Play Dead Part 13

"You mean like hit men and the United States government?"

He nods. "That's what I mean."

"But we've got Marcus. Advantage, us."

Laurie's reaction when I get home and bring her up to date is the same as Kevin's. "Are you sure Marcus is watching out for you?" she asks.

I shrug. "He's never let me down before. But I must tell you, I resent the fact that you think I need Marcus for protection. I can handle myself when things get rough."

"Since when?"

"Since always," I say. "You may not know this, but when I was a kid, and the other kids were at the library or the ballet, you know what I was doing? I was at home watching boxing on television."

"Andy, you're a great lawyer and a wonderful man, and I love you completely. But you'd be in major trouble if you got in the ring with the Olson twins."

"What does that prove? There's two of them."

The situation is becoming very stressful for Laurie. She has to go back home in three days and can't stand that she will be leaving me in what she considers a dangerous situation. In the old days, meaning last year, she would have been on the defense team and would be taking an active role. Now she's on the sidelines watching, and having trouble with it.

I spend the rest of the day hanging out with Laurie, Tara, and Reggie, as appealing a threesome as ever existed. I'm not feeling overly nervous about my upcoming meeting in the darkened park. Since I requested the meeting, there's little reason to consider Franklin a danger.

At nine o'clock I park my car by the baseball field and walk the few hundred yards across the field to the old pavilion. It's empty now, but when I was younger it had a snack bar with some of the best french fries in history. My father would take me there after my team lost a game or I played badly, to cheer me up. I went there a lot.

I stand in front of the pavilion as instructed, waiting for Franklin. There is some moonlight, but he is only ten yards from me before I see him. He came from the opposite direction and is so quiet he must be wearing moccasins.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. Carpenter."

"Thanks for coming."

"How is Richard doing?"

"He's okay, but he really needs your help."

"I'm not sure what I can do."

"I am operating under the premise that Richard was intended to be a murder victim, set up to look like he was perpetrating a murder-suicide. It could not have been to prevent him from revealing something he knew, since he would still be aware of it. It must have been to get him out of the way, so that he would not prevent something that was going to happen."

"Roy Chaney took over when Richard... left."

"I know. I spoke to him."

He seems surprised by this. "You did?"

"Yes. Is he a friend of yours?"

His response is instantaneous. "No." Then: "I don't trust him."

"You think he could be doing something illegal?"

"I'm not sure," he says. "But since he came in, guys have gotten transferred out of his section, and they brought in new people from the outside. They're a real tight group-not very friendly with the rest of us."

"So it's possible Richard was taken out to enable some people to do illegal business, with Chaney allowing it to happen?" I ask.

He answers my question with a question. "You think whatever it was is still going on?"

I nod. "Probably. A lot of people are nervous about what I might turn up. If it was over, they wouldn't be quite as worried."

"So what is it you want me to do?" he asks.

"I don't even know enough yet to be specific. I just want you to be alert to anything, maybe ask around discreetly. And carefully, very carefully."

He promises that he will and, before he leaves, asks that I give his best to Richard. "I feel bad that I stopped going to see him," he says. "It's just that-"

"He understands."

Franklin leaves, and I head back for my car. It's gotten even darker, and I can barely find it. I'll be glad when I get out of here.

I reach the car, open the door, and get in. I turn on the car and flick on the lights at the same time, and when I look through the front window I get a jolt comparable to maybe six or seven million volts of electricity sent through my body. It doesn't kill me, but it makes me scream really loud.

There, lying on the front of the car, face pressed against the windshield, is a really large man. He's also really ugly, a condition made even more severe by the fact that his large nose seems to be bleeding, perhaps from the impact on the windshield.

I'm not quite sure what to do next. I can't drive like this, but neither am I inclined to get out of the car. The guy could be dead, and dead bodies freak me out. Even worse, he could be alive. Live bodies that look like this freak me out even more.

The next jolt is a tapping on the driver's window, which makes me jump so much that I literally hit my head on the roof of the car. I turn and see Marcus signaling me to roll down the window.

I do so, and Marcus sort of nods in the direction of Windshield Man and says, "Out."

"Him?" I ask, a.s.suming that Marcus is talking about Windshield Man. "Is he just out, or dead?"

