The Kills

I took my coffee down the hallway, curious to know what delaying tactic they had in mind at this point.

They stood up when I walked in the room. 'Alex, I'm so sorry about Paige Vallis. We both are.'

I was stone-faced. 'Let's not put your credibility on the line, guys. I've really been trying to take you seriously up to this point. I take it this isn't a condolence call.'

'C'mon, Alex,' Graham Hoyt said. 'You can't take every one of these cases home with you. Don't blame yourself for-'

'I don't, thank you very much.' Stay out of my personal life, I thought, looking daggers at him. 'I blame the killer.'

'Look, Alex, Graham's been working on me all weekend. I just spent the last couple of hours with Andrew Tripping. I think maybe we ought to revisit our discussion of a plea, especially now that the circumstances have changed so dramatically. Will you sit?'

I pulled out a chair and joined them at the table. 'You've been jerking me around since the get-go, Peter. If that's what this is about, forget it. Why would Tripping possibly see the light of day at this point?'

'Because the girl was the sticking point. With all due respect, Alex, he wasn't ever going to jail because he did anything he would admit was wrong to Paige Vallis. She's dead now. Can you understand you've got nothing to go forward with in regard to the charge of rape? You're headed straight to a mistrial.'

I hadn't finished the legal research to see whether it was possible to sustain that count if I was lucky enough to get Dulles to testify honestly about the events of the day and evening. The medical evidence and DNA results proved that sexual intercourse had occurred. Maybe Dulles could establish the fact that there had been threats. I knew the chances looked pretty bleak. I didn't answer.

'Suppose I move to dismiss the rape count of the indictment,' Robelon said, Hoyt sitting patiently by his side. 'I'm not asking you to do that. I'll make the motion-oppose it if you want. You'll be clean on the record, if that makes you feel any better about it, and Moffett will rule on it. My way.'

'Guess you've already had that conversation with him. Ex parte.' I was certain that out of my presence the judge had given Robelon the go-ahead on his plan.

'You're too emotional about this, Alex. Moffett's got no choice,' Robelon said.

'You don't either, if we're talking realistically.'

'And the assault charge on Dulles Tripping? Andrew will plead to that?'

'Graham and I think that if we work on him together, we can get you that plea. The misdemeanor-assault in the third degree.'

'Jail time?' Just the abuse of his son should have earned him the better part of a year behind bars.

Robelon pursed his lips and stalled for a minute. 'We're just starting that part of the discussion. When you were talking rape, he knew he was facing state prison. That was out of the question. This is just city jail. I think we can bend him.'

'Why the change of heart? Besides Paige Vallis, I mean?'

Graham Hoyt spoke. 'Andrew Tripping knows he's not fit to have custody of his son. He loves him-or at least he wants to love the boy, but he's totally unequipped to take care of him. He's not going to say that in open court, Alex, but I think-are we off the record?'

'Of course.'

'I think he'll admit that to Peter and me. He's like any other parent-he simply wants what's best for the boy. Among us, we'll figure out what that is.'

'And the other lawyers,' I said, referring to Nancy Taggart and Jesse Irizarry, from the city child welfare agency and the foundling hospital, 'they'll go along with whatever you propose?'

'We haven't talked with them yet. Not till you say you're on board,' Robelon said.

'Andrew Tripping will do a full allocution?' I wanted a complete admission to the assault on Dulles, no weasel words or excuses.

'We'll work on that with him.'

'On Wednesday morning, when we report back to Moffett?'

'Yes, but-' Robelon started to answer.

'Why doesn't it surprise me that there's a 'but'? Why is it always an angle with you guys?' I asked. 'What's this one?'

'He pleads guilty on Wednesday morning. He admits to hitting the boy, causing the injuries. We'll give you everything you want on that. But we put the sentence off for three weeks. Let him get his affairs in order, see the boy one more-'

'No way.'

'No, what? It's a misdemeanor charge. A short adjournment to tie up loose ends, secure his belongings, make arrangements for his bills to be paid while he's in jail. Nobody in your office ever objected to that kind of thing.'

'It's the boy, Peter. I don't want him seeing the boy.'

'One time. Supervised. You've read all the reports. You know the kid loves him. Since when are you some kind of expert on child psychology, Alex? That Dr. Huang will be present to supervise. Andrew needs to have one face- to-face with the kid. Apologize to him, explain why it's better that he gets help before he thinks about asking to raise Dulles by himself. What the hell do you know about how this kid's gonna feel that his father's in jail for a complaint that the child himself made to the doctors?'

I couldn't respond to Peter's tirade. If there was a single visit, with close supervision, I suppose it might be a necessary part of the child's recovery process. 'Let me talk to our shrinks,' I said.

Graham tried to be the diplomat. 'Look, Alex. It's late in the day, and we're hitting you with this by surprise. Think about it overnight, talk to your people tomorrow, and let's see if we can work this out by Wednesday. I really believe a plea would resolve this quite reasonably for everyone involved.'

'Everyone except Paige Vallis,' I said, thinking of how her death had taken her interests completely out of the criminal case. 'And now I'm supposed to leave Andrew Tripping out of jail even longer, risking the possibility that he'll never surrender, but I don't have a clue whether he's responsible for the Vallis murder.'

'Goddamnit, Alex,' Robelon shouted at me. 'If you had a scintilla of evidence to point in his direction, then you and your goons should lock his ass up. Don't you dare think for a fraction of a second of walking into a courtroom and making that kind of allegation that you can't support. That's completely unprofessional.'

Robelon was on his feet, and Hoyt was pressing the palm of his hand against the taller man's chest.

'We all need a break,' Hoyt said. 'Let's wrap it up before the weekend. Gretchen's on her way. You and I will be out of here.'

'Gretchen?' I asked, completely distracted by his non sequitur.

'Hurricane Gretchen. She's headed for the Outer Banks tomorrow, and then supposed to roll up the coast, hitting us hard on the cape and islands. That's what this drizzle is about,' Hoyt said, pointing to the gray clouds outside the window.

'I didn't even notice. I don't think I've looked out the window since I got here this morning.'

'I've got to fly up to Nantucket to secure the boat before the weekend. Better check on your house,' he reminded me.

Hoyt was giving me the chance to small-talk my way back into a conversation with Robelon. I'd be damned if I'd apologize for my crack about Tripping. His involvement in Vallis's death certainly hadn't been ruled out by the homicide detectives.

I tried to stay in neutral territory. Bouncing off my interview of Spike Logan, I remembered Hoyt's lively discussion about collectors when we had been at the New York Yacht Club.

We closed up the conference room and walked to the elevators. 'I've got a question for you, Graham. You told me on Saturday that you're the maven of great collectors. Besides J. P. Morgan, who were the other well-known collectors of the twentieth century?'

Robelon walked behind us, brooding, as Hoyt answered me. 'Nelson Rockefeller, Armand Hammer, William Randolph Hearst, Malcolm Forbes. Dozens more like them, just not as well known. You looking for a rich husband, Alex?'

'Skip the husband. Just a tiara. How about King Farouk? Would he be on that list?'

'What'd you say about Farouk?' Robelon asked.

Tell your client I'm on to him, I thought to myself. 'I asked Graham what kind of collector he was.'