I 've Heard That Song Before

56

For the second morning in a row, Vincent Slater received a seven A.M. phone call; this time it was from Conner Banks. “We’ve got a problem,” Banks said without introduction. “Peter was sleepwalking last night, during his stay at the sleep clinic, and tried to open the door of his bedroom. It could be viewed as a violation of the terms of his release. As soon as the prosecutor hears about it, there’ll be another bail hearing. Krause will move to have the bail forfeited.”

Slater swung his legs over the bed and sat up. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t want you to do anything except pray that the judge sees it our way-that Peter didn’t know what he was doing. Otherwise you can kiss another twenty-five million dollars good-bye.”

“You absolutely cannot let that happen!”

“Do you think I won’t give it my best shot? Vince, I’ve been telling you all along that this sleepwalking defense is madness. There is no way that the judge is going to buy it. He certainly wasn’t happy with allowing Peter to go to the sleep disorder center, even with the guards. My big worry is that it might look as if this is a stunt to boost Peter’s sleepwalking defense at trial. If the judge views it that way, your money is going to help the State of New Jersey reduce its budget shortfall.”

“Have you told Kay about this?” Slater asked.

“I didn’t want to disturb her yet. The last time I saw her was Monday, and she was pretty upset then.”

“I saw her yesterday and she was still very upset. Let me be the one to talk to her.”

“I’m sure the prosecutor will ask for an emergent hearing regarding Peter’s bail,” Banks told him. “You’d better warn Kay. She’ll want to be there. I’ll let you know what time it’s set for.”

Warn Kay, Slater thought as he showered and dressed. Yesterday she had me send one million dollars to Elaine’s account because she believes Elaine has something that could hurt Peter. Then Elaine upped the ante. Blackmail on top of blackmail.

It’s got to be the shirt, he thought.

Or could it be something else?

There was no use going into the Manhattan office today, he decided. If there was going to be an emergent bail hearing, he intended to be there. Rather than going into the city, he would work out of his office at the mansion, then drive Kay to the hearing.

It wasn’t easy to phone Kay and tell her what had happened at the sleep center, but he got the job out of the way. An hour later he drove through the gate of the Carrington estate. The security guard gave him a friendly wave. The guard stationed at the house nodded to him as he drove around the mansion and parked his car in the back. He used the key to his private office to enter the house. He was barely inside before his cell phone rang.

It was Nicholas Greco, requesting a brief meeting at his convenience.

“Mr. Greco,” Vincent said, “I can see no reason for our meeting, today or any other time. Peter Carrington has been indicted for murder because you located that maid who, for her own reasons, now claims that the sworn statement she made twenty-two years ago was a lie. Why would I be interested in exchanging a single word with you?”

“Mr. Slater, I am not in anyone’s employ at this time. For my own sake, I do not like to leave loose ends dangling when I work on a case. I understand that Peter Carrington may admit in court that it is possible he committed those crimes while he was unaware of his actions. But is it not also possible that there is, in fact, another answer? As his close friend and assistant, please give me half an hour. Hear me out.”

Without answering, Vincent Slater slammed the phone shut.

“Who was that, Vince?”

He turned around. Kay was standing in the doorway.

“Nobody important, Kay,” he told her. “One of those crank callers who somehow manage to get private numbers.”