Стюарт Вудс - Barely Legal

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Under the tutelage of Stone Barrington, Herbie Fisher has transformed from a bumbling sad sack into the youngest partner at the white-shoe law firm Woodman & Weld, and a man whose company is in high demand both because of his professional acumen and his savoir faire. But even his newly won composure and finely honed skills can’t prepare him for the strange escapade he’s unwittingly pulled into, and which — unbeknownst to him — has put him at the center of a bull’s-eye. In the city that never sleeps there are always devious schemes afoot, and Herbie will have to be quick on his feet to stay one step ahead of his enemies... and they’re closing in.

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“He won’t lose her?”

“Not a chance. He’s got a thing for girls in scrubs.”

“She’s a nurse?”

“An intern. Which is like a nurse, only different. It doesn’t matter. They all wear scrubs.”

“Just be careful you aren’t seen. And don’t lose her!”

“Don’t worry. We’ll grab her the minute she comes out the door.”

Fred Flicker, Stone’s factotum, was an unprepossessing man who doubled as a driver and bodyguard, though he seldom had to resort to weapons. A former member of the Royal Marines, Fred could barrel through larger opponents as if they weren’t even there. Driving Stone’s custom-made, armor-plated Bentley, he was invulnerable. Stone might as well have been riding in a tank.

Stone called Fred into his office. “I need you to pick up an intern at Cornell Hospital.”

“Oh?”

“A young lady by the name of Melanie Porter. She’s a friend of our house guest. Given the manner in which Herbie’s fiancée met her untimely end, I’d like you to be on your guard. Herbie likes this woman. I don’t want to overlook the obvious.”

Stone didn’t add that this particular girl was also the sister of the man Herbie was defending, but it was certainly on his mind.

55

Dino put a rush on the Yvette Walker investigation so all reports came straight to him. It didn’t take long to get results. The crime scene unit had lifted prints from the empty cash box in Herbie’s walk-in closet. They ran the prints and got a match: Donald Dressler, aka Donnie Dressler, aka Iggy Dressler, aka Simon Covington, aka Lonnie LeBlanc, a small-time con man with multiple arrests and convictions, who only managed to stay out of jail by ratting on his friends.

Dino didn’t bother to go through channels. He checked the lead out himself. The doorman at Herbie’s building had no trouble picking Donnie out from the row of photos Dino lined up on his desk.

“I recognize him. Food delivery guy. Took up a pizza.”

“What time was this?”

The doorman grimaced. “That’s tough. We get deliveries all night. Early as five, late as midnight.”

“Can you do a little better than that?”

“Not much. I really don’t remember.”

“Is there a security camera in the lobby?”

“Yes, there is.”

The security camera footage showed the delivery boy with the pizza approaching the desk at 8:05. Donnie’s features were discernible in the picture.

Dino went down to the courthouse and hunted up ADA Monahan. She was surprised to see him.

“Wow. A personal visit from the commissioner. Am I in trouble or something?”

“Why would you think that?”

“To rate such special attention. Or could it be that I’m prosecuting a friend of yours?”

“Well, you certainly charged one. I doubt if you’ll wind up prosecuting him.”

“Is that a veiled threat?”

“This is a courtesy call to let you know what the department is doing. We wouldn’t want you to be uninformed.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“With regard to that very case you mentioned, there have been some rapid developments. A suspect has emerged by the name of Donald Dressler.” Dino slid a copy of Donnie’s rap sheet in front of her on the desk. “The crime scene unit found his fingerprints all over the cash box that had been looted in the apartment. Of course, there’s no way to tell when those prints were made. However, the doorman has identified Mr. Dressler as the young man who was sent up to Herbie Fisher’s apartment in the guise of a pizza deliveryman at eight-oh-five last night.”

“You have got to be kidding.”

“It’s on the surveillance video. His face is plainly visible. Anyway, we’ll be issuing an APB on him as a suspect in the Yvette Walker homicide, and since you already have a suspect charged with the crime, I wouldn’t want to cause you any embarrassment.”

Dierdre Monahan’s face got hard. “Are you telling me to drop the charges against Herbie Fisher?”

“Absolutely not. It’s entirely your business. I’m just telling you mine. Sometimes our business conflicts, but we’re all on the same side.”

Dierdre referred to the rap sheet. “This guy’s a two-bit grifter. He doesn’t kill people. He’s a con man.”

“He’s been busted a number of times and he doesn’t like it. Each time’s a harder fall. Maybe he didn’t want to stick around and get caught.”

“Oh,” Dierdre said sarcastically. “He’s sick of short prison terms so he decided he’d risk life?”

“We’re just starting to get the facts. They don’t all add up yet.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Anyway, I wanted to give you the heads-up.”

After Dino left, ADA Monahan sat staring at the rap sheet. She’d have to tell the DA about this new development. He wouldn’t want her prosecuting a case she couldn’t win, particularly one that might lay the office open to ridicule. A dismissal wouldn’t be a bar to future prosecution. If she let Herbie go, she could always charge him again.

ADA Monahan scowled and reached for the phone.

56

Dino stopped off at Stone’s to give him the news.

Stone was as incredulous as Monahan. “A thief did it?”

“That’s what the evidence shows.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes more sense than Herbie did it.”

“Then it wasn’t Taperelli.”

“It doesn’t look like it, which is a big weight off my mind. I’ve been kicking myself around all day.”

“So has Herbie. He blames himself for Yvette’s death.”

“You want to tell him?”

“He’s not going to believe you. He’s going to think you’re making it up.”

“You can’t make up fingerprints.”

“Actually, you can. Lift ’em from one place and label ’em as coming from another.”

“My detectives wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh? Including Detective Kelly?”

“Fuck you, too, Stone.”

“Let’s go tell him.”

Herbie wasn’t convinced. “Yvette was killed by a burglar?”

“It’s possible,” Dino said. “In any event, it appears you were robbed.”

“Appears?”

“Do you have a cash box in your walk-in closet?”

“Yes.”

“Anything in it?”

“I keep some cash on hand.”

“How much?”

“A few thousand in hundred-dollar bills, just for emergencies.”

“Any jewels in the jewelry case?”

“Cuff links. Tie clips. A couple of watches.”

“There’s every indication they were stolen at the same time Yvette was killed.”

“She surprised a burglar? I don’t understand.”

“Nothing adds up because the stage was set. She was killed elsewhere, and put in the bed. The gun was put in your hand.”

“Can you prove that?”

“I’m doing my damnedest. The point is no one thinks you did it anymore.”

“But they did,” Herbie said flatly.

Seeing that Dino’s assurances weren’t lifting Herbie’s mood, Stone said, “Most importantly, it looks like this had nothing to do with the court case. Taperelli, the detective, that’s not what this was about. It just happened.”

“Yes, but why?”

Dino shook his head. “I don’t know. But I mean to find out.”

57

Chico And gus were parked outside the entrance of Cornell Hospital. Chico had found out when Melanie ended her shift, and brought in reinforcements. They’d come in a car in case she took a taxi home. Chico would follow her if she left on foot.

When the attractive blonde emerged from the hospital, Chico jabbed Gus in the ribs and pointed. “There she is.”

Melanie was still in scrubs, but with a light jacket and carrying a purse. Instead of walking toward York Avenue, she headed for the circular driveway out front.

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