“S’bout time,” says this hardened case.
After a short ride, I found Ted waiting for me on the main floor at the 155 Leonard Street building where the Manhattan D.A. hangs his hat.
“What in the hell is this about?” Summers asks the two delivery guards. He was agitated because my escort had me in hand and ankle manacles complete with lead chain. I looked like Houdini about to jump into a river.
“He’s a murder one, max security,” the guard on my left informed Ted, the elevator starter, and sundry loiterers in the lobby. I recommend this kind of announcement to anyone who wants an elevator to himself because, as we approached a waiting car, its passengers decided to get out and wait for a safer ride.
The manacles didn’t come off until we were in a small waiting room somewhere on an upper floor. The guards left and Ted filled me in.
“It wasn’t easy, Chick. The D.A. is leery, but he knows that, if you’re right, he has a job to do, embarrassing as it might be. He’s playing it cosy just the same. He won’t be here. A young A.D.A. named Ruker will run the show. Mrs. Pemberton and the boat racer, Tierney, think they’re here because they met you at 21 the day you were there with Gina Velker. Jay Porter raised hell and his lawyer doubled it, but the D.A. stood firm, so the lawyer and Jay Porter decided to be here, too.”
“Jay Porter sniffs a rodent, no doubt.”
“And it isn’t Mickey Mouse, my friend. However, the fact that Dunn from Sports Illustrated is here bolsters the supposed focus on the 21 meeting, so they might be off center.”
“How about the Rhode Island lawyer, Procutto?”
“He’s coming down by plane this morning with Tommy Tanuka.”
“Tall Tommy! What’s he doing in this?”
“Like everybody else, he wanted to help, so I put him to work. He’s a very intelligent man and I felt Procutto would be more cooperative if we approached him on a personal basis. Tanuka’s been up there for two days, so I guess it took a lot of convincing.”
“How about the surprise guy?”
“He’s here. You’ll see him in the hall as we go into the hearing room. He’s not in uniform, but you’ll recognize the weatherbeaten face.”
“That’s the cast of characters, then.”
“Except for Jaffee from Homicide... best described as the wounded bull. He tried to talk the D.A. out of the setup, and hasn’t knocked himself out with cooperation. That’s it, Chick, my boy. Now, as they say, ‘break a leg.’ ”
Man, I’ve worked some tough audiences, but this crowd was grim. The minute I entered the room, a whitehaired guy was on his feet saying, “Mr. Ruker, we were not told that this man would be present.”
The ink on Ruker’s law degree might still be damp, but he was no slouch at confrere counterpunching. “Mr. Dins-more, let me make it clear at the outset that this is not, repeat, not, a forum. It was explained to you all that you were here by invitation, and invitations can be refused. You all accepted yours, and clearly, Mr. Kelly accepted his.”
“Mr. Ruker,” Dinsmore, obviously Jay Porter’s attorney, was about to play the Grand Old Man of Law to this kid behind the desk. “It was my understanding that Mrs. Pemberton and Mr. Tierney were called — sorry, invited — to substantiate that Mr. Kelly was at the 21 Club at a given time. It seems the district attorney’s office has abandoned more efficient means of fact-finding such as the affidavit.”
Nice try, but he still hadn’t fazed this kid juris doctor. “Mr. Dinsmore, we can spend the entire day in colloquy or we can clear this up...”
“There, you see,” Dinsmore interrupted, “you use the term ‘clear’...”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Charlie,” Byerle snapped, “let’s get on with it.”
“Yes, Charles,” Jay Porter agreed, “let’s hear what he has to say.”
Dinsmore sat down, making no attempt to hide his irritation.
“Now, Mrs. Pemberton,” Ruker said, “tell us of your meeting with Mr. Kelly at 21.”
“I wouldn’t say it was a meeting. I merely said hello in passing.”
“Just hello?”
“We discussed his ankle briefly. He walked with the aid of a cane.”
“How long were you in the restaurant before Mr. Kelly approached you?”
“A few seconds or so.”
“The person at the reservations desk remembers it as a much longer period, long enough for you to make a phone call.”
“Oh yes, I was calling Mr. Tierney to find out why he wasn’t there, and got no answer. He arrived shortly after.”
“During the time you entered 21 and prior to making the phone call, did you notice Mr. Kelly and his companion at Table 3?”
“I am not in the habit of rubbernecking, Mr. Ruker.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were, madam, but since Table 3 is in direct line of sight with the reservations desk, you could hardly miss recognizing a familiar face. In fact, I am given to understand that many celebrities like that table for its high visibility.”
“I am not familiar with the tribal beliefs of celebrities, Mr. Ruker. If all these questions are to establish that Mr. Kelly was with the woman who was killed, I am of no help to you at all. The first time I noticed him was when he came up to me. I don’t know if that helps or hurts his case, but it is the truth.”
“You can include me in that, too,” Buzz Tierney chimed in. “Kelly was with By... Mrs. Pemberton when I came into the lobby, so I couldn’t know where he was sitting.”
“If that’s why you got me down here,” it was Phil Dunn the sportswriter’s turn, “I arrived late and was taken immediately upstairs to the Bottle Room.”
“Well, that seems to settle that,” Dinsmore said with a sigh of relief. “I can appreciate the district attorney’s office wanting to be thorough, but since we can be of no assistance...”
“Mrs. Pemberton,” Ruker played right through the exit speech, “when you were going upstairs, you said to Mr. Tierney, ‘You promised it would work,’ and then you added, ‘Suppose Jay Porter finds out.’ ”
They couldn’t help it. Byerle and Buzz exchanged furtive glances, which we all caught, no one more acutely than Jay Porter.
“I don’t remember making any such statement,” Byerle said gamely.
Ruker gave her a sharp jab to set her up for a one-two combination. “Others do remember, and will swear to it. Your statement was remembered verbatim. So what was it that your husband wasn’t supposed to know, or find out?”
“Don’t answer that, Byerle,” Dinsmore was on his feet and angry as hell. “And I want you to listen to me, Jay Porter and Buzz Tierney as well. It’s preposterous, but there’s the thread of an implication here that Mrs. Pemberton is somehow involved in the death of Gina Velker. All this jabberwocky about being invited here for a chat about meeting Kelly was a ruse, and believe you me, Mr. Ruker, the D.A. will rue this action, if indeed it had his sanction at all.”
I wasn’t listening to Dinsmore’s harangue. I was looking at Jay Porter’s face. He stared fixedly at the wall behind Ruker’s desk, and I could sense the thought pattern emerging from his brain the same way it had in mine, which went like this:
Tierney and Byerle would like to make permanent whoopee, and they concoct the criminal conversation plot. Byerle would then have grounds for a beautiful divorce settlement plus a cut of Gina’s take. Poor Jay Porter’s brain was putting together the pieces, and his ever-tightening mouth showed he didn’t like it.