by Parnell Hall
“So? What am I going to do, introduce you as my cousin from Des Moines?”
“You got a cousin in Des Moines?”
“I got a headache. I got a big fuckin’ headache.”
MacAullif glared at me, then walked around his desk, sat down in his chair. He opened his desk drawer, took out a cigar.
That was wonderful news. MacAullif had quit smoking cigars, but he often played with them when he talked. His picking it up was a good sign.
As if realizing this, MacAullif dropped the cigar and slammed the drawer. No matter. The intent was there. I was still in his office and we were both sitting down.
“This ADA,” I said. “He close to an indictment?”
MacAullif cocked his head. “I am not talking about the case.”
“I know you’re not. I’m not talking about it, either. Just passing the time of day.”
“You can pass gas for all I care. But pass it elsewhere.”
I grimaced, shook my head. “Funny thing about the alibi.”
“Alibi?”
“Yeah. Carbinder’s alibi. That’s got to be a kick in the teeth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Here you are, running around, trying to make a case against the guy. I bet this Beef Wellington ADA’s looking to indict him, right? And you’ll be a witness. Go before the grand jury, tell ’em what you know. Next thing you know, the guy’s indicted and bound over for trial. Now, you tell me, how pissed off is Beef Wellington gonna be when we spring the alibi?”
“Stop calling him Beef Wellington.”
“Why, you don’t think it’s funny?”
“No, you dumb fuck. I’m afraid I’ll do it. Listen, is this alibi for real?”
“Damn straight.”
“How solid is it?”
“Six witnesses.”
“Six?”
“Give or take. At least five.”
“For what time?”
“How’s eight until two grab you?”
“Eight at night until two in the morning?”
“You got it.”
“No shit.”
“None. Now, how’s your ADA gonna feel about that?”
“I’ve been a cop a long time. No alibi’s airtight.”
“This one is.”
“So you say. You talked to all these people?”
“Not yet. But I will.”
“Then do yourself a favor. Do a good job.”
“I intend to.”
“I’m sure you do. But you’re not a cop.”
“So what?”
“Even a cop will fuck it up—taking witness statements—and they’re trained for it. You’re an amateur. And you’re pretty fuckin’ gullible. Don’t trust what you hear.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“It’s not a tip. It’s a warning. This guy’s relying on an alibi you’re supplying, you better make sure it’s damn good.”
“Will eight to two suffice?”
MacAullif cocked his head. “Is that what this is all about? You tryin’ to find out the time of death?”
“You happen to know it?”
“Of course I happen to know it. You think I’m stupid?”
“You want me to answer that?”
“If you wanted to know the time of death, why didn’t you just ask me?”
“Would you have told me?”
“No, I’d have thrown you out of my office.”
“Sorry I didn’t ask.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t, either. Then you’d already be gone.”
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’. I gotta check out this alibi.”
“You do that.”
“And if I nail it down, rock solid, eight till two—would you like to know?”
“Oh, sure,” MacAullif said. “It would be a great personal favor. It would allow me to drop the case.”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”
“That’s not sarcastic. You wanna see sarcastic, wait’ll you meet Wellington.”
“Beef, baby?”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell him you made it up.”
MacAullif’s eyes narrowed. “If you do that, I swear they won’t find enough of you to bury.”
“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. But this alibi.”
“What about it?”
“You won’t tell me the time of death and you’re gonna throw me out of your office. That’s fine. That’s understandable. That’s reasonable. But if I nail the alibi, from eight until two—will that do it?”
“Do it?”
“Don’t be dense. You say no alibi’s airtight. But if it is—if my client really wasn’t there from eight till two—is he off the hook?”
MacAullif raised one finger. “You quote me on this, I’ll cut your balls off.”
“I’m not looking for a quote. I’m looking for a guideline within which to work.”
MacAullif chuckled. Shook his head. “Oh, talk about setups.”
“Come on, MacAullif. Off the record.”
“Off the record?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head. “Fuck you. Not even off the record. You shouldn’t even be in here.”
“MacAullif—”
“No. That’s it. No favors. Get the fuck out of here and let me work.”
Shit. I’d done my best, but it hadn’t worked. I stood up.
“Thank you,” MacAullif said. “Now, you go do your work. But let me give you a little hint.”
I’d turned to the door. Now I turned back. “Oh?”
“I think the guy’s guilty. So, if I were you, I’d be very careful with those witnesses.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re not going to be able to prove an alibi from eight till two.”
13
RICHARD WASN’T IMPRESSED.
“You did what.”
“Hey, take it easy.”
“Take it easy? You go blabbing to the cops and tell me to take it easy?”
“I didn’t go blabbing to the cops.”
“Oh, no? What’s this you told MacAullif?”
