Стюарт Вудс - Desperate Measures

“I intended to, but then, suddenly, the lobby was full of cops, and there were a lot of sirens outside. This was the night they found the girl in the dumpster.”

“How did you hear about that?”

“They arrested me, and the subject came up.”

“Did you withhold any information?”

“No. I told them about the attic door, and according to my attorney, that led them to the room the girl jumped from.”

“Did you refuse to answer any questions?”

“Not until I got the feeling they thought I was implicated, then I shut up and demanded an attorney. A firm, Littlejohn & Brown, that represents some of my grandfather’s interests, sent me Ted Faber. The only advice he gave me was to shut up, which I was already doing. Then he brought me an offer, five years, if I’d testify against Sid and Larry. I told him I wanted to walk on all charges, and then I’d talk to the DA.”

“Well, you sound like an ideal client, Mike. I understand you’re saying you’re innocent of all charges, is that right?”

“That’s right. I had absolutely nothing to do with harming those girls. I’m not put together that way.”

“All right, tell me what you’re going to tell the DA that will want her to make the deal.”

“I keep a journal, every day. I have lots of time every night.”

“And where is this journal?”

“In a safe place.”

“How long would it take for you to produce it?”

“As long as it takes for you to go get it from the safe place.”

“And how does the journal relate to the murders?”

“I noted the times when Sid and Larry disappeared. I expect that if you compare them to the dates the girls were murdered, you’ll get some matches.”

“That’s good, but I think we need a little more than that. Are you aware that a murder almost identical to the ones in New York occurred in Los Angeles almost simultaneously?”

“I was not aware of that, but Sid was in Los Angeles for a few days during that time. He took some vacation time to visit his mother, he said.”

“The name of the girl who jumped from the building is Faith Barnacle. Did you know her?”

“Sure, she was a pilot with a charter airline; she stayed there at least a dozen times, maybe more.”

“Did Sid or Larry pay any attention to her?”

“Yeah, it’s the old story: Sid tried to chat her up, but what girl wants to be chatted up by a guy who’s mopping the floor?”

“And you saw this happen?”

“I did, and Sid was plenty pissed off about it. I heard him call her a ‘fucking bitch,’ after she walked out of earshot.”

“How about Larry?”

“He was always pretty quiet. Sid did the talking to the girls.”

“Anything else, Mike?”

“Have you spoken to my grandfather?”

“No, he preferred to deal through Ted Faber.”

Adams snorted. “Yeah, he would. He’d want to keep his hands clean.”

“Mike,” Herb said, “let me give you some advice. Be grateful to your grandfather. He’s the one who’s ultimately going to get you this deal.”

“Okay, I understand. When will I get out?”

“Not for a while, but I think we can improve your circumstances. If they go for the deal, they’ll move you to a hotel, and you’ll probably be there until you testify.”

“Why?”

“Maybe Sid and Larry have other friends, who might take exception to you testifying.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“One more thing, Mike. Where’s the diary?”

“It’s in my office, behind the front desk, in a small safe under the floorboards.”

“Haven’t the police already searched it?”

“Maybe, but they can be pretty perfunctory.”

“What’s the combination to the safe?”

Adams gave it to him.

“How do I locate the floorboards?”

“They’re under the document shredder.”

Herb gave Adams his card. “Call me if you need anything.”

“How soon will we know about the deal?”

“Soon,” Herb said. He shook Adams’s hand, then banged on the door and was let out.

Herb got back into Ted Faber’s car and asked to be taken to the hotel on Lex. He walked into the lobby and found it deserted. “Hello?” he called, but got only an echo for a response.

He flipped up the part of the desktop that admitted him to the front desk, then found the door to the small office behind. He dragged the document shredder to one side, found the safe under the floorboards, and entered the combination. The journal was on top of some other items; Herb put the journal into his briefcase and looked through the safe. He found a.380-caliber semiautomatic pistol, some ammo, and a spare magazine. There was also a thick manuscript entitled “Night Job in Hell.” Pretty florid for a front desk, he thought. He closed the safe and left the hotel, checking his watch. It was a little past five. He wanted to see Cheray Gardner, and he knew where he was likely to find her. He told the driver to take him back to the courthouse. On the way, he googled the murders and noted the dates of each, then he compared the dates to the notations in Mike Adams’s diary. They all matched, even the one in L.A. He marked the entries with his business cards and put the diary back into his briefcase.

Once at the courthouse, he directed the driver to a bar a couple of blocks away. “Wait for me,” he said, taking his briefcase inside with him.

The place was going full blast, filled with lawyers, detectives, and court employees. Herb checked his watch and took a seat at one end of the bar. He didn’t have long to wait. Cheray Gardner entered the bar and immediately spotted him in her usual corner. She came over and permitted herself to be air-kissed.

“Well, Herb, you’re out of your neighborhood, aren’t you? Or are you actually trying a case?”

“Certainly not. When all your clients are innocent, why bother with trying cases?”

She laughed heartily. “Yes,” she said, “you can buy me a drink.”

“Bartender,” he said, “a very dry Belvedere martini with four olives, straight up.”

“You remembered,” she said. “How sweet of you.”

“What are you working on these days?” he asked.

“Oh, the usual,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation.”

“How about you?” she asked. “What’re you working on?”

“Oh, a very nice divorce case and some real estate work attendant to that.”

“Funny,” Cheray said, looking at him questioningly. “I thought you might be working on one of my cases.”

“What case is that?”

“Oh, just a team of serial rapists and killers who’ve been terrorizing the Upper East Side.”

“I’ve read about that one, of course, and this afternoon I was asked to represent one of them.”

“Which one?”

“The innocent one,” Herb replied.

“Oh, ho, ho! Am I supposed to ask which one?”

“You already know which one,” Herb answered. “So do the cops.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really, Cheray. You’re just waiting for one of the three to break and rat out the other two, and you don’t really care which one.”

“That’s not a bad guess,” she said.

“Maybe I can help you out,” Herb said. “Suppose I can get the innocent one to flip and give you enough to convict the others?”

“Then I’ll buy you a very good dinner,” she said.

“Tell you what, I’ll settle for a steak here. Shall I find us a booth?”

“Sure. We can figure out who’s buying over dessert.”

“I’m just accepting your offer.” Herb went to find the headwaiter and slipped him a fifty. He beckoned to Cheray, and she came over.

“Oh, and the nicest, quietest booth, too.”