“Uh, oh,” Dino said as they pulled up to the entrance of the 19th Precinct. “What’s this?”
“Leakiest precinct in the city,” Stone said, slamming his fist against the dashboard in frustration.
A knot of reporters crowded the sidewalk. Television lights went on. Stone and Dino got Morgan out of the car and hustled her into the building, shoving the shouting reporters out of the way.
“No comment,” Dino kept yelling.
“I want to call my lawyer,” Morgan said, when they were safe from the howling mob.
“Just as soon as we’ve fingerprinted and photographed you,” Stone said, unlocking her handcuffs.
She gave the fingerprints without further protest, then, while Stone had her photographed, Dino hand-carried the prints upstairs. Stone took Morgan into the squad room and put her in an empty cubicle, away from the stares of the other detectives.
Morgan put her face in her hands. “This is so humiliating,” she said.
“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” Stone replied, “but you’ve made it harder on yourself by refusing to cooperate.”
“I want my lawyer
Stone handed her the phone, and, hands shaking, she dialed a number. Stone noted that she didn’t have to look it up. He wondered how many innocent people knew their lawyers’ phone numbers off the tops of their heads.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Dino came breathlessly into the cubicle and hauled Stone out.
“Listen to this,” he said.
“Was one of her prints in Sasha’s apartment?” Stone asked. It would be too good to be true.
“Better than that, pal – we’ve got a
A weak, warm feeling flooded through Stone. “Jesus Christ!” He exhaled. All the work, all the sweat had been worth it. He had not realized until that moment how afraid he had been of this case and what it might do to him. “Let’s have another shot at her before her lawyer gets here,” he said, heading back for the cubicle.
Morgan was sitting rigidly in the steel chair, her hands clenched in her lap.
“Listen to me, Ms. Morgan,” Stone said, pulling up a chair. “You’ve already admitted to me that you and Sasha were having an affair, and that she was also having an affair with a man; that would make you pretty jealous, wouldn’t it? We’ve got canceled checks showing that Sasha paid you twenty thousand dollars in less than two months; your palm print was found on the terrace that Sasha fell from. We’ve got all that, Ms. Morgan, and we’re going to get more. Now, don’t you think it’s time you told us about it?”
Morgan’s shoulders began to shake, and tears rolled down her face.
Stone thought it was the only moment she had looked feminine since he had met her.
“Oh, God!” she moaned, “I want to tell you…”
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a rumbling voice said from behind them.
Stone and Dino turned to see a tall man in a beautiful overcoat standing there.
“My name is Carlton Palmer; I’m Henrietta Morgan’s attorney; I know you won’t mind if I consult with my client. Alone,” he added for good measure.
The two detectives reluctantly gave up the field.
“Shit,” Dino muttered. “She was going to confess. We had her in the palm of our hands, and that slick bastard had to show up.”
“She had a right to see him, Dino,” Stone said. “To tell you the truth, I’d have been uncomfortable with a confession made before her lawyer got here.”
“She won’t say another fucking word now,” Dino complained. “We’ll just have to work our fucking balls off, making the case. If we’d had that confession, you and I would have made detective first by tomorrow morning.”
“Well, you’re right about one thing,” Stone commiserated. “She’ll never say a word to us now.”
Ten minutes later, Palmer came out of the cubicle. “Gentlemen,” he said, “my client will answer your questions now.”
Chapter 21
They had moved to the conference room. Tape and video equipment was up and running. Leary had joined them for the big moment.
“I’d like to say something for the camera before you begin,” the lawyer said.
Stone nodded.
He got up, walked around to where Hank Morgan sat, placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder, and spoke to the camera. “I am Carlton Palmer, the attorney representing Henrietta Morgan, and I would like this record to show that Miss Morgan is giving this statement voluntarily and of her own free will in a spirit of cooperation with the police.” He returned to his seat.
Stone’s hands were sweating. “State your full name and address and place of employment for the record,” he said to Morgan.
“My name is Henrietta Maxine Morgan; I live at Seventy-one West Tenth Street in Manhattan. I am employed as a makeup artist by the news division of the Continental Network.” Her voice quavered a bit, but she was calm.
“Ms. Morgan, have you been advised of your rights under the Constitution of the United States?”
“I have been.”
“Are you making this statement voluntarily?”
“I am.”
“Have you been subjected to any duress with regard to this statement?”
“No.”
“Ms. Morgan, how long have you been employed by the Continental Network?”
“Just over three months.”
“And when did you first meet Sasha Nijinsky?”
“Shortly after I joined the network. I did her makeup once, substituting for someone who was out sick, and she began asking for me.”
“Did you and Ms. Nijinsky become friends?”
“Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“We were on friendly terms from the beginning. We began to become… close about eight weeks ago.”
“Did you, in fact, enter into a romantic relationship with Ms. Nijinsky?”
“Yes.”
“A relationship of a sexual nature?”
Morgan gulped. “Yes.”
“Were you in love with Ms. Nijinsky?”
“Yes.”
“And was she in love with you?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you she loved you, in so many words?”
“Yes. Many times.”
“Were you aware that, during the same period Ms. Nijinsky was seeing you, she was also having an affair with a man?”
Morgan looked away for the first time. “Yes. She told me so.”
“Did she tell you who this man was?”
“No.”
“Did she give you any indication, any hint at all as to his identity?”