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
“You told him we got an alibi.”
“I wasn’t specific.”
“You weren’t specific?” Richard threw his hands in the air. “Oh, well, it’s all right then. You weren’t specific. You went and told the cops our defense strategy, but, hey, don’t worry, there was nothing specific.”
“Richard—”
“What in the name of god induced you to tell MacAullif that? What, he’s a friend of yours, you can’t keep nothing back?”
“Give me a break. I thought you wanted to find out the time of death.”
“I did want to find out the time of death. I still want to find out the time of death. So, tell me, what’s the time of death?”
“I don’t know.”
“There you are.”
“But I know generally.”
“We knew generally before you went there.”
“We know more.”
“We know shit. What the hell is the big idea?”
“I told you. I had to tell MacAullif he had an alibi to goad him into giving us the time of death.”
“Goad? You call that a goad?”
“Well, to finesse him, then.”
“Finesse? You call what you did finesse?”
“Give me a break. I just did what you asked me to.”
Richard held up his hand. “Whoa. Time out. Reality check. Do you recall me telling you to goad MacAullif, to finesse MacAullif, or anything of the kind? No. All I asked you to do was go find out the time of death.”
“That’s what I did.”
“Oh, yeah? Did you ask him the time of death?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It wouldn’t have done any good.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me so.”
>
“He told you so?”
“Yeah.”
Richard rolled his eyes, looked back at me. “Let me be sure I understand this. You didn’t ask him the time of death, you asked him what he would say if you asked him the time of death?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
I took a breath, looked at Richard. “You know what it was like? It was like this conversation. It was like getting beat up. It was like getting pummeled by sarcasm. It was sparring and jabbing. Just between you and me, it was no fun at all.”
“Fun? You think I’m paying you to have fun?”
“No. I think you’re paying me to get what I can out of MacAullif.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“He ain’t givin’. As you might expect. If you were being reasonable here, you’d be happy for what I got, instead of grousing about what I didn’t.”
“I’m not grousing about what you didn’t get. I’m ripshit about what you gave.”
“Oh,” I said. “What a calamity. And how disastrous. An alibi’s such a novel concept, the cops never would have thought of it.”
“I’m sure they’d have thought of it,” Richard said. “What they wouldn’t have been able to do would be confirm it and define it. We’ve already established that you’ve confirmed it. Just how well did you define it?”
“Not at all.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I thought you brought it up just to establish a time frame.”
“Right.”
“And what was that time frame?”
“Eight till two.”
“You told MacAullif that?”
“Of course.”
“Well, that defines it a little. An alibi from eight till two. Did you discuss how many people were supplying this alibi?”
I took a breath. Said nothing.
“Well, did you discuss that?”
“I told him at least five, maybe six people.”
“So. The alibi is from eight till two, verified by five to six witnesses.” Richard cocked his head. “I’m having a little trouble following your logic here. Would you mind pointing out any way in which you didn’t define this alibi?”
“I didn’t say it was a poker game.”
“You didn’t say it was a poker game? Oh, well, then the cops have no idea what was going on. They happen to know Anson Carbinder was in the company of five to six people from eight until two, but they don’t know that they were playing cards. These people might have been drinking, talking, or playing charades, but cards were never mentioned.”
“Neither was a name or location,” I pointed out.
“Oh, really? You didn’t hint? You didn’t even say Sounds like?”
“You want to gripe all morning, or you want to take a look at what I got?”
“What’ve you got?”
“Off the record I got MacAullif’s assurance that, if the alibi holds up, Carbinder’s off the hook.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he told me it wouldn’t.”
“What wouldn’t?”
“The alibi—it wouldn’t hold up.”
“How does he know that?”
“He doesn’t know that. He was giving me something.”
“What was he giving you?”
“Help with the time of death. He made two statements. Carbinder’s guilty, and the alibi won’t hold up.”
“That tells you the time of death?”
“The way he said it, yes. It was cause and effect. If Carbinder’s guilty, the alibi won’t hold up.”
“He said if.”
“No, he said it the other way around. He said it won’t hold up because he’s guilty.”
“In so many words?”
“No, but that was the implication.”
“You’re giving me an implication?”
“No, I’m giving you what I got. For what it’s worth, I have MacAullif’s assurance the time of death’s between eight and two.”
“Okay,” Richard said. “However it was arrived at, MacAullif gave you this time of death?”
“That’s right.”
“Would he lie?”
“Huh?”
“Would he lie to you?”
“No.”
“Don’t be too sure. You’ve never been in this situation before.”
“What situation?”
“You’re working for the defense attorney. The cops are on the other side.”
“The cops are always on the other side.”
