Page 8 of Witness 8

‘It was luck,’ I said. ‘I know you’ve got that weapon for protection, but it’s gone now. Trust me – you’re safer without it.’

‘I know. I’m sorry, Eddie. Thank you for this.’

We hugged it out, and then Jayden and Smokehouse bounced out of the back doors.

I met Denise and our four tow truckers in the lobby.

‘Good job,’ I said, and gave each of them a hundred bucks.

‘Do we get to keep the overalls?’ said Bugs.

Bugs wore one of the gray uniforms. Denise said her sewing skills weren’t what they used to be, and the badge on this pair of overalls was crooked, with black threads trailing from it.

‘Sure. Keep the overalls and the boots. Just don’t go pretending to be tow-truck drivers. And take off the badges.’

Bugs, Karl, Johnny and Little Sacks pulled the badges off the overalls I’d bought on eBay last week. I’d represented Bugs some years back on a breaking-and-entering charge. One in a long line of missteps. He promised if he got another chance he would change. I got him off, didn’t charge him a cent and we became friends. I helped out Bugs and his pals whenever I could. Usually Bugs and the guys hung out at the Bowery Mission in Tribeca, a homeless shelter that was fast becoming a regular home.

‘If you want lunch, you know my tab is always open at Lexi’s Deli on 10th.’

‘I think we might stretch to a grilled cheese today, if that’s alright, Eddie?’

‘Whatever you guys need.’

Being homeless in any city is tough. In New York, it’s hell. But Bugs was proud. Even though I told him he and his pals could eat every day at the deli, on me, they only went occasionally. Didn’t want to exploit any kind of generosity – no matter how small.

‘Thanks, guys. We couldn’t have done it without you,’ said Denise.

We watched Bugs and his pals pocket the cash, and leave the court building with something of a spring in their step.

‘You’re a lousy seamstress,’ I said.

‘You should try my cooking,’ said Denise.

‘No, thanks. You brought me leftover meatloaf last month. Do you remember?’

‘Not my finest piece of cooking.’

‘I disagree. It’s great. It’s still holding open that heavy door to the office storeroom.’

Denise laughed, punched me in the arm. We started to follow Bugs toward the exit.

‘I meant to ask, how did you get Sergeant Gray’s arrest records and towing information?’ she said.

I opened my leather messenger bag, took out the two bundles of documents.

I held both bundles aloft, then dumped them in a garbage basket as we walked past. ‘Two Xeroxed copies of the TV Guide for last December.’

Right then, Denise stopped, reached into her jacket.

Her phone was ringing. Mine was still switched off.

She took the call, listened, hung up and said, ‘Kate needs you back at the office right now. She’s caught a whale.’

A whale, in legal terms, is a client with extremely deep pockets.

‘What’s he on the line for? Divorce?’

Denise shook her head, said, ‘Murder.’