“You think there are other crime bosses out there sending hoods out after me? Maybe there’s a competition to see who can kill me first.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. But while it’s obvious that Petrone has an interest in this, he clearly isn’t the only one.”
“Keep going…,” I prompt.
“Well, there’s whoever planted the tap on your phone. Whether it’s some secret government agency or just someone with access to their equipment, it wasn’t Petrone. And don’t forget, there is also the person who murdered Stacy Harriman.”
“That could be Petrone,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so-it’s not his style.”
“To set it up to look like a murder-suicide? If he was doing it so that he could get Richard out of the way, so he could smuggle something into the country, that was the best way for him. He left no reason for anyone to suspect it had to do with Richard’s job.”
“I understand that,” she says. “But it falls apart with the pills-or the injection. Doing it that way was leaving it to chance. Petrone would have set it up to look like Richard put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It removes the chance of survival.”
It’s a good point, and one I hadn’t thought of. “So how do I find out what interest Petrone has in this?”
“You could ask him,” she says.
Yes, I could.
* * * * *
VINCE SANDERS KNOWS pretty much every person in America.
And those he doesn’t know, he can get to. He has a Rolodex slightly larger than Poland. It has always struck me as an incongruity that a person as disagreeable as Vince would connect himself to humanity in this fashion, but I’ve come to believe he wants to be able to genuinely dislike as many people as possible.
Vince has always had a relationship with Petrone, and he has occasionally served as a conduit between me and the crime boss. Now that I have decided to confront Petrone and question him about his connection to the Evans case, my logical move is to contact Vince and ask him to set it up.
“Why should I?” he asks.
“What do you mean, why should you?”
“Which part of the question didn’t you understand? Why should I get you in to see Petrone?”
“Because we’re friends and because it’s important to me.”
“You want to try again?” he asks.
“Because it’s in connection with the Evans case, and if a big story comes out of it, you’ll be the first to get it.”
“Always happy to help a friend,” he says. “You got a tuxedo?”
“I do.”
“Then put it on; I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock tonight.”
I’m not understanding this. “I need to wear a tuxedo to meet with Dominic Petrone?”
“Tonight you do. Read my newspaper.”
A quick check of Vince’s paper reveals that there is a charity function tonight. The publisher of Vince’s paper is on the board of directors of the charity, as is Dominic Petrone. It is characteristic of Petrone; when he is not peddling drugs, employing hookers, laundering money, and killing his enemies, he is one heck of a public-spirited guy.
To pass the time, I join Kevin as he leaves to interview Gale Chaplin, a former neighbor of Richard and Stacy’s in Hawthorne. During the trial she proved to be a damaging witness, describing how Stacy had told her of difficulties she and Richard had been having in their relationship. She had also, according to Gale, expressed worry about Richard’s “temper.” She was the only witness to say anything like this, and it proved harmful to Richard’s case.
Chaplin and her family moved a couple of months ago to a town house complex just off Route 4 in Englewood. It’s a very desirable location because of its proximity to the George Washington Bridge and, therefore, to New York City.
She seems quite proud of the place, and when Kevin makes the mistake of admiring it, she takes that as an invitation to give us what she calls the “grand tour.” It is three stories high, and by the time we get to the top floor, I am too out of breath to give much more than admiring grunts. If I ever moved in here, the first thing I would do is interview elevator salesmen.
We finally settle in the kitchen, and Chaplin offers us coffee and cheesecake. Cheesecake is not something I understand. I consider the place for cheese to be on top of a pizza, and I reject any notion that a pizza topping can also be a cake. For instance, I would be similarly opposed to pepperoni cake.
I’ve planned to let Kevin take the lead in the questioning, but when she starts telling us in excruciating detail how much the value of the house has gone up in just the two months they’ve lived here, I feel compelled to intervene. “As I’m sure Kevin told you, we’d like to talk to you about your testimony at the Richard Evans trial.”
She nods. “I read about what’s happening; is it really Reggie? He was such a sweet dog.”
“Yes, it’s definitely him. That has been established.”
“So there may be a new trial?”
“We certainly hope so,” I say. “You spoke about Ms. Harriman confiding in you that she and Richard were having problems…”
“Yes.”
“And that she was fearful of him, of his temper.”
“Yes.”
“Were you and she close?” Kevin asks.
“No, not at all. But she came over for coffee one day, and it just started pouring out. Like she had been holding it in and had to finally tell someone.”
“Did it surprise you?”
She nods vigorously. “Very much; my husband, Frank, and I had liked Richard. He was always such a nice neighbor. But when the murder happened, I felt like I had to tell what I knew.”
“How long before the murder was your conversation?”
“About two weeks,” she says.
“And she never mentioned anything after that?”
“No, I don’t think we even talked again. She was never really that friendly; most of the time she just seemed to keep to herself. I don’t think she was a very happy person.”
“Why do you say that?” Kevin asks.
“Well, for instance, we both grew up near Minneapolis, but she wouldn’t talk much about it. She seemed well read and quite capable of talking about many subjects, as long as the subject wasn’t herself.”
“Any idea why that was?”
“Well, Richard mentioned one day that she had a difficult childhood. And then there were the problems with Richard. People from abusive households often enter into abusive relationships when they become adults. Don’t they?”
I’m not really up for psychobabble now; I’m in my pretuxedo bad mood. “I’ll have to get back to you on that,” I say. “I TiVo’d
Kevin and I leave, and I drop him off at the office before heading home. He’s worried about my meeting with Petrone but agrees to my request to call Marcus and tell him not to interfere.
I had left a message for Laurie that I was going to a black-tie gathering, and told her she was more than welcome to come along. My investigative instincts help me anticipate her answer before she says anything; she is wearing sweatpants and has put my tuxedo out on the bed.
I don’t know much about fashion history, and as an example, I don’t know who invented the tuxedo. But
