Page 41 of Requiem

Jeremy 15

Maybe it’s the change in scenery, but Glenn Garibaldi appears more impressive in Detroit than in New York. It’s costing me a small fortune to get him here, but he’s the only guy I trust to do what I want him to do, no matter how distasteful it might be.

We take the elevator up to the executive floor of the Detroit Concert Hall, and I show him the way to the conference room where we’ve been asked to meet. And there, already sweating a river, is Dipshit Doug. Sitting next to him is the guy I recognize as the Detroit Philharmonic’s legal counsel, Brady something or other. And doesn’t he look precious in his Brooks Brothers suit and tie? The two lawyers exchange greetings and I learn that his last name is Bell. Seriously? Brady Bell? I feel like I’ve walked into a low budget porn flick.

We sit down and Lisa comes in with a carafe of coffee, setting it down with some mugs in the middle of the table. She makes a point of dropping something on the floor and grabs my thigh under the table. I stifle a smile and try not to get myself too … excited. When she leaves the room, Brady opens his folder, scans it, and looks up with a smile.

“Mr. Corrigan, do you know Jimmy Woo?”

“Please, call me Jeremy, Braaaady,” I say, putting emphasis on his pansy ass name. “Of course I know Jimmy. He delivers Chinese food. A lot of the orchestra members have it ordered in the night of a concert when they can’t get home for dinner before the show.”

“I see. And have you had any dealings with him outside of that context?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s just that we believe he stole Jennifer Ruiz’s instrument and then tried to pawn it.”

What? He said someone else tried to pawn it. That little motherfucker!

“Wow. I’m surprised. He seems like such a good kid,” I feign surprise.

“Mr. Corrigan – Jeremy – he claims you paid him two-hundred dollars to take the horn from the hall and put it in a dumpster on the other side of town.”

Dead. He is so fucking dead.

“Well, that’s bullshit. Obviously, he’s scared, and he’s just desperate to find a way out of trouble.”

Brady Bell nods thoughtfully. “The thing is …” he begins as he opens the laptop he brought in with him. “The thing is that we have surveillance footage from the hall and neighboring businesses that would appear to show you speaking with Jimmy.”

Before I can respond, he hits a key, and there I am. Blurry and black and white, but it’s me alright. Talking to Jimmy that night after he took the horn, and then there I am in the alley with him. Fuck me!

He’s watching me for a reaction, but I’m expressionless. He’s waiting for an explanation, but I don’t offer one.

“How do you explain that?” he finally asks.

Glenn, who’s been jotting notes on a legal pad looks up.

“There’s nothing to explain. My client knows Jimmy, he’s spoken to Jimmy. What else do you need to know?”

“So, you’re denying that this footage has anything to do with the missing horn?”

“Do you see the missing horn anywhere in that footage?” Glenn queries.

Brady sits back and considers both Glenn and me carefully.

“How do you explain the exchange of money in that first clip?”

“Is that money? Looks a little grainy to me,” Glenn comments, almost before Brady can finish asking the question.

Brady sighs in frustration. Good, I’m starting to get on his nerves.

“So, you’re denying any involvement in the missing instrument?”

“Absolutely,” I declare confidently.