Finally, I asked, ‘Back when you were still in uniform? What was your rep?’
Potter laughed, his eyes blinking rapidly. ‘On the street, they called me Robocop. Tell ya the truth, Harry, I was flattered.’ He hesitated for several seconds, his eyes still fixed on the mug resting between his fingers. ‘What about you?’
‘I was a “necessary force” kind of cop. It took a lot to get me pissed off.’
‘But I somehow managed to accomplish the trick? I gotta say, Harry, I find that flattering, too.’
It was after twelve and detectives just coming off the four-to-midnight tour would ordinarily be stopping by to wet their whistles. But not tonight. Through a window in the front of the bar, I could see dark lines of snow silhouetted against a street light on Knickerbocker Avenue. If anything, Mike Blair was looking to close up and head home.
Potter broke the silence a few minutes later. ‘You wired, Harry?’
‘No need, Linus.’
Potter considered my response for a moment, then nodded. ‘I knew you wouldn’t stop. I knew you’d keep coming. I knew it from the first time you spoke to me. Dante thought you’d quit, but I knew you’d keep coming.’
‘That’s why you sent me Russo’s photo. It’s why you told me to connect Russo, Jarazelsky and Szarek. It’s…’ I paused when something flickered through Potter’s eyes. He caught my hesitation and smiled, but chose not to speak. Perhaps I’d made one too many assumptions, a technical error, but we were both professionals. We knew that it wouldn’t matter, in the short or the long run. Still, I changed the subject.
‘Can I assume you’re not connected to Greenpoint Carton?’
‘Yeah, you can.’
I gave it a few beats, then shifted gears again, putting more distance between our conversation and my gaffe. ‘We got a problem here. You want to know why and I want to know what. You can see how this creates a certain dilemma.’
‘When,’ Potter replied.
‘When?’
‘I want to know when, too.’
‘When did I know for sure?’ I asked.
‘Yeah.’
Though I hadn’t been certain of Potter’s involvement until Adele identified him as her attacker, I straightened in my seat and assumed a positive tone as I got to work.
‘Last Sunday, when I met Tony Szarek’s girlfriend, that’s when I knew. What was it you said about Tony? Something about traveling from a rented room to a bar stool all the days of his miserable life? That was very poetic, Linus, but it was complete bullshit. By all accounts, the Broom was a happy man. Now I admit, in and of itself, that wouldn’t mean a whole lot. Maybe you and Tony were hardly acquainted, maybe you were just telling a good story. But you knew where Tony was buried. You said it right out, “Mount Olivet Cemetery.” That indicates a closer relationship.’
Potter looked down at his mug for a moment, then carried it over to the bar. His jacket was unbuttoned far enough for me to catch a glimpse of the weapon snugged behind his hip as he got to his feet. But Potter’s intent was not on mayhem, not at that moment. He waited patiently for his mug to be filled, then came back to the table without once looking at Adele.
‘My mother,’ he said as he sat down, ‘was a very religious woman. One of the things she used to tell me was that I should live every day as if it was my last. Now I drink every beer as if it was my last. You think that’s what she meant?’
He raised the mug to his mouth and drained it, his neck so muscular his Adam’s apple was little more than a shadow moving beneath his skin. ‘Fire away,’ he said.
‘If you remember, you told me you worked on the Clarence Spott case.’
‘I was a fly on the wall.’
‘Then you should have known about the car. The one Clarence Spott was driving when Russo and Lodge pulled him over, the amazing vanishing car that was never heard about again.’ When he grinned at that, I continued. ‘Me, right from the first, I wanted to know what happened to that car. But you, Linus, you never even mentioned it.’
‘Is there a question here?’
‘I want to know what was in the car.’
‘Seed money. Or a commodity that could be turned into seed money.’
‘Seed money for what purpose?’
‘To buy Greenpoint Carton. The owner was an old man named Epstein. His kids didn’t want any part of the business and he was willing to sell cheap. It was an opportunity certain parties couldn’t resist.’
‘But not you?’
‘Not me.’
‘Glad to hear it. Now tell me what set off David Lodge. Tell me what he remembered. Being as you and Davy were such good friends, I’m sure he confided in you.’
‘He didn’t. The only story I got comes from Pete Jarazelsky, who I don’t consider a reliable source.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘According to Pete, what Davy remembered was spotting two cops sitting in a cruiser as he drove away from the first confrontation with Clarence Spott, the one that took place on Knickerbocker Avenue. These cops were double-parked a block away from the scene, in full view of the scuffle, but they didn’t back him up. He thought this was strange.’
‘I take it one of those cops was Pete Jarazelsky?’
‘Come to seize the loot, Harry, not rescue the drunk.’
‘And the other one? The other cop?’
‘If Davy even saw the other cop, he didn’t remember. Just as well.’
I sipped at my scotch, then twirled the glass on the table as I watched Mike fidget behind the bar. ‘I don’t want any trouble here,’ he declared.
Potter ignored the comment. ‘Your turn to confess,’ he said to me.
I looked up at Sparkle, at her pursed lips forever about to blow a kiss, and asked her for luck. What was apparent to me, by then, was that news of the grand jury investigation soon to begin had reached Linus Potter. He knew he was beaten, knew that it was only a matter of time before Pete Jarazelsky or Ellen Lodge gave him up.
‘Those phone calls you made, they helped the bad guys, not me and Adele. The first one had us looking for DuWayne Spott when we should have been sweating Ellen Lodge. We wasted the whole afternoon on that search. The second call directed us to Spott’s body, which of course, had to be found right away. The game plan called for the job to make a quick and easy decision. DuWayne Spott in close proximity to one of the TEC-9s that killed David Lodge? What could be simpler?’
‘And it worked, too.’
‘What can I say, Linus? You know your NYPD.’
Potter skillfully avoided the trap. ‘Not me, Harry. I didn’t say anything about me.’ He turned to Mike Blair and shouted, ‘Hey, you think I can get another Guinness here?’ When Blair’s only response was a narrowing of the eyes, Potter rose and did the job himself.
‘Did I ever tell you,’ he said, ‘that me and Davy, we both had a little problem with alcohol?’
‘Actually, you told me you kept him sober when you worked together.’
‘God, I’m such a fibber.’ He set down his mug, then raised his head. Potter’s blue eyes were slanted at the corners, though not as sharply as Adele’s. They’d appeared sad to me, the first time I’d looked into them, a quality now overshadowed by an unwavering stare that held whatever sorrow they revealed at a distance too great to be bridged. I saw anger, instead, and a trace of resignation. If he’d only been a little bit luckier. If only the first detectives to respond to David Lodge’s murder had been other than Harry Corbin and Adele Bentibi. If only, if only, if only.
‘If all you were after was the product in Clarence Spott’s car,’ I finally said, ‘why did you have to kill him?’
‘Excuse me, Harry, but you are once again employing the word you very freely. We’re still talkin’ theoretically here.’