Death Dance

by Linda Fairstein

  It was after five o'clock and workers were beginning to emerge from office buildings up and down the street. Mike cut a path through the crowds and I followed in his wake, down 56th and south on Sixth Avenue, then around the corner until we found the car.

  The ride to the Belasco was slow, rush-how traffic blocking each intersection as we crawled down Seventh Avenue behind commuter buses and an army of Yellow Cabs.

  I called the DA's Squad office to ask the captain how soon he could make Vito available to us, so I could urge Battaglia to back me up if he was in the middle of another case.

  "He did an eight-to-four today, Alex. I can beep him but he was going off to his kid's Little League game. He may not call in for a couple of hoars."

  "Can we have him tomorrow?"

  "No problem. He's doing another day tour. He'll be in the tech room when he comes on. Just call him and tell him what you need."

  "Thanks a lot."

  "You got a green light?" Mike asked.

  "You and Mercer can figure out where you want him to start."

  "Depends what we get out of Joe Berk now."

  "He's just going to deny it again," I said.

  "Then you're gonna have to get a search warrant. He can deny all he wants but you and I saw those tulips on the screen in his bed-room the first time we were there. If I have to choke the old bastard, I'm gonna get answers this time."

  "You've got to keep it calm. He tunes you out when you go wild on him."

  "Wild? He hasn't seen me even halfway to vicious yet. I've been saving up for this kind of encounter."

  Mike got out of the car and slammed the door. We walked up the street to the Belasco and headed for the entrance to Berk's apartment just west of the theater.

  Mike stepped aside to let me enter and I was startled to come face-to-face with a man in a dark suit and sunglasses who was standing at the elevator controls.

  Before I could say my name he had pressed the button and told us to go right up.

  I was surprised to have such easy access, and I smiled at Mike as we rode up to Berk's office. As I pushed open the door, which was ajar, I could hear loud voices-a lot of them-and it was clear that the man downstairs who let us in assumed we were on the list for whatever party was in progress.

  Mike followed me inside, and I scanned the dozen faces but saw no one familiar in the grand office, ringed with its bizarre collection of Napoleonic memorabilia.

  My eye was drawn to the top of the staircase, outside Joe's bedroom, where Mona Berk and Ross Kehoe were engaged in a lively conversation with a man, clinking their cocktail glasses together and laughing at whatever story Kehoe was telling.

  The young man seated in Berk's desk chair had just uncorked a bottle of champagne when he spotted the two of us entering the room.

  "Come on in," he said, getting to his feet and walking over to greet us. "I'm Briggs. Briggs Berk. Joe's son. Have we met?"

  "Chapman, Mike Chapman. This is Alexandra Cooper," Mike said, choosing not to further identify us as police and prosecutor in case the kid didn't know about our involvement with his father. "We're here for Joe."

  Briggs put a hand on Mike's shoulder and laughed. "We're all here for Joe. What are you drinking?"

  "No thanks. We'd like to see him, if we can. I need to talk to him for a few minutes. I don't want to break this up but it's kind of urgent."

  "Talk to him? Can't help you with that, Mike. If you want to see him, the viewing doesn't start till tomorrow afternoon. Frank Campbell's, three o'clock."

  Campbell 's was the most famous funeral parlor in Manhattan, known for its tasteful wakes and services for well-to-do New Yorkers.

  "Right now," Briggs said, "the only place you can see Joe Berk is the morgue."

  39

  "I didn't know you guys were cops," Briggs said, blanching as he planted the champagne bottle on his late father's desk and led us into a small study off the main room."I'm-uh-I'm sorry for- uh- "

  He didn't seem to know for which offense he was apologizing, but the display of Mike's shield had sobered his disposition.

  "We've got to make a couple of calls. You mind leaving us alone in here?"

  Briggs closed the door behind him and must have signaled the reveling mourners to quiet down. Mike called the ME's office and reached the attendant on duty.

  "Get me Dr. Kestenbaum," he said to the clerk who answered the phone.

  "Talk about dancing on the grave," I said. "What a disgusting display."

  "You expected better from the Berks? I just want to know who pulled the plug on him. Too many happy people in there. And pretty ironic that he and Galinova are sleeping together again, side by side."

  "No wonder Mona was in such a rush to get here for the celebration."

  "Hello, doc? Chapman here. You got the Wizard of the Great White Way ready for his surgical debut?" Mike winked at me. "What do you mean, who? Joe Berk. I'm talking about Joe Berk."

