'I didn't say a thing,' he said to Maura.'You heard the whole conversation.'
'Harry's just patronizing us,' sheexplained. 'I'm the lush.'
'In that case, here's to us lushes.'
'I like this guy,' Maura said, joining inthe toast.
After five minutes of conversation, Harryknew that his office assessment of the man had been way off. Despite his sallowcomplexion and the persistent tic at the corner of his mouth, Concepcion wasengaging and intelligent. He was born and raised in New York, but had traveledextensively in the service, and then on his own.
He spoke easily and even humorously of hisdrinking days and his virulent addiction to crack cocaine. But the intensity inhis eyes left no doubt that this was serious business to him. At the height ofhis career, he was commanding thousand-dollar-a-day fees and was in continuousdemand. His professional downfall came when he traded his gun to an undercovercop for some crack. At the time, it didn't matter to him — nothing matteredexcept his next fix. But recovery had changed all that.
'I go mostly to NA,' Concepcion toldMaura, when bringing up the subject seemed right. 'You know, NarcoticsAnonymous. But I'll be happy to go with you to an AA meeting if you want. NA,AA, Hershey Bars Anonymous — they're all the same as far as I'm concerned.'
'The sooner the better, I guess,' Maurasaid.
Jackie brought over some pretzels andanother round of sodas. The two guitars had been joined by Hal Jewell, a full-timedrummer who reminded Harry of Buddy Rich, and a sax player named Brisby, whowas a partner in one of the most successful black law firms in the city. Theywere working through a classy ballad in D that Harry had never heard before.Three quarters of an hour had gone by, and between the music and the pleasantsurprise that was Walter Concepcion, he had managed to smooth off a bit of theragged pain he was feeling.
The ballad was captivating, especiallywith the acoustics of the near-empty room. They listened in silence untilBrisby's last, melancholy note had faded away. Then Concepcion cleared histhroat and turned to Harry.
'Dr. Corbett, I … um. . there'ssomething I need to tell you. I do have headaches like I told you in the office- bad ones that no one's been able to help me with. But that was only one ofthe reasons I came to see you.'
'Oh?'
'I hope you're not angry about this. Ifyou are, I guess I'd understand.'
'Go on.'
'I was going to tell you at the office,but you got that phone call and ran out before I could. Doc, I read about youin the papers. In fact, I've read absolutely everything I could get my hands onabout what happened to you and your wife at the hospital. I've been satisfiedby it. I even talked to a friend's sister who's a nurse there. She … ah … told me about the argument you had with that surgeon, what's his name?'
Harry momentarily debated ending theconversation right there. But over the past hour Concepcion had come across asanything but a head case. And there was nothing threatening or obsessive in histone or expression now.
'Sidonis,' he said. 'Caspar Sidonis.'
'Yeah, him. I — ' He looked down at hishands. 'I even know about you, Maura, assuming you're the Maura from Mrs.Corbett's room. Not that much, really. But enough to know that not too manypeople at the hospital believe you.'
'Walter, maybe you'd better get to thepoint,' Harry said.
'The point is, I need work. I know I don'tlook it, but I'm good at what I used to do. Damn good. You claim you didn't killyour wife. Maura claims someone else was in the room after you. I want to helpfigure out who that person was. If I help, you pay me. If I don't, you're onlyout expense money.'
Harry stared across at him. He hadn't oncethought about trying to hire someone to help him out. The idea certainly hadmerit, he acknowledged now. But Walter Concepcion hardly seemed the idealchoice. He felt a sympathetic pang as he pictured the man in his rooming house,rummaging through his small closet for his best clothes in hopes of landing ajob.
I don't know,' he said.
'Walter, tell me something,' Maura said.'From what you've read, what do you think about all this?'
Concepcion rubbed thoughtfully at thestubble on his chin.
'Well, we're not talking about a jealoushusband or even an amateur here,' he said. 'That's for sure. We're dealing witha psychopathic, sociopathic professional killer — a man without a conscience.So I guess the most important thing I could say is that I don't believe Dr.Corbett fits that profile at all. And therefore I don't believe he did it.'
'You're right there,' Harry said.
'I also don't believe you hired the manwho did.'
'Right again. Walter, I just don't know.'
Harry was drawn to a connection withConcepcion's experience and street smarts, to say nothing of the value ofhaving another hand on board who was committed to proving he wasn't a murderer.But he was reluctant to strike a deal with a man about whom he knew so little.Maura saved him the trouble.
'It's a deal,' she said.
'What?'
'Harry, you want to say yes and you knowit. We're dead in the water. We don't have even the glimmer of an idea of whatto do next. Walter can help us. I feel it in my bones.'
'I really think I can, Dr. Corbett.'
Harry took another fifteen seconds, purelyfor appearances.
'If you're going to be working for me, youmight as well call me Harry,' he said.
'You won't regret this,' Concepcion said.'I promise.'
He reached over and shook Harry's hand.His fingers were bony and gnarled, but his grip was surprisingly firm.
For the next half hour, Harry went overthe case in detail. Concepcion listened intently and interrupted from time totime to clarify a point.
'This technician who took thefingerprints, has he heard anything at all?'. . 'Did you suspect your wife washaving an affair at any time?'. . 'The two names you found in her addressbook, have you learned anything about them?'. . 'Do you have any idea whoyour wife worked for?'
By the time Harry finished, they had beenat the club for over two hours. The first few customers had started to stragglein.
'Well, what do you think?' he asked.
Concepcion twisted the small gold band hewore on the middle finger of his right hand.
'I think we've got to do what we can tofind out who this Desiree was working for. That's where I'm going to start.'
'Good luck,' Harry said, genuinelyimpressed with the logic of the idea. 'What can we do in the meantime?'
'We need to get at that face Maura haslocked away somewhere in her brain.'
'You mean by hypnosis?'
'It's a thought.'
Harry rubbed at his eyes.
'Maura, I feel really stupid for notsuggesting that.'
You've had a few things on your mind,' shesaid. 'Listen, Harry. I'll try anything. Maybe we can throw in a few extrabucks and whoever hypnotizes me can convince my subconscious that SouthernComfort tastes like borscht or Diet Dr Pepper or something. Do you know anyonewho might do it?'
'Actually, I do,' Harry said. 'I knowsomeone quite well. His name's Pavel Nemec. You may have heard of him as TheHungarian.'
'The court of last resort for smokers,' Mauraexclaimed. 'I've heard there's a waiting time of six months to see him.'
'I took care of his son once. I have hishome number back at the apartment. If it's humanly possible, he'll see ustomorrow.'
Concepcion whistled.
