Page 40 of Witness 8

‘Same spot. You want to tell me what’s going on?’

‘Nope.’

Swirling the liquor in his glass, Harry said, ‘You know Lake already told me and Kate.’

I swept my feet off the desk, said, ‘I didn’t want to worry you. And I trusted him to be discreet.’

‘Discreet? Lake?’

I nodded, said, ‘You wearing your old Colt?’

‘It’s in my desk drawer. Going to wear it when we go home. When are we going home, by the way?’

I shook my head, finished the cold coffee in my mug.

‘I don’t know, Harry. We need to wait for Bloch.’

‘She just pulled up outside.’

A few minutes later, Bloch and Lake came into the office.

‘There’s a red pick-up outside with two guys in leather biker gear in the front. They look twitchy and they’re watching this building. Getting ready to make a move when that patrol car moves off,’ said Bloch.

‘It seems as though Harry and Kate know all about this,’ I said.

‘I told them,’ said Lake. ‘It kinda slipped out. What do you want to do?’

‘I don’t know yet. Tell me what happened tonight,’ I said.

Lake and Bloch exchanged a look.

‘Bloch found what looks like a secret cell phone in Margaret Blakemore’s sock drawer. It’s with our lab techs downtown. We should know more in a couple of days. They have to break into the phone. After we left the house there was a lady down the street, taking some interest in our visit. Nice lady, a real gossip. Her name is Petra Schwartzman. Been a resident for a long time,’ said Lake.

He pulled out one of my office chairs, took off his messenger bag and dumped it on the table. Lake’s suit looked as if someone else had worn it when they’d died in their sleep, and Lake had taken it from the corpse. His foot tapped on the floor and hescratched at his dark, curly hair. Bloch moved to the window, stood beside Harry so she could keep an eye on the street.

‘Lake said Petra said Margaret had a string of affairs. Her marriage has been open for many years. Her husband Alan knew all about Margaret’s steady stream of gentlemen callers. None of them Jackson.’

‘Did she give you any names?’ asked Harry.

‘Lake said two. She says one of them was a long-time affair. Guy named Todd Ellis. Margaret broke up with him about a year ago, but the guy wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently, he has anger issues. Eventually Margaret called Ellis’s wife and told her about the affair. Still this asshole wouldn’t give up. He patched things up with the wife, let things settle and then Margaret took him back. Second guy is Brett Bale, single, filthy rich like Ellis. String of divorces and guess what?’

‘What?’ I asked.

‘He is suspected of drowning one of his wives. The last one,’ said Bloch.

I sat forward, grabbed a pen and began to tumble it across my knuckles. An old cannon’s trick. It keeps the fingers supple, dexterous, light enough not to notice when they dip into someone’s pocket.

‘If Jackson didn’t kill Margaret, we need to be able to point to an alternative suspect,’ I said. ‘A jury will need that. I wonder if the cops interviewed any of these guys about their relationship with the victim. If they did, they’ll want to bury those interviews. It doesn’t suit their case right now. They’ve got their man – our client. We need to take a look at these two.’

Lake nodded, ‘These men have serious money. Both are extremely wealthy and no doubt well protected. It won’t be easy.’

I nodded, fell into silent thought.

‘We’ve got bigger problems right now. Those bikers in the truck outside aren’t waiting for a pizza. Do we stay here all night hoping they leave?’ asked Lake.

I let the pen fall to the desk. Leaned back in my chair, and spoke slowly, ‘I thought about that, but I’m not going to be a prisoner in my own office. The cop in the front passenger seat of the patrol car is Sergeant Ben Gray. He’s part of New York’s Finest. I recognized him when I first saw the car. When I set one foot outside the door his car is going to drive away. That’s the signal for the bikers to come out shooting and I’ll be dead in the street.’

‘Jesus,’ said Harry.