“Joe Pritchard, of course.” Gajovich shook hands with Joe as if my partner had been sculpted from pure gold. “You’re a law enforcement legend in this city. A pleasure to finally meet you.” He turned to me and offered a limp hand. “And Lincoln Perry. I think I remember hearing about you, too.”
“Got booted from the force for a night of drunken disorderly conduct and an assault on one of our better-known attorneys,” I said helpfully. Hate to be forgotten.
Gajovich managed a smile. “I wasn’t sure of the circumstances, and I doubt they’re the reason for your visit now, so we don’t have to get into it.”
“Right.”
“Come on back into my office and we’ll have a talk. I’m really swamped today, but I promised Amy I’d clear a few minutes.” He winked at her, and I wanted to kick him in the ass.
We went back into an office that wasn’t particularly impressive aside from a gold-embossed nameplate on the desk that looked as if it weighed thirty pounds.
“Say, Amy, who’s this new reporter covering the city beat?” Gajovich said, sitting down behind his desk and stretching his arms behind his head. He was in his late forties but looked ten years younger, with tousled blond hair and freckles that gave him a bit of Tom Sawyer charm. He was smooth and confident, and despite his leering at Amy I could see why people tended to like him. His bearing suggested a genuine quality, and in government and administrative circles that’s not something you see every day. If and when he made a run for the mayor’s office, I wasn’t going to bet against him.
“Andrew?” Amy said. “He got promoted from features. Why, don’t you like him?”
Gajovich grinned at Joe and me. “Can he spell my name right? If so, then we’re good.”
He laughed, and we all joined in, as that was clearly the thing to do.
“Hell,” Joe said. “Could you blame him if he couldn’t?”
We all laughed some more then, just yucking it up to start this meeting.
“So I should probably be nervous,” Gajovich said, leaning forward.
“Why?” Joe said.
“Two private investigators and a reporter? You kidding me? This is a threatening group.” He gave us the grin again, and we all returned it. My face was already starting to ache. In my business we don’t do so much smiling so early in the day. “What’s on your minds?”
Amy turned in her chair and motioned to me. “It’s really Lincoln’s show. I’m along for the ride.”
“Well, let me have it,” Gajovich said, still showing us his perfect teeth. We’d put him in such a good mood that some lucky bastard was probably going to get a plea bargain this morning.
“Do you know a guy named Ed Gradduk?” I said.
The smile dissipated slowly, ice melting in the sun.
“Ed Gradduk,” I repeated when he didn’t answer.
Gajovich let out a sigh that nearly cleared his desk of paperwork and leaned back in his chair. “You mean the murderer?”
“I mean the guy who got run over by one of Cleveland’s finest last night,” I said. “Far as I know, nobody’d convicted him of murder yet. Or is that not required around here?”
“Getting fired in disgrace didn’t do a whole lot to change your attitude, did it?” Gajovich said.
“I got fired quite a while ago, and that’s got nothing to do with why we’re here.” Even as I spoke, I was amazed at how quickly the tone had changed. I mentioned Gradduk’s name; Gajovich and I were adversaries. That fast, that simple.
He looked at Amy. “You know, I would have appreciated it if you’d given me an idea of what to expect here.”
She spread her hands. “Hell, Mike, I didn’t know what to expect. I’m just an interested observer.”
For a minute no one said anything. When the silence was broken, it was by Joe.
“So I’m confused. Where’s the hostility coming from?”
Gajovich didn’t look away from me. “There’s no hostility,” he said. “Sorry if I gave that impression. Here’s the deaclass="underline" I’m not a big fan of this Gradduk fellow. He came into my office not long ago with some crazy idea, criticized me for not supporting him, and a few weeks later I find out he’s an arsonist and a killer.”
“What crazy idea did he come to you with?” I said.
“That’s what you’re here for?” Gajovich said.
“Yes.”
“And what’s your interest?”
“That of a concerned friend and citizen. You know, one of those taxpayers who provides your salary. And one who plans to vote in the next election.”
He ran a hand through that boyish blond hair and smiled at me, but there was no Tom Sawyer in it this time. “I’m not a guy to screw with, Perry.”
“Didn’t come in here with the intention of screwing with anybody. Came here with a pretty simple question.”
“You know,” Gajovich said, “a lot of people forget that I am still a practicing attorney. That’s what a prosecutor is, of course, an attorney. And people also forget that any legal conversations I have are protected by attorney/client privilege. They’re private.”
“Including the one you had with Ed Gradduk,” Joe said.
Gajovich nodded. “Yes. I don’t know what Gradduk told you, or what you heard. And I don’t really care. Here’s what I do know, and what I do care about: Gradduk was a criminal. He came in here with a record, and when I sent him away, he promptly went out and killed somebody. I regret that he was killed in that accident, and not just because it was an embarrassing moment for our police force. I regret that he was killed because it robbed me of the opportunity to see him prosecuted, to see him put back where he belonged.”
“Hard-nosed,” I said. “That’ll appeal to the voters. You might pound on your desk with your fist, though. Add a little emphasis.”
“Go to hell,” Mike Gajovich told me.
For a long time we all sat there and said nothing, just traded stares. Outside, a printer was grinding away and women were laughing.
“I suppose this is the end of our meeting,” Amy said at last.
“I suppose so,” Joe answered when Gajovich didn’t.
They got to their feet, but I stayed where I was, meeting the prosecutor’s glare. Joe had his hand on the doorknob when Gajovich finally spoke again.
“I heard there was a stack of charges pushed under the rug for you in that Weston fiasco, Perry.”
“People say the craziest things,” I said.
“A situation like that can get messy.”
“He threatens without threatening,” I said. “Damn, but you are savvy, Mr. Gajovich. A politician’s politician, I’d say.”
“If I were you, I’d go back to your office and leave this one alone. That’s all I’ll say. Gradduk was a loser, Perry. So I’m not surprised to hear he was your friend. But losers don’t have power, and losers don’t attract sympathy from people who do have power. They attract trouble and then they’re stomped out. You remember that.”
CHAPTER 7
Amy went back to work and Joe and I went back to the office. I spent most of the ride burning over Gajovich’s words, but even while they’d angered me, they’d helped me. I knew now I was going to have to return Scott Draper’s call, after all. My knowledge of Ed’s life effectively ended seven years before he died. I needed to talk to someone who’d been close to him, and Draper was the best option I had.
“Lincoln,” Draper said when I identified myself, “thanks for calling me back, man. I wanted to apologize. That thing in the street, it was bullshit. The cops told me what happened, told me you didn’t push him. From my angle, it looked like something it wasn’t. Still, I should have better sense than to pull shit like that. I’m sorry.”