there.
“Did you know about this?” Karp asked.
Guma shook his head. “Nah, I was just grabbing a bite to eat at a Chinese place across the park when Murrow called with the news. Apparently, Anderson wants to meet to give us this apparently earth-shattering information.”
The three prosecutors sidled closer to the back of the press herd to listen to the “impromptu” press conference. Anderson was talking and they caught him in midsentence. “-produce a witness, Mr. Dante Coletta, who is standing here to my right.” The lawyer nodded to Coletta, who glared at the crowd. “However, you have caught me between a rock and a hard place as I intend to honor the gag order imposed by Judge Lussman. That being said, if the district attorney insists on proceeding with this ludicrous case, suffice it to say that Mr. Coletta will set matters straight in court as to the real killer of Teresa Aiello Stavros nearly fifteen years ago.”
Anderson turned to go but paused to allow the press to shout after him. “Mr. Anderson! Mr. Anderson!” the young blond reporter shouted. She had thus far resisted his attempts for “a quiet dinner someplace where I might be able to illuminate some of the more complex issues surrounding this case.”
He sighed as if he were being dragged back against his will but pointed to the reporter. “Yes, Jeanne?” he said. “One last question.”
“Mr. Anderson, does your witness have any evidence to prove that what he is saying is true?”
Anderson paused and gave her his best “I know what I’m doing here and aren’t you impressed” smile. “Let’s just say Mr. Coletta was present when Mrs. Stavros was cruelly murdered by someone other than my client,” he answered, then turned forcefully on his Guccis and strode into the building.
The press was left with Rachel Rachman, who was dressed, as usual, in loud colors…today purple and a sort of Granny Smith apple green. “Ms. Rachman do you have any comment?” a decidedly less interested press asked.
Rachman glared over the reporters’ heads at Karp, which had the effect of turning some cameras his way. “I hesitate to comment on an ongoing case-” she said.
“Then don’t,” Guma muttered.
“-but this sort of rush to judgment, coupled with political gamesmanship that should have no part in the actions taken by the New York DAO, is exactly why I decided to run for this office,” Rachman says. “We have murders, rapes, and other violent crimes every day, but our current district attorney is more interested in making headlines with a fifteen-year-old case aimed at destroying a man who dared to speak out by supporting a candidate who wants to bring integrity back to the once-proud tradition of the DAO. I say shame on Mr. Karp for jumping into this tar baby with both feet before he had all the facts…”
“Let’s go,” Karp said, ignoring the cameras and shouted questions from the press as he walked through them up the stairs.
“Shit fuck your sister, what’s your answer, Karp?” Dirty Warren yelled. “You got ten seconds or I win!”
Karp turned, his face stern. Even the press went quiet. Then he smiled.
“Ah, shit!” Warren howled, having seen the smile before.
“False,” Karp shouted. “There were notes with Brando’s lines all over the sets, but it wasn’t because he forgot his lines. He didn’t read scripts beforehand because he thought his first read was the best one. So notes with his lines were placed where he could see them during filming.”
“Aaaaaahhhhhh, piss!” Warren said stamping his feet.
Karp saluted with his index finger to his brow and turned, walking into the building followed by Murrow and Guma, who were smiling like their boss had just won an argument before the U.S. Supreme Court. They all stopped smiling when they saw the reporter who stood blocking their way.
“Hi, honey!” Gilbert said. “I didn’t think you were getting in until tonight.”
“Hi, baby,” Ariadne Stupenagel said. “I was jonesing for my Gilbert the Great, so I caught an earlier flight. Just in time to learn that you’ve been holding out on me with the latest Karp and company caper. I’m about to go home to your apartment where I intend to slowly undress this magnificent body in front of a mirror before I step into a blazingly hot shower where I intend to lather up every last curve and crevice-”
“I didn’t need to hear that,” Karp said.
“I did,” Guma and Murrow replied in something of a lather themselves.
Ariadne Stupenagel was one of Marlene’s former college roommates. Probably the best freelance newshound in New York City-and elsewhere as she traveled the globe, most recently London to chase a story about Islamic extremist imams in the wake of the bombings. She was six foot and a bit, which made her a head taller than her boyfriend, and built-as she herself described-for lust. She bedded the rich and powerful in her time, as well as (“regrettably”) Guma, but for reasons beyond Karp’s ken, she’d seemed to settle on Murrow.
“Well, Gilbert,” she said, ignoring Guma, “if you hurry home, you might get to watch. But first, I need to put on my reporter hat…so a comment, please, on Ms. Rachman’s speech out there.” She pulled a tape recorder microphone out of her purse and shoved it toward Karp, but Murrow stepped in between.
“Not withstanding Ms. Rachman’s grandstanding in a court matter that is none of her business, it is the policy of the New York DAO to seek justice in front of a jury consisting of honest, hardworking citizens of Manhattan, not in front of the press. Ms. Rachman was released by this office for a reason…a reason, I meant to say, that I am not at liberty to discuss. But let’s just say a leopardess does not change her spots or a skunk her stripes.”
“Murrow,” Karp growled though inwardly he was thinking, Nice zingers, Gilbert. “I think that’s quite enough. Welcome back, Ariadne.”
An hour later, they were sitting in the DAO meeting room with Bryce Anderson and Dante Coletta. “Just in case your mind was not closed, and you were willing to take the blinders off-”
“Save the speeches, Bryce, the press ain’t here,” Guma said.
Anderson looked at Guma like he was looking at a bum and returned his gaze to Karp. “As I was saying, we’re here so that you can listen to Mr. Coletta’s version of what happened and judge for yourself whether to accept his story or we can wait until he testifies for the defense.”
Karp looked at Guma. “Well, Ray, you want to hear this guy out or should we savage him on the witness stand or both?”
Coletta, who’d been sprawled in his chair smiling, sat up with a scowl. “We’ll see who savages who.”
“Whom,” Guma corrected him
“Huh?”
“Never mind, I take it they didn’t require English grammar as part of the GED you received in prison, according to your records,” Guma said, looking at the file he’d asked Murrow to pull while they stalled Anderson and Coletta.
“If this is going to turn into an insult contest, we’re out of here,” Anderson said, making a move as if to stand.
Karp put his hand up and motioned for him to remain seated. “I think Mr. Guma, who is lead counsel for the prosecution in this case, would love to hear Mr. Coletta’s ‘version of the events.’ Mr. Guma?”
“Yeah, let’s hear it,” Guma confirmed.
“Yeah, well, if this is the way a citizen gets treated for trying to do the right thing, no wonder there’s so much crime in Manhattan,” Coletta said. “But anyway, yeah, I was there when he did it.”
“When who did what?” Karp said.
“What?” asked Coletta with a smirk. “Am I being tag teamed here?…Look, I ain’t comfortable talking to The Man, con’s code of honor and all, but I don’t want to see Mr. Stavros go down for something he didn’t do. He’s a legit guy, gave me a chance after I did my time, and I’ve worked for him ever since.”
“So you’re saying, you owe Mr. Stavros,” Guma asked, looking at his fingernails as if they might need clipping.
“Nah, it ain’t like that,” Coletta countered. “I just wanted to explain why I would turn on a guy who I was pretty tight with at one time.”
“So who are we talking about?” Guma asked. “Who are you saying you saw kill Mrs. Stavros?”
“His name is, or rather was, Jeff Kaplan,” Coletta said. “He was Mrs. Stavros’s gardener. But I understand he died in a boating accident or something.”
“Start from the beginning. Where did you meet him?” Karp asked, recalling the report he’d read from
