Widow’s Walk

CHAPTER FOUR

I went with Belson to the new Suffolk County House of Correction in South Bay, where they were holding Jack DeRosa for trial on an armed robbery charge.

“So, as I understand it,” Belson said, “I’m trying to help you prove that our case against Mary Smith is no good.”

“Yep.”

“And what’s in that for me?” Belson said. “I helped put the damned case together.”

“Justice is served?”

“Yeah?”

“And I’m your pal.”

“Oh boy,” Belson said.

We met DeRosa in a secure conference room on the first floor. His lawyer was with him. DeRosa was a small guy with a big nose that had been broken more than once. There was enough scar tissue around his eyes to suggest that he’d been a fighter.

“Welterweight?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Any good?” I said.

“I was a palooka,” he said.

“So you found another line of work.”

DeRosa shrugged. His jail fatigues were too big, and it made him look smaller than he was.

“Whaddya want?” he said.

“Woman named Mary Smith asked you to kill her husband,” I said.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“From me,” Belson said.

“We already have our deal in place,” DeRosa’s lawyer said.

She was stunning. Expensive blond hair cut short, dark blue pantsuit with a fine chalk line, white blouse, small diamond on a gold chain showing at her throat. She looked like she worked out, probably in bright tights and expensive sneakers.

“Where are you from?” I said to the lawyer.

“Excuse me?”

“What firm do you represent?”

“Kiley and Harbaugh,” she said. “I’m Ann Kiley.”

“Bobby Kiley’s daughter?” I said.

“Yes.”

“Wow!” I said.

“What can we do for you, Mr. Spenser?”

“I’m interested in who hooked DeRosa up with Mary Smith,” I said.

“And what is your interest, Sergeant?”

“I’m just along to learn,” Belson said.

“Are you here officially?”

“You mean if your client helps us out can I help him out?”

“Precisely.”

“Sure.”

She nodded slightly at DeRosa.

“Guy I know called me,” DeRosa said. “Told me this broad was interested in a shooter.”

“What’s the guy’s name?”

“Chuck.”

“Chuck.”

“Yeah. I don’t know his last name, just Chuck.”

“Where’s Chuck from?”

“In town somewhere,” DeRosa said.

“In town.”

“Yeah.”

“If I wanted to talk with Chuck, how would I reach him?”

“I don’t know. He called me.”

“So how’d you get in touch with Mary Smith?”

“Chuck give me her number,” DeRosa said. “I called it.”

I looked at Belson. He shrugged slightly.

“So,” I said. “A guy named Chuck, you don’t know his full name or how to reach him, calls you up and tells you that a woman wants her husband killed, and you call her up and offer your services?”

“Yeah.”

I looked at Belson again. He had no expression. I looked at Ann Kiley. She seemed calm.

“Okay. Tell me about your conversation with Mary Smith.”

“Hey, I already told about a hundred fucking cops and ADA’S,” he said. “Didn’t you read the reports?”

“It’s just an excuse,” I said. “You’re so goddamned charming that I just like to talk with you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like saying the same shit over and over.”

“Sure,” I said. “Like you got important stuff to do in here.”

“It won’t hurt,” Ann Kiley said, “if you tell it once more, Jack.”

“Yeah? Well, she met me at some fucking restaurant in a fucking clothing store, for crissake.”

“Okay. How’d you recognize her?”

“I asked the hostess, or whatever, and they seated me.”

“What’d she say?”

“She just said she wanted her husband killed and could I do it?”

“How much she paying?”

“Fifty grand.”

“Why didn’t you take the job?”

“I did.”

“But you didn’t kill her husband.”

“No.”

“Because?”

“Because I don’t do that kind of work.”

“But you took the money.”

“Yeah, sure. I figure I take the dough and don’t do it. What’s she gonna do?”

“And you have fifty large in your pocket,” I said.

“Twenty-five. She give me half up front, half when it was done.”

“She say why she wanted him killed?” I said.

“Nope.”

“She ever follow up with you?” I said.

“No.”

“So she gave you twenty-five thousand, and you put it in your pocket and walked away and never saw her again.”

“That’s right.”

“How’d she give you the money?”

“Whaddya mean how? She fucking handed it to me.”

“Cash?”

“Yeah. In a bag.”

“Big bills?”

“Hundreds.”

I went over it with him another time, and Belson tried him once. The story didn’t change.

Finally Ann Kiley said, “I think it is clear that my client has told his story and he retells it consistently.”

“I think you’re right,” I said.

“You’ll speak to the district attorney,” Ann Kiley said, “about my client’s willingness to cooperate.”

“Sure,” Belson said.

As we walked to my car, I said to Belson, “Anything bother you?”

“Like what?” he said.

“Like an entry-level slu)o being represented by Kiley and Harbaugh,” I said.

“Pro bono?” Belson said.

“You think?” I said.

“No.”

“It bother you?”

“Sure it bothers me,” Belson said. “And it bothers me that he got into the deal through a guy named Chuck whom we can’t identify, and it bothers me that his story is so exactly the same every time. And it bothers me his lawyer let him keep talking about it with only my sort of casual comment that I’d speak to the DA.”

“I noticed that myself,” I said.

“However,” Belson said, “sergeants don’t get to be lieutenants by helping people unsolve a high-profile murder.”

“True,” I said.

“But, I’m not forgetting what I owe you… When Lisa was gone.”

“That’s not an owesie,” I said.

“It is to me. I’ll help you when I can.”

“Mary Smith says she never hired this guy,” I said.

“Mary Smith’s an idiot,” Belson said.

“Well,” I said. “There’s that.”