“Julie’s a lot of fun until you cross her. Wise is too cool a dude to forget that. She knows how to use a gun. Did you know that?’ She shoots with the experts.”
“So far there’s only one shot, and it missed. If she’s such a hot shot with a gun, that tends to put her in the clear.”
“Maybe she was trying to warn him, or give him a scare?”
“Could be. But whoever put that shot across his desk knew what he was doing. The slug landed in the hutch in the room where we first talked.” Mickey whistled and made a face. It didn’t mean anything in particular, just that he was processing the information. I expected a “Please wait” sign to flash across his forehead.
“Cooperman, I can’t figure you out. You said you wanted to ask me a few questions, but you’ve said more than I have. Why are you being so free and easy with the information? How do you know I’m not the bad guy? Maybe I’ve got reasons of my own for puffing Wise away for good.”
“I’ve thought of that, Mickey. It wouldn’t be the first time that a big hood was removed to make way for new blood. I guess I’m taking a chance on you. Have to start somewhere. You and Paulette seem to be firm ground. But that’s instinct talking, not my head. If my head worked better than the itch I get at the back of my knees, I might be in some safer line of work. Why don’t you do me a favour and have another cigarette?”
Mickey grinned a genuine grin and reached into his pocket. When the cigarette was going, he gave me a welcome puff in the face. “Tell me, who is there besides Dave Rogers that Wise trusts?”
“Well, there’s me. Only he just gives me the gist of things. The only time I ever had a real heart-to-heart with him was the time I found out there was somebody on the other side of the door he didn’t want to talk to in a hurry. He tells some tall tales, you know. I sometimes think that he makes up a lot of what he says. Imagine that! Him! Abe Wise!”
“Give me a for-instance.”
“Like the time he told me that he once got away with murder. I don’t mean recently in a business way, but a face-to-face sort of thing. He usually boasts that he’s never harmed a fly. That’s why he’s survived in the rackets so long. But he told me he killed and got away clear. Another time he said that he had won a sports-car rally when he was in his twenties. Hell, when he was in his twenties, he couldn’t afford to belong to the clubs that run those rallies. I know that because another time he told me how hard up he was when he was just getting started. Used to make his money with a hammer and chisel working the better-off neighbourhoods for hidden jewellery and cash. I checked out some of those neighbourhoods. Hell, if they looked good to him, he was starting below the bottom. He doesn’t look like a burglar today, does he?”
“I think you like the guy, Mickey.”
“He treats me okay. I got no complaints. He’s always behaved decent to Victoria and me. Never made a fuss when she came to live with me in the house after we got married. I think he’s a little soft on the two of us.”
“You can’t say the same about his feelings for that cop who died this week.”
“Neustadt? He hated that crooked cop. If Wise was ever moved to kill anybody, it would have been that son of a bitch!”
“Why him more than the next cop?”
“Something between the two of them. He never told me. You better ask him next time you come up to the house.”
“I’ll remember that. One more thing: what’s behind Wise’s office? I couldn’t see in the dark.”
“Just the garage. It’s a big one. Fits six cars.”
“Thanks, Mickey. You’ve been a big help.” I couldn’t stop myself shrugging after I said this. “But, you understand, it’s too early to know for sure. If you want to help keep Abe Wise alive, beef up your security at the house. Break up his routines, rearrange his schedules at the last moment.”
“I know my job, Mr. Cooperman!”
I caught the last gasp of smoke in my hungry lungs and opened the door. On parting, we each nodded politely, like we were passing in the street and weren’t sure of the other’s name.
ELEVEN
The restaurant Wellington Court was literally just around the corner from where I’d talked to Paulette Staples, Wise’s first wife. His second wasn’t waiting for me when I asked for my table inside this converted house a chilly block away from the business centre of town. To my right, as I sat facing the door, were a series of bright watercolours of doorways and window sills in some sunny Mediterranean setting. The bar, not far from the door, looked, at first glance, like it never served anything stronger than a Shirley Temple, but a closer examination showed that it stocked all the standard items, with a few locally brewed beers thrown in.
When she came in, I could see that she had spotted me right away. She started over to my table, but was sidetracked by a shout from a woman in a blue outfit with enough salad in a bowl in front of her to keep her and her best friends fed for a month. The woman introduced Lily to the woman with her. They laughed together. They laughed again and then Lily continued towards me. Lily Wise was a small woman who looked like she might boast that she still weighed what she had when she was twenty-five. She now looked fifty, was lean and well taken care of. I could picture her doing aerobics in a black leotard, while an off-stage voice counted off the stretches. She wore glasses with thick lenses and pale blue frames. Her hair looked like it had been cropped short by someone who knew what he was doing. There were strands of white mixed in with the prevailing black. I could picture her on committees, working with people, managing things.
“Mr. Cooperman?” she asked as I started getting up. When I was on my feet she added: “Don’t get up,” and I relaxed back into my chair again. She sloughed a mink coat which she draped over the back of her chair like it was off the rack. Some people are sensitive about wearing furs nowadays; apparently not Lily Wise. She rubbed her glasses with tissue and a waiter brought her a red drink. “They know me here,” she explained. “That’s why they indulge my passion for Campari. Are you having something?”
“I just got here myself, Mrs. Wise.”
“You better call me Lily or Lilian. I’m not all that fond of my married name.”
“That’s what Paulette said.”
“One of the things we agree about.” I invited Lily to use my given name too, but she looked like she had a bitter almond in her mouth when I told her what it was. “Actually, Paulette and I agree about a lot of things.” I decided to try out the drink she was sipping. When it came, I enjoyed its astringent tartness, like the drink was sucking my cheeks from the inside. We both ordered our lunch: Lily, a quiche with a salad and I, a fancy pasta with vegetables. As long as Wise was picking up the tab, I thought I could experiment. It proved to be pretty good, a better choice than Lily’s. At least I ate mine, she just played with hers as though eating wasn’t something she approved of. While we were eating, she told me about her years of teaching before she met Wise. She grew up in Toronto and had that Toronto certainty about her.
“Well, Mr. Cooperman. Time to put away the table chat and get down to business. What do you want to know?”
“How much did Paulette tell you?”
“Somebody’s trying to kill Abe and you’re trying to stop it.”
“Good. Do you have any candidates?”
“There was a time when I had reason enough, but I’ve mellowed with the years. I don’t know who he’s in bed with these days. She might be worth talking to. Intimacy breeds the killer instinct, I find.”
“As far as I know, he’s not with anybody. I mean, there’s a woman in the house, but she’s married to Mickey Armstrong.”
“That would be Victoria. I’ve heard a lot about Victoria. From what I’ve heard, she’s not the compliant type. Nor is Mickey. No, I think you can rule her out as Abe’s bedroom companion at least. She may have a reason for killing him, but I doubt if the reason would be sexual. Are there just the three of them living there?”