Linda Fairstein - Final Jeopardy

In mid-June, Susan rented a movie theater on East Sixty-fourth Street to surprise Jordan for his thirty-fifth birthday. The party was a screening of his favorite movie, Thunder Road, with a fifties theme and everyone in fifties dress, playing pinball and dancing to Coasters music for hours after the film. I saw Jed dancing with Susan, and he was better than anybody on the floor. With my ponytail swinging, my turquoise poodle skirt and matching twin-set ready to move, I asked him to rock ‘n’ roll when the record changed and we danced about ten cuts before we stopped to exchange introductions.

When the party was over, the four of us hopped in a cab despite our ridiculous clothes and went downtown to the Gotham, where we sat for hours telling stories and trying to catch up on each other’s lives. The Gotham then became ‘our place’ for dinners together or entertaining friends as the romance flourished despite our mutual reluctance my fear of losing someone forever if I dared to love him too much, and Jed’s fear of involvement so soon after a disastrous divorce.

I thought, as I studied him in sleep, that perhaps this crisis would be the path for each of us to become more open to the other. I needed him to come to the Vineyard with me I had struggled for too long to keep my lovers away from where I had been happiest with Adam, and with the passage of so many years that division had become too artificial and unnatural. I also wanted Jed to let me understand what had happened to end his marriage, and to let me meet the children who meant so much to him.

Now that Jed had expressed his love for me tonight something I hadn’t felt ready to do yet I was confident we were on our way to a more secure relationship, and I eased myself onto my side next to his body. I hugged him tightly against me and finally gave myself to pleasant dreams, unpeopled by the stalkers and rapists and murderers who loomed before me every day.

“Was it good for you?”

“Mike, there aren’t words to describe how good it was,” I responded when Chapman called the apartment in the middle of Sunday afternoon.

“If you stop playing with yourself and give some girl a chance, maybe you’ll find out.”

“Am I interrupting something warm and wonderful right now?”

“No, Mike, he’s gone. This is fine.”

“Gone? Already? Jeez, I figured you two would still be making up for lost time. The guy doesn’t have a problem, does he, blondie? Not a long-ball hitter?”

“No problem, Mikey. Now why don’t you pretend to be mature and tell me what’s on your mind.”

Jed and I had awakened at daybreak. I was happy and excited, and we made love again, unmindful of what the rest of the world was worrying about. We had coffee together and read the Sunday paper, but he left early to catch up on the mail and messages that had accumulated in his office while he was out of town, before going to his apartment to unpack and settle in for the work week ahead.

“Did you catch the funeral service yesterday?”

“Of course. What did you think?”

“I’m throwing Kirk Douglas on the list of possible perps that was the worst acting job I’ve ever seen that man do. He’s practically my hero you know that but this was a lousy performance, pretending that broad was a saint.”

“He made Isabella furious, Mike,” I chuckled as I recalled her outrage. She had thrown herself at him during the filming of Blue Lotus, tried every one of her teddy-bear tricks to seduce him, but he reminded her that he was very much in love with his wife and wasn’t the least bit interested in a dalliance with her.

“She really thought she was irresistible. Thought a man had to be dead or insane if he didn’t react to her charms.”

“What are you doing today?”

I looked out the window as the rain streaked against it, the gray clouds mirroring my mood.

“Nothing, really. I’ve got some motions to answer for my next trial, so I’m just going to hang around and do my homework, return some of my phone calls.”

“Good. Lieutenant Dane just reached me. He had a notification from the Chief of Detectives. Thought you’d be pleased to know that they’re lifting your bodyguard tomorrow. Uniform team will drive you to work in the morning and then you’re on your own. Battaglia approved.

And I’m back on night watch as of midnight tomorrow.“

“Oh, Mike, that’s great news. Living with these watchdogs could really drive me nuts, I’m so used to just picking up and moving when and where I want to.”

“Here’s the case update. LAPD is going through Isabella’s house right now they’ll let us know if they find anything of interest. Wally Flanders is letting us work this with him, so we’ll get copies of any reports he gets. And best of all is that he wants us to do some of the interviews. Richard Burrell and Johnny Garelli for starters both’ll be coming into New York this week.”

“As suspects or witnesses?”

“Hey, everybody’s a ”possible“ in my book until they convince me otherwise. Now, for whatever it’s worth, Wally FedEx’d some of the photos that have been developed and turned in. Should be in the squad office tomorrow.

He thought Isabella was in a couple of frames but didn’t see anything else of interest. I left orders to get them to the lab immediately for enlargement, so by the time I get in at eleven-thirty to start a midnight tour, they should be available.“

“Great. Let’s not waste any time. I have to go to a black-tie dinner with Jed tomorrow evening, but I’ll be home by eleven. I’ll make a pot of coffee for you. Bring the pictures by when you swing out and we’ll look through them together, okay?”

“Long as nobody gets chopped up in little pieces or dumped in the East River before midnight, I’ll be there, Coop. Lighten up we’re going to break this thing open ASAP and get your life back to normal… if that’s what anybody calls normal. It’s really nasty outside just stay in and relax, you’re not missing a thing. See you tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone and went back to the dining-room table to work on the Vargas case. Not a complicated matter, a typical ‘push-in’ burglary that escalated into a rape, and my white legal pad filled up quickly with the draft of my answers to the demands for information made by the defendant’s attorney in the pretrial stage. I flipped through the complaint to find the exact time of occurrence, then backed up to get the precinct arrest number from the rap sheet. Like most stranger rapists, thirty-four-year-old Ervilio Vargas had a record that stretched back to his early teens. From fare beats and car boosts he moved to break-ins, then began to commit felonies with weapons, then threw in sexual assaults when he encountered women during his burglaries. He had done city time and state time, released to early parole on his last sentence, but never able to stay out of trouble very long. I planned to try him as a ‘persistent felony offender’ with more than five felony convictions to his credit. I was looking for a life sentence and no shot at parole. He had ruined far too many lives and been given more chances than any human being deserved. The victim was very cooperative and anxious to put Vargas out of business, too. If all the paperwork was done expeditiously, we’d be ready for trial before the Christmas recess. Happy New Year, Ervilio.

I had worked for more than an hour when the phone rang again, and I was delighted to hear my best friend’s voice on the line. Talking to Nina was the easiest thing in the world. We had been close since the first day at Wellesley and had guided each other through every significant event and every trivial detail of our lives. There were very few secrets we kept from each other, and she was unique in that her friendship had always been completely unconditional.