“But you didn’t specifically identify her as a private detective.”
“Gee,” Corsetti said, “I don’t think so. We were just talking to Ms. Fishbein. I mean, you know, have you actually told us you’re a lawyer?”
I could see her mind begin to reexamine the word “jerk.” A young man with long, wavy blond hair came in with a tray and passed out cups and spoons and napkins. He put a large coffee carafe on the table and a pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar and sugar substitute. Doris poured coffee for us all.
When she finished, she said, “We’ll put Ms. Randall’s identity aside, for now, though should circumstance warrant, I can revisit it.”
Corsetti nodded eagerly.
“Sure,” he said.
“Is my client the object of a criminal investigation,” she said.
“Your client being Mr. Delk?” Corsetti said.
Doris looked annoyed.
“Obviously,” she said.
“Not Ms. Fishbein?” Corsetti said.
“Both are my clients,” Doris said. “Are they under investigation.”
“Sure,” Corsetti said.
“Tell me about it,” Doris said.
“A series of wire transfers from a purported charitable organization were authorized with the signature ‘July Fishbein.’ ”
“So?”
“The contributions figure in a murder investigation, and Ms. Fishbein denies any knowledge of the transactions.”
“So?” Doris said. “Why isn’t that sufficient?”
“Well, Ms. Fishbein is on the board of Bright Flower,” Corsetti said.
“I...” July started to speak.
Doris motioned for her to be quiet.
“Which seemed to come as a surprise to her,” Corsetti said. “And which me and Sonya, here, found sorta puzzling, too.”
“How so,” Doris said.
Corsetti looked at me.
“Your turn,” he said.
“If Ms. Fishbein is on the board and did authorize the wire transfers, then why is she lying about them?” I said. “And if she’s not on the board, and didn’t authorize the wire transfers, then how did her name get on the board, and who did authorize the wire transfers?”
“You have support for this?” Doris said.
Corsetti took a manila folder out of his briefcase and slid it across the conference table to her. She studied the contents carefully. I drank some coffee. Corsetti stirred his noisily. I could tell that it irritated Doris Katz. She took a long time, reading everything. When she was through reading, she pushed the folder back across the table to Corsetti.
“Do you have a theory?” she said.
“Well, Sonya and I been thinking about it,” Corsetti said, “and it seems to us likely that her husband used her name on the board of directors, and signed the wire transfers. Husbands and wives often have that kind of common-identity thing.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Harvey said.
“Harvey, please,” Doris said.
She looked thoughtfully at both of us.
“Why would he do that?” she said.
“Because he works for Lolly Drake,” I said. “And every time we go around a corner in this case, there she is.”
“Other than that sort of sequential coincidence,” Doris said, “have you anything concrete to implicate either my clients or Ms. Drake?”
“All the other women on the board of Bright Flower have husbands who work for Lolly Drake,” I said.
Doris paused for a moment. Then she said, “My question stands. Is there anything that proves anything?”
“Not yet,” Corsetti said.
“Then I suggest you leave my clients alone.”
“A handwriting analysis might firm things up a little,” Corsetti said.
Harvey Delk glanced at Doris. Doris ignored him.
“Handwriting analysis is an inexact science,” Doris said.
“Except when it clears your client,” Corsetti said. “We start pulling and tugging at this thing, and nothing good will come out of it for Mr. Delk or Ms. Fishbein or, for that matter, Lolly Drake.”
“My God,” Harvey Delk said. “You can’t...”
Doris cut him off with a hand gesture.
“Do you think either of my clients killed anyone?” Doris said.
“Jesus,” Harvey said.
“I doubt it,” Corsetti said.
“Then perhaps we have some room,” Doris said.
“Tell me,” Corsetti said.
“I’ll discuss it with my clients,” Doris said, “and get back to you.”
“Don’t take too long,” Corsetti said. “I don’t want to have to come in and cuff him on the set.”
“We will be expeditious,” Doris said. “And we won’t be intimidated.”
“You might be,” Corsetti said.
55
Rosie and I were at our table in the corner at Spike’s, waiting for my father. He was on time, as he always was. It was why I was early. Being on time was hard for me. I saw him shake hands with Spike when he came in. And Spike walked to my table with him. They didn’t really understand each other, but neither of them felt a need to. They both cared about me, and I knew that seemed sufficient to them. When she saw my father, Rosie jumped up onto the table and wagged so hard I thought she’d fall off. My father picked her up and placed his nose against hers and gazed into her eyes.
“Never let anyone,” he said to her, “tell you that you’re just a dog.”
Then he put her back down and kissed me on the forehead and sat down. Spike brought us menus. My father ordered a veal cutlet with linguine. I ordered a tuna-salad sandwich. We both ordered iced tea.
“So, little Ms. Gumshoe,” my father said. “Whaddya got so far?”
I told him carefully — repetitiously, I was sure, but everything I could remember of every detail. He listened without a word, his elbows on the table, his thick hands clasped in front of him under his chin. When I was through, he ate some veal cutlet and a forkful of linguine. Rosie watched him carefully. She knew her chances of a forbidden table snack were better with him than with me.
“We both know the story,” he said after a time.
“You think?” I said.
“Sure. You still have to prove it. But you know that Markham had an affair with Lolly Drake about a year before Sarah was born. You know that Sarah is receiving money monthly from a charitable foundation apparently run by the wives of men who work for Lolly Drake. You know that Lolly Drake’s lawyer hired some people to chase you off the case. You know that he got killed when you started looking into him. You know that when Markham finally did the DNA test, he was killed shortly thereafter.”
“But it showed he wasn’t her father.”
“I suspect that was as much of a surprise to him as to anybody,” my father said.
“You think it’s Lolly.”
“Of course it’s Lolly. She got knocked up, she may not even have known who, but she told Markham it was him, for whatever her reasons, and he raised the kid. She sent money. Then, as things worked out, she became this moral standard-bearer of the airwaves, the apostle of love and loyalty, and it might have been harmful to her image to have abandoned her illegitimate child to a man not even her father.”
I nodded.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I think.”
“It’s what any good cop would think,” my father said. “How’s this guy in New York, Corsetti?”
I smiled.
“I think he might be very good,” I said. “You first meet him and he looks like some kind of thuggish city cop who spends his off time in the weight room, and he seems like a dope. Then you watch him talk to people for a while, and they all underestimate him, and you realize all of a sudden that he’s found out a ton of stuff about them. He doesn’t miss anything, and he doesn’t forget anything.”
My father nodded.
“You think Corsetti knows?” my father said.