FitzGibbon rose and bowed elaborately.
Have we met before? he asked.
We have, said Dorita. Good to see you again.
FitzGibbon nodded uncertainly. Sat down. Ramon scowled. I began wondering if the expression had been tattooed on his face at birth.
We’re not sure how much progress we’ve made, I said. But there are a few issues we’d like to talk to you about. That might lead somewhere.
Okay, said FitzGibbon.
These trusts, I said. I understand that they were set up by your father?
Yes, he said warily. Ramon leaned forward. Raul lit a long slim cigarette. He looked unconcerned.
And they were intended for the benefit of your children?
Ye-e-s, he said, drawing it out.
The part that speaks to your ‘issue,’ correct?
That’s right, he said slowly.
FitzGibbon looked at Raul.
Ramon’s scowl deepened.
And you also know that there are conditions that have to be fulfilled before your children get the capital, right?
FitzGibbon looked confused.
There are some conditions, interjected Raul.
I looked at him. He looked as placid and content as always.
One of which is that they not have been convicted of a felony, correct?
That’s one of them, yes, said Raul.
Which is an interesting coincidence, I said.
Excuse me for a moment, said Raul pleasantly. I’m not sure I understand. How did you get this information? It was my understanding that you couldn’t handle that matter. You had a conflict, or something.
Oh dear. An inconvenient detail.
The phone rang. Raul picked up the phone. He listened.
Yes, he said. I understand.
I looked around for Ramon. He wasn’t there.
Raul leaned over and whispered something in FitzGibbon’s ear.
Then he turned to me.
Excuse me, Mr. Redman, he said, but something has come up.
Pardon me? I asked.
Terribly sorry, he said. We must attend to it right away.
He nodded toward the door.
I looked at FitzGibbon for help. He was gazing out the window. I looked back at Raul. He was looking steadily at me.
His Look said: Get the hell out of here.
Well, perhaps we can speak later in the day? I asked.
Perhaps, said Raul. We’ll let you know.
Ramon returned. He parked himself in front of FitzGibbon’s desk, arms crossed. Obscuring my view of the Patriarch.
I looked at Dorita. She looked as frustrated as I felt.
I couldn’t just leave it at that.
Listen, I said, I don’t know what’s set you guys off, but I’m just asking a few questions. We’ve learned a few things. Things that may lead to other things. We’re working for you, Mr. FitzGibbon.
I craned my neck to try to get some eye contact with the Patriarch. Ramon shifted to block my view.
Our job is to clear Jules, I said to FitzGibbon, trying to project my voice through Ramon’s midsection. Surely you want to help us any way you can?
I really think it would be better if you left, said Raul.
Calm and cool.
I looked at Dorita.
She shrugged.
We left. What else were we going to do? Start a fistfight?
Wouldn’t be prudent.
Ramon followed us out the door. Into the elevator. He followed us to the lobby. He followed us into the street.
Dorita and I picked up the pace once we got outside. Ramon fell behind. I looked back. He was going back into the building.
Well, I said, there goes what little was left of my career.
And mine.
Shit.
FitzGibbon’s probably on the phone to Warwick as we speak.
Or the Bar Association.
Or both.
Damn. We may have gotten Kennedy in trouble too.
Jesus. You’re right.
And we didn’t even get to the phone calls.
Let’s get a drink.
When we had found a suitable watering hole, we sat down and looked at each other.
What’s done is done, said Dorita.
I suppose, I said.
That was really something.
If we didn’t know before that there were some guilty consciences around that place.
We sure do now.
Looks like the whole bunch of them are in on it.
In on something. The question is, on what? We still don’t have a sliver of evidence tying any of them to Larry Silver. Other than your esteemed client, of course.
Our client, I said. In any case, you’ll be tracking down the slivers this afternoon. While I continue the investigation of our friend Dr. Steiglitz.
Dorita sighed, rolled her eyes.
I’ll see what I can do, she said. Call me later.
You can count on me, I said, without conviction.
94.
Threehours until the Steiglitz appointment. I tried not to think about my now-defunct career. I wondered whether I should warn Kennedy.
Of course I should.
But I couldn’t bring myself to call him.
I looked for some sand to bury my head in.
I flipped open the laptop. Twenty-first-century sand.
I googled Steiglitz. Eighty-eight hits. The guy got around.
He published a lot of papers. Gave a lot of speeches. Was heavily involved in politics. Hung with movie stars and models.
There were some lawsuits too. You can’t be a doctor in the United States of America and not get lawsuits. I
