always telling me to shut up.
Ziegler sank deeper into his chair, sulking.
“Once in a while, in the gaming business,” Perlow said, in a grandfatherly tone, “someone was entitled to wet his beak, but he starts drinking the whole birdbath. I didn’t send out a couple half-wits to throw the guy into the backseat of a car.”
“Aw, Jesus.” Ziegler wheeled around and stared out the window.
“I invited the man to my suite,” Perlow continued. “I offered espresso,
“You must serve good pastry,” I said. “What’s on the menu today?”
“Hypothetically, let’s say I have a grievance with a lawyer. To make a living, this lawyer needs cooperation from judges, from prosecutors, even from the clerk of the court. If suddenly no one offers him a plea, if his files go missing, if every client gets the max, the whole town knows he can’t deliver the goods.”
I was starting to feel sorry for this hypothetical lawyer.
“Maybe the poor schlemiel starts cutting corners in order to survive,” Perlow went on. “Someone lets the Florida Bar know of the man’s malefactions. Soon he’s broke and without a law license.”
First Alex Castiel, now Max Perlow. Double-teaming me like two linemen on a draw play. “Ruining me seems like a lot of trouble to go to if your sleazy pal had nothing to do with Krista Larkin’s disappearance.”
“Fuck you,” Ziegler shot back, still looking out the window.
Perlow tapped the floor with his cane.
“What the hell!” Ziegler whirled around in his chair to face his partner.
“Calm down, Charlie.”
“How much?” I asked, being a stickler for details.
Perlow allowed a small smile, thinking he had me. “Serious shekels, I assure you.”
Things were moving way too fast, I thought. First they send Angel Roxx to seduce me, then Ray Decker to escort me. Then I encounter Mutt and Jeff. Good gangster, bad gangster. I’d hit a nerve, and these two were freaking out. I sure as hell wasn’t going to take their money, but I’d like to know why it was being offered. What did they have to hide?
“This
“Isn’t that how a retainer works?”
“So does a bribe.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’m sure Charlie can find something for you to do.”
Ziegler drilled me with eyes cold as coins. “Wish I was still in hard core. You could mop up jism on the set.”
“Keep your retainer,” I said. “I’d rather come after you.”
“Take your best shot, shyster.”
“I’ll start by asking questions of your bigshot friends. Maybe the Archbishop has something to say.”
Ziegler emitted a sound very much like a dog growling.
“A suggestion, Mr. Lassiter,” Perlow said. “You’re here now. Ask Charlie anything you want. Whatever you learn, feel free to take to Alejandro.”
Surprising me. “Sure, why not?” I said.
With a hostile witness, many lawyers begin with soft violins before they start pounding the kettle drums. They try to lull the witness into a false sense of security. I think subtlety is overrated.
“Were you fucking Krista Larkin when she was seventeen?” I began.
Ziegler blinked and shot a look at Perlow, who said, “Tell him the truth, Charlie.”
“Yeah, I was fucking her. So what? I wasn’t the only one.”
“Did she come to parties at your house?”
“Yeah, lots of them.”
“What about the night she disappeared?”
“Never showed up.”
“You invited her?”
“On the set that day. She said she’d come by, but she didn’t.”
“Any idea why?”
“Maybe she was worn out from sucking cock all day.”
“Am I mistaken, or did you just get the Humanitarian of the Year award?”
“Cor-fucking-rect, and I’m a Grand Claw, too. You know how much you gotta give to charity to get a golden bib?”
“Who cares? Underneath your bib, you’re still a sleazebag.”
He turned to Perlow. “A fucking criminal defense lawyer lecturing me.”
“One difference,” I said, “I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not.”
“You hypocrite! Max, did you hear him?”
“Not now, Charlie.”
But Ziegler barreled on. “Hey, Lassiter, you think I don’t remember you? You think Krista didn’t tell me about you? I know what happened that night, you two-faced fuck!” He smirked at me. “Did you tell your client you fucked her sister? Or do you want me to?”
I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if someone had cinched leather straps around my chest and pulled tight.
“Charlie, that’s not the way to resolve this,” Perlow said. “Mr. Lassiter, do you have anything else?”
I was reeling from Ziegler’s accusations. I’d tumbled from the moral high ground to the gutter.
He even guessed that I hadn’t been honest with Amy Larkin. I had to fix that and fast.
I had blundered coming here. I could see it in his triumphant grin. If a snake could smile, that would be its look.
Perlow stirred, bracing his cane to get to his feet. “If that’s it, Mr. Lassiter, it would appear you have nothing placing the girl in Charlie’s company the night she disappeared.”
“Maybe today I don’t. But this isn’t over. Hell, it hasn’t even started.” Trying to salvage the moment by sounding tough, but really just spraying a garden hose on the
I turned to leave, listening to Ziegler snicker like a horse. Just as I reached the door he said, “Hey, Lassiter, why do you think I sent Angel your way?”
I didn’t answer, and he said, “Because I
“Bullshit. I sent her home.”
“My mistake. Next time, I’ll send jail bait.”
He was still cackling when the door closed behind me.
19 The Marvelous Jew
“Nestor, what’s the problem?” Perlow asked his driver and bodyguard. The creamy white Bentley was stuck in the exit lane of the Ziegler Enterprises building.
“Car being towed.”
Perlow saw it then. Ziegler’s black Lincoln. The car Ray Decker used. Four flat tires.
Lassiter, he thought.
Ziegler had gloated after Lassiter left. Thought he’d won the round. But all he’d done was bloody the nose of a street fighter. Lassiter wasn’t a weaker foe because Charlie shamed him, but a more determined one. The lawyer didn’t have a booming practice or a 24-karat reputation. But again, that only made him more dangerous.
Meyer Lansky himself said that more than half a century ago. The man President Batista of Cuba called
