“Yes. How can I help you?”
“Well, Adam, the thing is, I thought you were going to have Ms. Perkins call me.”
“Yes, I was. I’ve been unable to contact Violet. I tried, but her number has been disconnected. It was a, uh, one-night-stand type of thing. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly. We’ve all been there, right? Hey, I like that suit. Armani, right?”
“Yes, Armani.”
“Mine’s just an off-the-rack job, but not too bad, huh?”
“No, it’s quite dapper.”
Leo could sense Adam tensing up, not sure if he should tell this short little bald man to get the fuck out of his office. Leo loved playing the cat-and-mouse game. It felt good. He liked being the cat. He liked the look of terror in the mouse’s eyes. He liked letting the mouse think he’d lost interest, then pouncing on him and starting the game anew.
“Yeah, we’ve all been there. One-nighters. But you were with her the entire weekend?”
“Yes, just as I told you earlier. I was under the impression that this matter was closed. It was a tragedy. I am still in mourning. I’m afraid that I can’t quite see how bringing my marital indiscretions into the light will deepen anyone’s understanding of a senseless death.”
It felt good to have a little power again. Leo wished for a cigar to top off this extraordinary sensation, this exhilarating rush of the kill. It had been so long. He was on top of his game like never before. This cheap prick in his thousand-dollar suit was easy prey.
“Of course not, but as I said earlier, I have to verify your story in order to close the file. Do you happen to remember where you first met Violet?”
“At the Hendrix Institute.”
“Where your son stays?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hewitt, but I’m a busy man. I don’t see the point to this. Am I under some sort of suspicion?”
“Well, actually, Mr. Lee, there have been some irregularities in the case. Certain inconsistencies.”
“Inconsistencies?”
“I don’t believe your son killed your wife.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t. And because of this I’m going to have to verify your whereabouts that weekend. And I’m going to have to speak to Violet Perkins.”
“I see. Perhaps I should call my brother.”
“Perhaps you should.”
In the lobby of the Lawson Building, Leo stepped off the elevator and lit a cigar. When he looked up, he saw a painting of Rachel’s father, Benjamin Lawson. It was a massive oil on canvas framed in pewter. His date of birth and date of death were inscribed on a bronze plaque under the portrait.
TWENTY-FIVE
Adam parked his car in the macadam lot of the Hendrix Institute. He walked alone under the sodium arc lights. Inside, he tried to remain matter-of-fact with the desk nurse. He didn’t want to betray his urgency. He had foreseen no reason to contact Violet after their last weekend together, and now found that he couldn’t locate her. Apparently, she didn’t want to be located.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Lee.”
“Perhaps she quit.”
“It’s possible, but I’ve been here seven years and I’ve never heard of her. I make out the schedules.”
“And Violet is a somewhat unusual name. You’d remember a name like Violet.”
“Yes, I’d remember. I’m sorry.”
Cigar smoke, thick and acrid, floated from the open window of Leo’s pickup truck. He watched Adam leave the building and drive away.
The next day, Adam met Monty for lunch. They took their sandwiches from the greasy-haired man behind the deli counter. All the tables were jammed full with the lunch hour crowd. The two brothers stood at the counter and ate. Monty wolfed his down and talked around the food in his mouth.
“He’s a loser. He just wants to make himself look good.”
“He keeps calling me. He came to my office.”
“He’s a kiss-ass. When I couldn’t get down there that night, he says, ‘Oh, Mr. Lee, I’d be happy to go make sure your brother’s all right.’ Now he’s just trying to impress his boss, whom, by the way, I’ve fucked.”
Adam wrapped his half-eaten sandwich in a napkin and tossed it in the trash.
“He says I need an alibi for that weekend. That there are inconsistencies.”
“Inconsistencies? Inconsistencies? That fat bald fuck. Look, I’ll call up Paula, maybe let her suck my dick, give her a good fuck. She’ll tell the loser, this Leo, to drown his sorrows in a glass of. .. Slim Fast, and leave you the fuck alone. Trust me. I’ll take care of you.”
Monty popped the last of the sandwich into his mouth, finishing it in one huge bite.
TWENTY-SIX
Leo waited outside the courtroom and wished for a cigar. He hated being down here. People still recognized him from before. Other lawyers. Within his profession, and to some degree outside it, he was infamous. And down here, around the criminal courts, his presence was apt to draw stares. He might as well have a placard around his neck- I’m the man who set a child killer free. And as much as he hated being down here, this was where he wanted to be. This was where he knew he could soar. If he could somehow parlay this Lee thing into a second chance, he wasn’t going to waste it. He knew it would be his only chance. And he knew there was something there. Something wrong. And if he could convince Paula, and Paula could convince Bob…
A man reading from a legal pad slowed down as he passed by Leo and looked him over.
“Got a problem, buddy?”
The man looked away and continued on his way across the lobby. Leo stared after the man and thought back to the kinder, gentler days when sand-filled ashtrays dotted this lobby. A cigar would be nice right about now.
The doors of the courtroom swung open and a crowd of people exited the courtroom and filled up the lobby. Among them, he spotted Paula heading briskly toward the elevators.
“Paula!”
Leo ran to catch up with her and followed a few steps behind her.
“Leo! Find anything on the grassy knoll?”
“Well, nothing to speak of.”
“Speak of it.”
“Well, like you said, the kid did the same thing five years ago. I call him a kid, but have you seen him? He’s a bruiser. Anyway, they put him away after he cracks Mom’s head open the first time. Then a year later he kills another mentally retarded man in the hospital arguing over socks. Called it an accident. So they put him in this Hendrix Institute, private, high dollar, and strictly for the hard-core types. Are you with me?”
Paula quickened the pace a little to try to get to an open elevator before it closed. “Keep going.”
“And so here we are now and the husband decides it’s time for a little home visit about the same time he decides to go away with Princess Di for a romantic weekend getaway.” He followed Paula onto the crowded elevator.
“They let the kid out? With a history like that?”
“Like I said. Private. High dollar. Albert has never been charged with a crime.”
“And Princess Di?”
“She’s some kind of nurse at the institute. Very discreet, huh? So Mom’s at home with the Incredible Hulk and Daddy’s in the mountains getting his candle waxed, and then uh-oh, the kid cracks Mom in the head again. Only this time she’s dead.”
“And what you’re trying to say is?”
Leo waited until the elevator stopped. They got off and headed for Paula’s office.
“I don’t think Junior iced Mom.”
“Because..
“Number one, the murderer’s left-handed, the kid’s right. Number two, we got blood splatters on the drapes, on the walls, the place looks like Helter Skelter and there’s not a drop on the kid.”
“You know, I saw the pictures. It wasn’t that bad.”
“But still.”
Paula opened her office with a key. She tossed the keys on top of the coffeemaker, plopped into her chair, kicked off her shoes, and propped her legs on the desk.