Widow's Walk Part 3

I spread my hands. It follows as the night the day. She frowned for a while. Which was apparently what she did when she thought.

"Maybe I could give you a list," she said.

I waited. Finally she turned to her PR guy.

"Larson," she said. "You could give them the guest list for the last party."

"I have it in the computer," Graff said. "If that would help."

"Great," I said. "That'll be great."

I could see Rita off to the right. She looked amused.

CHAPTER FOUR.

I went with Belson to the new Suffolk County House of Correction in South Bay, where they were holding Jack DeRosa for trial on an armed robbery charge.

"So, as I understand it," Belson said, "I'm trying to help you prove that our case against Mary Smith is no good."

"Yep."

"And what's in that for me?" Belson said. "I helped put the d.a.m.ned case together."

"Justice is served?"

"Yeah?"

"And I'm your pal."

"Oh boy," Belson said.

We met DeRosa in a secure conference room on the first floor. His lawyer was with him. DeRosa was a small guy with a big nose that had been broken more than once. There was enough scar tissue around his eyes to suggest that he'd been a fighter.

"Welterweight?" I said.

"Yeah."

"Any good?" I said.

"I was a palooka," he said.

"So you found another line of work."

DeRosa shrugged. His jail fatigues were too big, and it made him look smaller than he was.

"Whaddya want?" he said.

"Woman named Mary Smith asked you to kill her husband," I said.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"From me," Belson said.

"We already have our deal in place," DeRosa's lawyer said.

She was stunning. Expensive blond hair cut short, dark blue pantsuit with a fine chalk line, white blouse, small diamond on a gold chain showing at her throat. She looked like she worked out, probably in bright tights and expensive sneakers.

"Where are you from?" I said to the lawyer.

"Excuse me?"

"What firm do you represent?"

"Kiley and Harbaugh," she said. "I'm Ann Kiley."

"Bobby Kiley's daughter?" I said.

"Yes."

"Wow!" I said.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Spenser?"

"I'm interested in who hooked DeRosa up with Mary Smith," I said.

"And what is your interest, Sergeant?"

"I'm just along to learn," Belson said.

"Are you here officially?"

"You mean if your client helps us out can I help him out?"

"Precisely."

"Sure."

She nodded slightly at DeRosa.

"Guy I know called me," DeRosa said. "Told me this broad was interested in a shooter."

"What's the guy's name?"

"Chuck."

"Chuck."

"Yeah. I don't know his last name, just Chuck."

"Where's Chuck from?"

"In town somewhere," DeRosa said.

"In town."

"Yeah."

"If I wanted to talk with Chuck, how would I reach him?"

"I don't know. He called me."

"So how'd you get in touch with Mary Smith?"

"Chuck give me her number," DeRosa said. "I called it."

I looked at Belson. He shrugged slightly.

"So," I said. "A guy named Chuck, you don't know his full name or how to reach him, calls you up and tells you that a woman wants her husband killed, and you call her up and offer your services?"

"Yeah."

I looked at Belson again. He had no expression. I looked at Ann Kiley. She seemed calm.

"Okay. Tell me about your conversation with Mary Smith."

"Hey, I already told about a hundred f.u.c.king cops and ADA'S," he said. "Didn't you read the reports?"

"It's just an excuse," I said. "You're so G.o.dd.a.m.ned charming that I just like to talk with you."

"Yeah, well, I don't like saying the same s.h.i.t over and over."

"Sure," I said. "Like you got important stuff to do in here."

"It won't hurt," Ann Kiley said, "if you tell it once more, Jack."

"Yeah? Well, she met me at some f.u.c.king restaurant in a f.u.c.king clothing store, for crissake."

"Okay. How'd you recognize her?"

"I asked the hostess, or whatever, and they seated me."

"What'd she say?"

"She just said she wanted her husband killed and could I do it?"

"How much she paying?"

"Fifty grand."

"Why didn't you take the job?"

"I did."

"But you didn't kill her husband."

"No."

"Because?"

"Because I don't do that kind of work."

"But you took the money."

"Yeah, sure. I figure I take the dough and don't do it. What's she gonna do?"

"And you have fifty large in your pocket," I said.

"Twenty-five. She give me half up front, half when it was done."

"She say why she wanted him killed?" I said.

"Nope."

"She ever follow up with you?" I said.

"No."

"So she gave you twenty-five thousand, and you put it in your pocket and walked away and never saw her again."

"That's right."

"How'd she give you the money?"

"Whaddya mean how? She f.u.c.king handed it to me."

"Cash?"

"Yeah. In a bag."

"Big bills?"

"Hundreds."