  Chapman listened for several minutes and then repeated the conversation to me after he hung up. "They're going to do the autopsy tonight, but his death has all the signs of a stroke. Damn, I would have bet the odds he didn't die of natural causes. Especially before I got to rattle him."

  "I wonder what Joe's medical condition was. I mean, I hope that we didn't-"

  "Don't go feeling all guilty on me, Coop, like we brought it on by aggravating him this morning. Kestenbaum says it's a logical after-effect of the electrical event."

  "Electrical event? He makes it sound like a Broadway production. Meaning what?"

  "Berk survived the jolt from stepping on the manhole cover. But apparently people who live through that experience can develop clotting in the blood vessels along the path that carried the current through the body. So it's not unusual to have a-what'd he call it?- an arterial thrombosis in the first few weeks after the accident. A stroke is what killed him."

  "And I was just beginning to feel we were so close to connecting Berk to Galinova's murder, to figuring out what was going on between them."

  "Let's keep at it. Suppose he did it, suppose he's still the main suspect? There's stuff to tie up here," Mike said, opening the door to the office.

  It looked as though several people had left while we were in the study, but Mona Berk and Ross Kehoe had come downstairs to talk to Briggs. Before I could get any farther, the elevator doors opened and the squat figure of Rinaldo Vicci burst into the room.

  "Briggsley, my boy," Vicci said, rolling his r in dramatic fashion, ignoring both of us and embracing the young man. "I came as soon as I heard the news. It's impossible to believe. Such a force, such a great life force."

  Mona let them talk and walked over to us, glass in hand. "Some things are just meant to be, Mike, aren't they?"

  "Seems to me you could have waited another few days before starting the celebration."

  "You know, in my head I had it figured he was dead a week ago, the first time I got the call. Sort of like a dress rehearsal," Mona said, smiling. "Made it so much easier to take when I got the news today. It wouldn't become me to fake my grief, would it?"

  Briggs turned back to us. "Mona told me why you were here last week. This really isn't the right time to be bringing a criminal investigation into my father's-"

  "Oh, yeah? And you're giving death etiquette lessons while you got a party going on here? Let me start by extending my sympathy to you. Sincerely. You can't imagine quite bow sincerely because of how unfortunate the timing of your father's passing is for me. I had bigger plans for him."

  "Why don't you tell us what happened today? " I said.

  A semicircle had been formed now. Briggs in the middle, facing us, with Mona next to him and Ross Kehoe stroking her back as he watched the scene. Vicci was on the other side of Briggs, his hands clenched and poised against his lips, as though in prayer. There were four men and one woman gathering across the room.

  Mike told them to be sure not to leave before giving us their names.

  "I'm so tired I can't
even think straight," Briggs said.

  "When did you get back to New York?"

  "From the coast? I took the red-eye Saturday night. I've been up since then."

  "Did you see your father yesterday?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I was here. Look, do I have to answer your questions right now? I mean, I'm sure my lawyer would like to be here."

  "Your lawyer? You in some kind of trouble?" Mike asked facetiously.

  Ross Kehoe answered for Briggs. "Not a criminal lawyer, Mr. Chapman. Obviously, Briggs had to get Joe's attorney over here right away. There's a lot to attend to, a lot of financial matters to work out."

  Kehoe had left Mona's side and was trying to create some physical distance between Briggs and the two of us.

  "We don't mean to upset any of you any further. We'd just like to know-well, how Joe died and who was with him," I said.

  "He was alone," Briggs said. "I mean, the nurse was here. She's the one who found him. She said he'd had a bad night."

  That didn't make me feel any better about having dropped by to stir things up in the morning.

  "Your visit with him on Sunday-was it just a regular-well…?" I didn't even know how to phrase the question. I couldn't imagine anything normal about the Berk family, but I didn't want to put the word confrontational on the table.

  Mona started to speak. "My uncle loved Briggs. Why don't you sit down?" she said, turning to her cousin, who seemed to be wilting before our eyes.

  Kehoe picked up the conversation. "Detective, the kid's been through a lot. None of his siblings give a damn about him. He and his father were getting along really well these past few months. How about a couple of days to let him absorb this?"

  "Whatever the doctor says. Take some Tylenol, get plenty of rest, and, by the way, lay off the buckets of champagne. They don't mix well with formaldehyde."

  Mona was trying to keep Briggs calm, so I asked Ross Kehoe, "What did the nurse say about Mr. Berk's death?"

