It must have been around nine o’clock. He was asleep when I left. That was around four in the morning.”

“What did you and Ms. Nijinsky do that evening?”

“I helped her pack her things; she was moving to a new apartment in a day or two. We had a late dinner and drank a bottle of wine together.” She paused. “We made love. It was a very happy evening.”

“And when did you next see Ms. Nijinsky?”

“I never saw her again.”

“We’ll come back to that. You were taking money from Ms. Nijinsky, weren’t you, Ms. Morgan?”

Morgan frowned. “ Taking money? Certainly not. I borrowed some money from her, and only at her insistence. I was remodeling my apartment, and I ran out of cash. I had some six-month CDs that were not due to mature for another three months, and Sasha said it would be crazy to cash them and lose the interest, and that she wanted to loan me the money to finish the project. It came to twenty thousand dollars out of the eighty that I spent on the project.”

This was not going the way Stone had meant it to. “You want us to believe that Ms. Nijinsky just loaned you the money – you, a person she had only recently met?”

“I don’t much care what you believe,” Morgan said coldly. “The money was a loan; I insisted on giving Sasha a promissory note for the amount, although she wouldn’t accept interest.”

“You’re aware that we have Ms. Nijinsky’s financial records and that we can search them for this note?” He was faltering now. Why hadn’t he gone through those records more carefully?

“That’s fine with me. I have a copy, if you need it.”

“Ms. Morgan, after the disappearance of Sasha Nijinsky, police experts removed a palm print from the outside of the sliding glass door of her apartment’s terrace. That palm print has since been identified as yours. On the outside of the door, Ms. Morgan, on the terrace from which Ms. Nijinsky fell. How do you explain that?”

“I told you that I had seen Ms. Nijinsky many times over the past weeks, often at her apartment. In fact, I think I remember when I could have left that palm print. On our last night together, Sasha and I took our wine out onto the terrace. There was no furniture out there, but it was a nice evening, and there was one break in the surrounding buildings where you could see some city skyline. I got something in my shoe, and I leaned against the sliding door while I shook out the shoe. I’m sure that must be the palm print you’re referring to.”