Стюарт Вудс - Barely Legal

“Sure. Because it isn’t true. It’s just a smokescreen and people buy it. This is different. I think your son’s telling the truth, and in this case it actually happened. Detective Kelly knows all the facts, and he’ll just keep covering up.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“You are.”

“Not here.” The councilman said, “David,” in a preemptive fashion, turned on his heel, and walked out of the courtroom.

Herbie looked at his client. David seemed embarrassed, probably that he was going to go along.

Herbie followed David outside, where the councilman had a limo waiting.

“Hmm. Man of the people,” Herbie said.

David sniggered. He was used to people kowtowing to his father. Someone standing up to him was a refreshing change.

The limo whisked them up to the councilman’s Fifth Avenue address. They went inside and up in the elevator.

Councilman Ross’s foyer seemed unnecessarily opulent to Herbie. “If you’re trying to impress me, I happen to know Stone Barrington.”

“Well-to-do, is he?”

“His town house rivals this, plus he has half a dozen houses including an English country manor, not to mention the chain of Arrington hotels he’s opened around the world. He also owns and flies his own jets.”

“Good for him.”

Ross ushered them into a sitting room slightly smaller than Madison Square Garden. “All right. What’s your next move?”

“I have no idea. Actually, I was hoping you could help me out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is this happening?”

Ross frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Someone is framing your son. Why? That’s what I can’t figure. Usually, with a drug bust of this kind, someone is framed because they can’t get him legitimately and they want to get him off the street, or they frame him to take the heat off somebody else. Neither of those scenarios makes any sense. But, his father’s a councilman. So, have there been any unusual demands on you lately?”

“There are always demands on me.”

“That’s not helpful. Do you happen to know Tommy Taperelli?”

“I’ve heard of him, of course. I’ve never met him.”

“How about Jules Kenworth?”

Councilman Ross blinked. “Why?”

“He’s in bed with Taperelli and Taperelli’s in bed with Kelly. You do the math.”

“I see.”

“You know Kenworth, don’t you?”

“I’ve had some dealings with Jules Kenworth.”

“And?”

“He’s a crook. Always looking to cut a corner.”

“Did he ask you to cut one?”

“No. But he’s always trying to line up votes for his projects.”

“Like what?”

“Building ordinances he wants lifted, to get around restrictions.”

“Did you ever vote for him?”

“Not that I recall.”

“I would think you’d recall.”

“No, I’ve never voted for one of his petitions. Or if I have, it’s because he was one of many bringing the suit, and it wasn’t just to benefit him.”

“What about lately?”

“I know I’ve turned everything down. I don’t want to be associated with that man.”

“Would he frame your son?”

“I can’t believe he’d do that.”

“Why not? You don’t like him.”

“What would he gain?”

“You tell me.”

Herbie’s cell phone rang. He didn’t want to answer it. There were so many people he didn’t want to talk to. He pulled it out and checked caller ID. Melanie Porter. Herbie didn’t know any Melanie Porter. He expected it to be a secretary at Woodman & Weld.

Herbie clicked it on. “Hello?”

“Herbie Fisher?”

“Yes.”

“Melanie Porter.”

“Yes.”

“I want to talk to you about the case.”

“Oh?”

“Are you where you can’t talk?”

“At the moment I’m in a meeting with Councilman Ross.”

“Oh, for goodness sakes. Is he giving you any straight answers?”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“I’m sure he isn’t. Daddy will never learn.”

“Who?”

“Oh, for goodness sakes. This always happens. The name threw you. I’m the councilman’s daughter. Daddy’s sweet, but he’s a politician.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re never going to get anywhere talking to him. Make an excuse to get out of there and call me back.”

The phone clicked dead. Herbie slipped it back in his pocket and found David and the councilman looking at him.

He grimaced. “I’m sorry. Something came up. I have to go, but that’s okay because you don’t need me for this conversation. I can’t help you right now. Only you can help you. You need to jog your memories, come up with some reason why this is happening. If Kenworth’s involved, why would he want to frame your son? Assuming that has anything to do with anything and it’s not just a monstrous coincidence. Just because the detective’s dirty doesn’t mean that’s what this is all about. Leaving your father out of it, is there anyone out to get you for your own sake? A disgruntled ex-girlfriend, for instance, who just wants to watch you squirm?”

“Not at all.”

“If that’s a ridiculous notion, rule it out. We need to get ahead of this thing because if your son is innocent, someone’s gone to an awful lot of trouble to make him look like he isn’t. If you come up with anything, give me a call.”

Herbie turned on his heel and walked out.

While the doorman hailed him a cab, Herbie whipped out his cell phone and called Melanie back.

“Where are you?” she said.

“Hailing a cab.”

“Meet me on the corner of Broadway and a hundred and tenth.”

“How will I know you?”

“I’ll be the one who walks up to you and says, ‘Herb Fisher?’”

“How do you know me?”

“I Googled you. I trust you still look like the geek in the Woodman & Weld photo.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Herbie said. “They Photoshopped out my handlebar mustache and muttonchops.”

Herbie got out of the cab at 110th and Broadway and looked around for Melanie.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder.

Herbie turned around to find a beautiful woman smiling at him. Her blond hair was tucked back in a tidy chignon, lending maturity to a face that looked younger than her years. Herbie wasn’t sure what her years actually were, he just knew she was older than David. Otherwise, he could have taken her for a freshman.

“Well, well,” she said, “if it isn’t my kid brother’s attorney. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Are you always this brusque?” Herbie said.

“Only when my brother’s facing jail time. Come on, there’s a little bar up the street.”

She took him up Broadway to a funky college bar. It was a little loud for Herbie’s taste, but his college days were in the rearview mirror. They were lucky enough to get a table for two along the wall.

“So,” Melanie said, “the advantage of this place is we can talk without being overheard.”

“Or hearing each other.”

“Hard of hearing, Gramps? I can lean close and shout. So, is my father any help?”

“In a word, no.”

She shook her head, deploringly but fondly. “Always the politician. You tried to connect the detective to Tommy Taperelli, didn’t you?”

“How do you know that?”

“I have a reporter friend who covers the crime beat.”

“Sits in on court cases?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would he sit in on this one?”

“Because it’s my brother.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Why do you say ex?”

“If he was your boyfriend, he’d be here.”

Melanie smiled. “You’re very quick. I suppose that’s an advantage in a lawyer. I always thought of them as stodgy and doddering.”