“No, they’re not. You have this sort of storybook mentality, where you always feel like you’re competing with the cops, but that’s something else. This is a pitched battle. Two sides, diametrically opposed. My job is to do everything I can to get my client off. And their job is to do everything to nail the motherfucker.” Richard shrugged. “Not that they necessarily think he’s guilty, but once he’s charged, that’s their job.”
“That’s another thing.”
“What?”
“Once he’s charged. So far, he isn’t even charged.”
“Yeah, but he will be.”
“How do you know?”
“Are you kidding me? He’s the husband, he’s got blood on his hands. And the cops got nothing else. You think they won’t charge him?”
“No, I’m sure they will. That’s the other thing I got out of MacAullif.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re putting together a grand jury, getting ready to indict.”
“Geez, what a surprise. I never would have guessed.”
“Yeah, well, this ADA Wellington—”
“Beef Wellington? That’s good. That’s the only thing you’ve said today I’ve liked.”
“Yeah, well, he don’t like you.”
“Oh?”
“That’s what I got from MacAullif. The guy’s a young hotshot, apparently you got on his nerves.”
“He got on mine.”
“I’m sure he did. Anyway, the point is MacAullif says it’s personal.”
“It always is.”
“Always? How can you say that? I thought this was your first murder trial.”
“A trial’s a trial.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Does Anson Carbinder know that’s your attitude?”
“Don’t be dumb. The point is, personal injury or murder, you have an adversarial position where everyone’s trying their best to win. I don’t like opposing counsel and they don’t like me. There’s nothing new there. Anyway, the point is, we’re in a fight and I intend to win. It’s as simple as that.” He shrugged. “And so far I’m winning. I sent you to MacAullif. Good move on my part. As badly as you botched the interview, we still got a lead on the time of death. If I’m to take your assurance that what MacAullif gave out is the truth.”
“That’s my opinion.”
“Good. I like that. If it works, I’m a genius. If it doesn’t, you’re to blame.”
“Richard—”
“But, for the time being, let’s assume MacAullif was telling the truth.”
“Okay. Say he was. What then?”
“Better nail the alibi.”
14
“MY FRIENDS CALL ME B.B.”
That was news to me. None of the other poker players had referred to Barry Brown as B.B. It occurred to me, maybe they weren’t really his friends.
Barry Brown was one of those people who strike you as obnoxious right away. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t speak for everyone. But he certainly struck me as obnoxious. Barry Brown, or B.B., as he imagined himself being affectionately referred to, was a chunky little man. Not fat, just solid. He had darting eyes, a piercing stare, and an insolent manner. Again, I’m projecting, but that’s what I saw. Maybe it was just his body type. Maybe if he’d had a layer of blubber on him, he’d have seemed less threatening.
And someone might have called him B.B.
I wasn’t about to.
“I understand you were in a poker game,” I said.
“Yes, of course. I assume you’ve already spoken to the others?”
“You assume?”
“This happened two days ago. I wouldn’t imagine I’m the first.”
“You mean no one’s called you?”
“Huh?”
“To tell you I was asking questions? That I’d be calling on you next?”
His eyes narrowed. “Then you have spoken to the others?”
“Did you get such a call?”
Barry Brown leaned back in his chair. “I don’t like your manner.”
I didn’t like his. Barry Brown was the head of an advertising agency, which is probably why I resented him so much. When I was trying to make it as an actor, way back when, I remember I got a callback for a national TV ad. For once, I did a good audition, the casting director liked me, and it seemed as if lightning had struck and I was actually going to make some money. Then the head of the agency walked in, took one look, said, “No, I want a blond,” turned on his heel and walked out, and that was it.
Which is probably why I was taking no shit from Barry Brown.
I stood up. “I’m sorry to offend you,” I said. “I assumed you wanted to help Mr. Carbinder. I’ll inform his attorney that such is not the case.” And I folded my notebook and turned to go.
“Hey, just a damn minute here,” Barry Brown said.
I turned back. “I beg your pardon?”
Brown had stood up. Now he pointed his finger at me. “Don’t be stupid, now. Of course I want to help Anson. Come back and sit down.”
“Will you answer my questions?”
“I’m perfectly willing to answer your questions. I just don’t see why you can’t answer mine.”
“Would you like me to explain it to you?”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“My job is to collect information, not give it out.”
“That’s silly.”
“No, it isn’t. I’m taking witness statements. My job is to get your impression and see how it compares with the others, not tell you what the others said and ask you if you agree.”
“I didn’t ask you what the others said. I just asked you if you talked to anybody else.”
“And I asked you if anyone had called to tell you that I had.”
We stood there glaring at each other for a few moments. Then Barry Brown exhaled and sat back down in his seat. “Sam Kestin called.”
A small victory, but one’s own. I tried not to smirk. “I had a feeling he had. Did he discuss what you’re going to say?”