'Sure. And afterward he would just happen to write a book.In response to popular demand.'
'It could be dynamite. Not just his role with the investigation but his whole life. He's told me the most fascinating stuff I've ever heard. I wish he'd let me tape some of it, but so far everything's off the record.
When I heard he killed her I saw the chance of my life going down the drain. But if he's really innocent- '
'Where did he get the idea of doing the book?'
He hesitated,then shrugged. 'You might as well know it all. It's a natural idea, cop books are big these days, but he might not have thought of it by himself.'
'Portia Carr.'
'That's right, Matt.'
'She suggested it? No, that doesn't make sense.'
'She was talking about doing a book herself.'
I put my cup down and went over to the window. 'What kind of a book?'
'I don't know. Something like The Happy Hooker, I suppose.
What's the difference?'
'Hardesty.'
'Huh?'
'I'll bet that's why he went to Hardesty.'
He looked at me.
'Knox Hardesty,' I said.'The U.S. District Attorney.Broadfield went to him before he went toPrejanian , and when I asked him why he didn't make much sense.BecausePrejanian was the logical man to go to.
Police corruption is his special area of interest, and it wouldn't carry much weight with a federal D. A.'
'So?'
'SoBroadfield would have known that. He only would have picked Hardesty if he thought he had some kind of an in there. He probably got the idea of writing a book from Portia Carr. Maybe he got the idea of Hardesty from the same place.'
'What does Portia Carr have to do with Knox Hardesty?'
I told him it was a good question.
Chapter 9
Hardesty's offices were at 26 Federal Plaza with the rest of the Justice Department'sNew York operations. That put him just a couple of blocks fromAbnerPrejanian ; I wondered ifBroadfield had dropped in on both of them the same day.
I called first, to make sure Hardesty wasn't in court or out of town.
He was neither, but I saved myself a trip downtown because his secretary told me he hadn't come in, that he was home with stomach flu.
I asked for his home address and telephone number, but she wasn't allowed to give them to me.
The telephone company wasn't similarly restricted. He was listed.
Hardesty, Knox,114 East End Avenue , and a phone number with a Regent 4 exchange. I called the number and got through to Hardesty. He sounded as though stomach flu had been a polite term for hangover. I told him my name and that I wanted to see him. He said he didn't feel well and started to hedge, and the only decent card I had was Portia Carr's name, so I played it.
I'm not sure exactly what reaction I expected, but it certainly wasn't the one I got.'Poor Portia. That was a tragic thing, wasn't it? You were a friend of hers, Scudder? Be very anxious to get together with you. Wouldn't happen to be free right now, I don't suppose. You would?
Good, very good. You know the address here?'
I figured it out in the cab on the way over there. I'd somehow managed to take it for granted that Hardesty had been one of Portia's clients, and I'd envisioned him hopping around in a tutu while she flailed at him with a whip. And men in public office with political ambitions don't usually welcome inquiries on their unorthodox sexual practices from total strangers. I'd expected outright denial that he knew Portia Carr ever existed, or some hedging at the very least. Instead I got a very eager welcome.
So I'd obviously added things wrong. The list of Portia's prominent clients didn't include Knox Hardesty. Theirs was a professional relationship, no doubt, but it was his profession that was involved, not hers.
And that way it made plenty of sense. And it fit in with Portia's literary aspirations and connected neatly toBroadfield's ambitions in that direction.
Hardesty's building was a prewarstonefront fourteen stories tall. It had an Art Deco lobby with high ceilings and a lot of black marble. The doorman had auburn hair and a guardsman's moustache. He established that I was expected and passed me on to the elevator operator, a diminutive black who was barely tall enough to reach the top button.
And he had to reach it because Hardesty had the penthouse.
And the penthouse was impressive.High ceilings, rich, high-pile carpet, fireplaces, oriental antiques. A Jamaican maid led me into the study, where Hardesty was waiting for me. He stood up and came out from behind his desk,
