Compulsion

“That’s what his lawyer called it.”

“His lawyer was right, Doctor. This city, you sneeze upwind, you’re in court. My son’s finishing at Brooklyn Law. Did ten years in Brooklyn Robbery, saw where the bread was buttered.” Smiling. “Olive-oiled.”

His attention shifted to his plate and he began eating with obvious pleasure. My steak was great but my mind was elsewhere. I waited awhile before asking if there’d been suspects other than Korvutz.

“Nope. And it never went anywhere with Korvutz because we couldn’t find any criminal connections. Despite the Russian thing. We got neighborhoods, Doctor, Brighton Beach, whatnot, you hear more Russian than English. Some of these guys came over in the first place to do no-good, we got Russian-speaking detectives keeping plenty busy. None of them and none of their informants ever heard of Korvutz. He wasn’t from Moscow, Odessa, the places most of them are from.”

“Belarus.”

“Used to be called White Russia, it’s its own country now,” said Polito. “The point I’m making is no matter how deep we dug, there was no dirt on Korvutz. Sure, he’s in court a lot. So is every other developer. And each time he gets sued, he settles.”

“Any of his other tenants disappear?”

Polito shook his head. “And no one he litigated with would talk trash about him ’cause that’s the condition of the settlements. To be honest, Doc, only reason he was even considered was there was no one else on the radar. Now you’re telling me about this Bright character.”

“You remember him?”

“I got a vague memory, only because he was the head of that put-up tenant board.”

“It was an obvious put-up?”

“Look,” said Polito, “there’s never any board before Korvutz buys the building, same goes for the first six months Korvutz owns it. Then he files for permission to convert and all of a sudden there’s an election no one remembers too clearly and a board of three people, all of which are tenants who came on after Korvutz bought the building.”

I said, “Bright plus two others.”

“A distant cousin of Korvutz and the son of the plumber who services Korvutz’s New Jersey buildings.”

He produced a folded piece of lined paper, same size as Milo’s pad. “I remembered the names.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Hey,” he said, “D.C. calls, who’m I to say no.” Slowly spreading smile. “Even if he is my wife’s brother-in- law.”

Neat typing on the sheet.

518 W. 35 Tenant Board Members

1. Dale Bright

2. Sonia Glusevitch

3. Lino Mercurio

I said, “Korvutz knew the other two before he bought the building. Any indication of a prior relationship with Bright?”

“Nope. And here’s the thing, Doc: Even if the board was a puppet thing, it’s no big deal legally. Landlord’s not obligated to have a board, period. And none of the tenants gave a crap. Except for the Safrans. They screamed corruption.”

I pocketed the paper.

Polito said, “Truth is, Doc, the Safrans had no leg to stand on, they were just making problems. Everyone else was happy with the deal Korvutz offered because it was better than what they had in that dump. We’re not talking big lofts, like in Soho. This was a crappy place, used to be a shoe factory, that got divided into dinky units, real cheap construction. I’m talking singles and one-bedrooms, iffy plumbing and wiring, not to mention your basic rodent issues, because it’s a commercial neighborhood, open garbage cans, whatnot. Korvutz makes an offer they can’t refuse, no one refuses.”

“Except the Safrans,” I said.

Polito put down his fork. “I don’t like bad-mouthing my vics but from what I could tell those two were confrontative. I’m talking hippie refugees from the sixties. He was at City College back when, radical SDS type. I was in uniform back then, did crowd control. For all I know he was one of those spoiled little bastards screaming at me.”

“What about Dorothy?”

“Same thing.”

“Rebels without a cause,” I said. “Dorothy’s sister said they’d felt threatened-”

“Margie Bell,” he said. “Let me tell you about Margie. Long history of depression and whatnot. On all kinds of medication, plus she’d had two commitments to Bellevue. One year later, she hung herself.”

“Definite suicide?”

“Her own kid found her in the bathroom with a note. Doc, the Safrans made a tempest out of a teapot. You get to live cheap in this city because of rent control, count your blessings and move on. I went through their apartment, tossed every inch trying to find a lead.” Shaking his head. “Wouldn’t let my dog live like that. They did, though. Let their dog. In one corner there was dirty newspapers spread out, urine stains, piles of dog dirt all dried up. These people weren’t housekeepers – sorry if I ruined your steak. What I’m getting at is they were living like squatters, shoulda taken Korvutz up on his offer.”

“Ever see the dog?”

“Nope, just what it left behind. Why?”

I told him about Leonora Bright’s missing pets. Dale Bright’s volunteering at Paws and Claws.

He twirled his wineglass. “This guy likes furry things but maybe he’s not so nice to people?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“You bet,” he said. “Had one case, back when I started out, down on Ludlow Street, Lower East Side. Crazy junkie carves up his old lady, leaves her propped up, sitting at the kitchen table for two weeks. We’re talking middle of the summer, tenement, no air-conditioning, you can imagine. Meanwhile, he’s got a pit bull, everyone says it’s a nice mutt, but you wouldn’t catch me petting one of those. Anyway, this dog, this maniac pampers it, decides to up the protein in its diet. By the time we get there – sorry if that ruined your appetite.”

“No sweat.” I ate to demonstrate.

Polito said, “You really like Bright as your perp, huh?”

“He’s associated with two violent deaths, one of which made him wealthy. If he was paid to dispatch the Safrans, that’s two more with a financial incentive. And from what we can tell, after the Safrans vanished, so did he.”

“Into thin air.” He smiled. “That could mean something else, Doc.”

“He got disappeared, too,” I said.

Polito shrugged.

“Maybe,” I said, “but right now, there’s no one else on the screen. Anything you can tell me about him would be helpful.”

“There ain’t much. Even with my brother-in-law linking me up with his official big-shot brother-in-law computer.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like you said, guy’s nowhere. Once the building was vacated, no other address shows up. Can’t find any sign he ever lived in the five boroughs or the entire state of New York. I’m talking no tax records, real estate deeds, driver’s license, the works. All I can give you is a general physical description eight years ago and the fact that when I interviewed him, he was cooperative. And that’s because if he wasn’t cooperative, I’da recalled that. I talked to the guy exactly once – routine interview, same for all the tenants.”

“What’d he look like?”

“Good-sized guy, beefy, bald.”

“Clean-shaven?”

“Cue ball, no hair, period.”

I fished out my copy of Ansell Bright’s California license.