door had a translucent pane of glass in the top panel. It let in light, but you couldn’t see through it. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked. I recognized the door hardware—you could open it with a key, and it would still lock behind you. Made sense for Gabe Szwit.
I bumped the door with my shoulder to test its mettle. Its mettle was more than up to the task, so I went back down to the Grand Prix and got my little three-pound sledge and a cat’s paw that had a hardened wedge at the other end. I wrapped a piece of terry cloth around the cat’s paw, stuck the wedge in the door next to the doorknob and gave it a hearty smack.
The door gave it up on the second hit, swinging into a dark passageway that led to another door with a translucent panel. As I walked down the hall the inside door swung open and Gabe was standing there, his suit coat off and mouth agape.
“Oh dear God,” he said, looking at the sledge in my hand.
I came at him quickly, holding the hammer at eye level.
“Shut up and get back in there.”
He almost leaped back into the office as I followed him, shutting the door and throwing the deadbolt. We were in a tiny waiting room and Gabe was trying to punch a number into a black office phone that was on a side table next to a stack of
“Come on, keep going.”
He went through and I followed him. It was a standard lawyer’s office—sturdy walnut-veneered desk in the center of the room, shelves lined with law books, expensive carpet, Currier & Ives prints on the wall and the faint smell of cigars. There were two Hitchcock chairs in front of the desk with the seal of his alma mater, Boston University, stamped on the backrests. A desktop computer was on a work surface perpendicular to the desk, and a large credenza lined the wall behind, the surface of which was decorated with a pair of small aquariums. To the left, under a large bay window, was a red chesterfield. I pointed to it.
“Sit over there.”
“Have you lost your mind?” he asked.
“Yes. I have. You’re going to help me get it back.”
He kept his eyes on me as he backed into the couch and sat down. His face, usually tinted a faint green, had gone solid white.
“You’re going to jail,” he said as he sat down.
I pulled over one of the Hitchcock chairs.
“One of us is.”
He looked like he didn’t know whether to scream, clam up or pass out.
“You mind if I smoke?”
“Yes, I do.”
I took out a cigarette and lit it, leaning back in the Hitchcock and snatching a piece of pottery off the bookshelf to use as an ashtray.
“That’s a McCoy,” he said. “I’m calling the police.”
“Go ahead. While you’re doing that, I’ll call Appolonia.”
He stayed put on the couch, fear and fury in his eyes.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“To talk a minute.”
“You expect me to talk to you when you’re threatening me with a cudgel?”
I looked at the hammer.
“It’s a three-pound sledge. Here. You can have it.”
I tossed it in his lap. Half standing, he grabbed it with both hands and flung it to other side of the couch, as if I’d just popped it out of a kiln.
“Settle down,” I told him. “I just want to talk.”
“You could have made an appointment.”
“I just did. Does Appolonia know?”
“Know what?”
“Any of it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You lied about Butch Ellington. You said you never met him. You’ve known him all along.”
He sat a little straighter on the couch as he regained some of his professional poise.
“Who I know, or don’t know, is my concern.”
“Fair enough. I’ll just fill in the blanks myself and check it out directly with Appolonia.”
He didn’t like that.
“She loathes her brother-in-law,” he said. “I didn’t want her trust in me clouded by that association.”
“Nothing like a big lie to build trust.”
“Jonathan never found it necessary to reveal such a trivial thing. I presumed that was his wish and have merely honored it. And no one cared more about Appolonia’s well-being than him.”
“How about Belinda? She in on it, too?”
“Heavens no. And what difference could it possibly make? Is that all this is about? You break into my office, threaten and assault me, simply because I’ve preserved a client confidence?”
“Watch the allegations, Gabe. If I’m going down for assault anyway, I might as well bash you on the head and make it worth it.”
Whatever color had found its way back into his face drained off again.
“And all that legal crap doesn’t work with me. Part of my engineering training.”
“Crap?”
“Yeah, you’re already making your case. Won’t work with Appolonia either since it won’t change the fact you’re hiding your relationship with Butch. Which I can prove, so don’t waste our time practicing jury summations. You’re busted. Concentrate on what you want to do about it.”
“Do about it?” he asked, his voice getting hoarse, as if his throat was starting to constrict.
“Answer my questions or I’m leaving now and heading directly to Appolonia’s.”
“If I do, will you leave her alone?”
“You’ve know Butch since college. BU. Maybe before. When did you meet Jonathan?”
He looked away.
“About the same time.”
“Butch is the one who had the mother committed. Needed you for the legalities. Still does.”
“The parents split up when they were young. Butch lived with the mother, so he knew how troubled she was, how she’d never function safely on her own. That she belonged where she is now. Jonathan didn’t like it, but he acquiesced. Jonathan hardly knew her. He was raised by his father. Didn’t know enough to contest the decision. But he liked me administering the details. Didn’t trust Butch to do it properly.”
“Who pays the bills?” I asked.
“The bills?”
“Who pays the Sisters of Mercy?”
He looked reluctant to answer the question, thinking about it longer than he should have.
“Arthur. Butch. He always sent the checks. I didn’t question it. No need.”
“No. I suppose not. As long as she was looked after. Butch was more her kid, if you think about it. Whatever happened to Arthur Senior?”
“Their father? I don’t know.”
“The cops think he’s dead.”
“Then I suppose he is. They should know.”
“Where’d they live, Jonathan and his father?”
Gabe finally let himself sit back in the sofa, looking a little less braced for an imminent blow.
“What difference does it make?” he asked.
