“That’s what she calls me. I’m still learning the ropes.”
“Come, now, Mr. Cooperman, you’re being too modest. I suspect that that befuddled manner of yours proves very useful on occasions.” I hadn’t expected that, and I couldn’t wait to hear what I was going to say in response.
“You’re well informed, Mr. Bosco. No sense asking who your moles inside NTC are, I guess.”
“You know as well as I that a blown mole is no mole at all, Mr. C. Now why don’t you tell me the real reason for this visit. Does it have anything to do with the agreements represented in these contracts?”
“You know the answer to that. Maybe it has to do with a red Volvo, somewhat the worse for wear, that keeps turning up like a dirty penny. Maybe it has to do with a photograph I have of Roger Cavanaugh accepting a T-shirt from the friendly people of Orillia a few weeks ago.”
Bosco looked stunned. It wasn’t a passing expression that flickered across his face. When it hit him, it stayed there, unfocused, poleaxed. He’d known that it would come one day, but he hadn’t expected it to come today, and not from me. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, getting to his feet. Without looking back to see if I was following him, he hurried down the corridor and around the bend to the waiting area, where he told the receptionist to hold his calls and reschedule all of his meetings for the next two hours.
“But, Mr. Bos-”
“All of them!”
“What about Ms. Slopen? You invited her to lunch!”
“Send her a dozen long-stemmed roses. Make it two dozen. Tell her I’ll call as soon as I can. Tell Mr. Devlin-”
“What should she tell Mr. Devlin?” Raymond Devlin had stepped out of his office into the reception area. Bosco looked like he’d been goosed. Then, recovering, he smiled at the senior partner.
“I’m stepping out of the office for-”
“For two hours. I heard you loud and clear. What’s this about? Hello there, Mr. Sugarman, isn’t it? From Vanessa Moss’s office?”
“Yes, Mr. Cooperman just brought over the matted contracts from NTC.”
“Good of you, Mr. Cooperman. Sorry about your name; I still have some ragged edges left over from when this was a one-man operation. Back then, I was something of a fire-engine chaser. But I wasn’t very good at it because I couldn’t remember names. People told me I should settle for a less adventurous brand of law. I think they were right. Anyway, what’s this all about, Barry?”
“Just a few minor glitches in the details of the reception tomorrow, Raymond. The hotel had a few logistical problems. Security; things like that. We’ll be able to sort it out over coffee around the corner. I think it’s important that things should run smoothly tomorrow.”
“Well, better you than me, Barry. I’ll see you later. Good afternoon, Mr. Cooperman.” He was about to step back into his office, and Barry Bosco had recovered a little.
“I’ll speak to you as soon after five as I can, Raymond. The Cluny and Lorringer files are on my desk. We have to see Mr. Murphy about the Levitt business. Could you be free next Thursday after lunch?” Devlin emitted a golden smile and waved five fingers as he retreated to his desk. The young receptionist, however, was obviously flustered and Bosco saw this. “Esmé, don’t bother to cover for me. Go to lunch; let the machines do the work.”
“Yes, Mr. Bosco.”
Fifteen minutes later, Bosco and I were seated in a booth in a Chinese restaurant called the Champion House. It specialized in serving Peking duck and announced the coming of each duck from the kitchen by sounding a gong. Although the restaurant looked tidy and comfortable, the patrons repaid the good food and service by writing their thanks on the wallpaper. On the wall behind Bosco, I could make out: “Greeeeaaat duck!! You did it again. Blessings and thanks, Alabama and Stan, Mel and Lorne, Port Alberni, B.C.” Bosco ordered a plate of Chinese vegetables and some sliced duck. The waiter brought a big pot of green tea.
“Okay, let’s have it,” Bosco said. “I want to know what you know. Then tell me your price.”
“I’m not buying or selling. I’m collecting the facts, just like old Joe Friday on TV.”
“You’ve talked to Roger? Shit! You can’t trust anybody!”
“Look, if we’re going to get anywhere, let’s not cut the ribbon before we build the bridge. No, I haven’t talked to Roger, but I recognized him in the Orillia photographs. He must have been crazy to stick by the alibi he provided for you. I’ve never heard of a more harebrained scheme. I mean, talk about stupid. The pair of you. You both could lose your licences. Hell, with the murder, you could both be facing prison. How did you shut him up when Renata was murdered?”
“Like everybody else around here, he wants into the charmed circle. He’s a good trial lawyer and will be an asset to the firm, so I’m not introducing dead weight to the partners.”
“Save me your rationalization. I just want the why and wherefore.”
“I’ve felt like a hit-and-run driver since it happened.”
“So you got him to cover for you on the night of the murder.”
“It didn’t start out as the night of the murder! It was just a Monday-night talk. Christ, you have to see that.” He moved a hand through his hair, checking to see that it was all there. “All he had to do was drive to Orillia and read my speech.”
“But how did you keep him quiet when they found Renata dead? Suddenly it had become more complicated.”
“Promises. I made him promises, just as I said.”
“Okay, now the big one: where did you go that night?”
“I could lie to you.”
“Yeah, and you could stand mute. But I have a hunch that you want this thing cleared up. You went to see Renata, didn’t you?”
“You’re leading.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Yes. Oh, yes; God, yes!”
“Tell me about it.” He looked at the ceiling, then around at the three remaining diners in the place. Nobody was looking at him.
“I got there at eight. She cooked dinner. We ate it. Do I have to tell you this? We made love in her room. Is that what you want to hear? You want to know what it was like? Sorry, Cooperman, but you’re pushing me, and I don’t like it.”
“Just tell me.”
“Later, we did the dishes, you know? — and talked. We had a lot to talk about. About us, I mean. Things hadn’t been going all that well.”
“Did you arrange to meet her or was it the other way around?”
“She phoned me at the office; said she had to see me. It was important, she said.”
“Did she get to the subject?”
“No. She did say that she thought she was being followed. She was nervous. We’d gone from the kitchen to the living-room; she was leading up to something she wanted to tell me. I could tell, but before she could get launched, the doorbell rang.”
“Go on.”
“She got up, said that she’d be back in a minute. Before I could pick up the paper, I heard Renata’s voice. At first it was indistinct and then it built into a scream. I can still hear it in my head. I won’t ever get that sound out of my head. Then I heard the gun go off. Just the two blasts, one right after the other. Almost at the same time. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds after she left me sitting there.”
“You heard the scream and then the gunshots, right?”
“Yes. I thought I’d said that.”
“What did you do?”
“I’m ashamed. I’m so ashamed!”
“I’m not your priest. Just tell me.”
“I hid behind the couch. I thought he was going to come into the room and get me too.”
“You were sure it was a man?”
“At the time I was. I don’t know why. I guess it could have been a woman.”
“And you forgot that he or she had to reload the gun after firing both barrels?”
“I didn’t see the gun. It could have been a pump action. But I wasn’t thinking straight. I hid, sitting on the floor. Behind the couch.”