"He wants you to get out of the car, Andy. Which would be a good idea, since we're going to be here a while." It's Laurie's voice, which represents still another surprise.

I get out of the car, but before I can say anything, Laurie says, "Let's take a walk. You can show me this part of the park."

"It's dark," I point out.

"That's okay," she says. "I've got a good imagination."

So Laurie and I go for a walk in the park, leaving Marcus behind with Windshield Man, whose moans indicate he is regaining consciousness. "Any chance you'll tell me what's going on?"

"It's pretty simple," she says. "Marcus was watching out for you, and he saw this guy following you. Marcus then put him on your car for safekeeping."

"Who is he?"

"That's what Marcus is in the process of finding out."

"Did he see who I was meeting with?"

"No," Laurie says. "Marcus intercepted him before Franklin got here."

"The amazing thing," I say, "is that you happened to show up in the same place and at the same time as Marcus and I. Talk about a small world..."

"Amazing," she admits.

"What exactly were you doing here?"

"I wasn't sure Marcus was covering you, so I figured I'd watch your back, just in case."

I could give Laurie grief about being here, but I won't. She was here to protect me, to make sure nothing bad happened. It turned out she wasn't needed, but she could have been. Besides, no matter how much grief I might give her, she'd still do it again in the same circ.u.mstances-not that she'll have the chance, since she'll be back in Wisconsin in three days.

"How long will Marcus need?" I ask.

"I wouldn't think very long."

We start walking back across the baseball field. "So this is the scene of your greatest imaginary athletic accomplishments?" she asks.

"Yup," I say. "Right over there is where I didn't hit the game-winning home run against Clifton. And the very spot we're standing on is where I didn't make a diving catch to beat Garfield."

"You must be very proud."

I nod. "I am. But as great as those fake moments were, I never dreamed that one day I'd be back here with a big ugly guy facedown and bleeding on the hood of my car, with my girlfriend here to protect me. You can't see it in the dark, but my eyes are filled with tears."

We head back to the car, and Laurie wisely calls out so that Marcus will know it's us. Suddenly the lights go on in the car, and we can see that Marcus has turned them on. Windshield Man is sitting on the curb, in front of the car. The headlights are shining right at him, but he doesn't seem to notice.

He looks thoroughly dejected and defeated. Marcus can do that to you.

Laurie asks Marcus to bring us up to date on what he has learned. Bringing up to date is not Marcus's strong point; he's not the most communicative guy in the world. But Laurie is better at drawing him out than I am, and before I know it, one- and two-syllable words are pouring out of him.

Windshield Man is a low-level member of the Dominic Petrone organization. Petrone is a charming, intelligent man who just happens to control the most powerful crime family in New Jersey. I have had dealings with Petrone in the past; we have even helped each other on a number of occasions. It is not something I've been comfortable with, mainly because there's always a chance that he will get annoyed and have me killed.

Windshield Man has been a.s.signed to keep an eye on me and report back on my actions. Marcus is positive that he was not sent to do me harm, and Marcus's instincts in the area of doing harm are usually quite accurate.

This conversation is conducted within earshot of Windshield Man, who seems to show no interest in it at all. He perks up a bit when Marcus inquires what I would like to do with him. The way he asks the question, I a.s.sume my options range from letting him go to dumping his dismembered body in the river.

I opt for letting him go, after Marcus and Laurie a.s.sure me that he will not go back and accurately report what has happened to his mob bosses. To do so would not be good for his job security, or his life expectancy.

We send Windshield Man walking off into the darkness. "I'm gonna miss his wit," I say. Laurie and I get into the car to leave, and Marcus declines a ride. I have no idea how he got here, but he's clearly going back the same way.

It's only a five-minute ride home, and Laurie and I talk about the situation while taking Tara and Reggie for their nightly walk.

"The list of things I don't understand keeps getting longer," I say.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance, let's a.s.sume Petrone sent someone to kill me on the highway. Why would he then have Windshield Man just watching me? What have I done in the last two weeks that could have changed Petrone's mind about killing me?"

"I don't think you can make that a.s.sumption. Maybe it wasn't Petrone who sent the shooter on the highway," she says.

"You think there are other crime bosses out there sending hoods out after me? Maybe there's a compet.i.tion 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 S SANDERS KNOWS pretty much every person in America. 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."