  "Only that she checked on him at about eleven a.m. He was complaining of a headache and she put him back in bed for a nap. When she went in to bring him some food an hour later, she couldn't wake him up."

  "Did his physician-"

  "Yes, of course. The nurse called nine-one-one. EMTs arrived first but it was all over. Joe's personal physician was here within the hour."

  "You and Mona?"

  Kehoe held up his hands. "Hey. Briggs called Mona to tell us about it and we came over because of how Mona feels about Briggs. Joe and Mona in the same room would have been a recipe for disaster."

  "How'd you get along with Joe?" I asked.

  Kehoe put his hands in the rear pockets of his jeans. "Which day of the week?"

  "Didn't you work for him once?" Mike asked.

  "That's right. I had no beef with Joe. He was good to me back then. No surprise he didn't like to think of me marrying into the bloodline, but he treated me fine."

  Of all the people in the room-and all those we had met in the course of the investigation-Mike seemed to get the most out of Ross Kehoe. Something about his blue-collar background, the rough edges of his city accent, reduced what Mike liked to call the bullshit factor. I imagine his appearance had changed once Mona came into his life-finer clothes, expensive suede loafers that he sported today, a stylish haircut-but the basic bones looked as much like a cop's as did Mike's.

  "What'd you do for Berk?" I asked.

  "Everything. Met him in one of his theaters. My old man was in the union-you know the way this business is. Joe thought I could do things-I don't want to blow my own horn-but I was kind of a jack-of-all-trades, and I could deal with his temper better than most."

  "What did you do for him, exactly?"

  "Stage crew kind of stuff, originally. A couple of years back, before I met Mona, I was his driver. That's when we got kind of friendly. He even put me into some investments. Some good deals that I scored on. Mona likes bling-and it got to the point I could buy it for her myself."

  "Joe fire you?"

  "Nah. I just left. It wasn't gonna work with me getting so close to Mona."

  While we were talking, I saw Mona Berk walk away from Briggs and start back up the staircase, nodding to Rinaldo Vicci to join her.

  I elbowed Mike, who followed after them.

  Mona paused on the fourth step and turned to face him. "Once again, it's time for me to tell you to get out of here, if you and your girlfriend don't mind."

  Mike kept jogging up the stairs.

  "Detective, where do you think you're going?"

  "I just need to check out something in Mr. Berk's room."

  She raised her voice. "Where's your warrant, detective?"

  "Where's your standing?" he said to her as she tried to catch up with him.

  "What do you mean, standing?"

  Mike was at the top of the stairs. "This is Joe Berk's place. And since Uncle Joe has gone to meet his maker, you haven't got any more legal right to tell me to get out of here than Houdini does. You got no standing."

  "Ross, is that true?"

  Kehoe shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not getting into this one. I'm not a lawyer, babe. I don't know who's right here."

  "Briggs? Say something, goddamn it," Mona screamed to her cousin.

  I dashed up the stairs to try to broker a deal but Mona raced past Mike into Joe's bedroom and pulled the door shut behind her.

  "Wait a minute, detective, will you? What do you want? What are you looking for?" Briggs trudged to the bottom of the steps and held on to the banister. "I want to be there when you're looking around my dad's stuff, okay? Don't you think that's fair?"

  "Fair isn't in my vocabulary for you or for anyone else in your family-for this whole cast of characters. You're all so used to dealing with make-believe that you don't know when to wake up and tell the truth."

  Mike walked to the bedroom door and turned the knob. Neither one of us should have been surprised that Mona had locked it when she went inside.

  Mike kicked and pushed against it, but the heavy oak panels didn't budge. Briggs climbed the staircase while Ross called out to Mona to be reasonable and open the door.

  Rinaldo Vicci went to Berk's desk and pulled out the top drawer."Piano, piano. Slow down, everybody. Calm yourselves."

  Vicci walked to the bottom of the staircase and Mike trotted down for the ornate brass key. He put it in the lock and the door opened.

  The room was empty. Even Berk's bed had been stripped of its linens and all the medications on his nightstand. The only things that looked out of order were a few open dresser drawers and a closet left ajar.

  Mona Berk had taken the private elevator-the one that had ferried showgirls directly to the bedroom for David Belasco and the late Joe Berk-and left the building. I couldn't imagine what she might have taken with her.

  40

  Mike was ripped. He went first to the closet and started looking through it, pushing hangers apart, pulling shoe boxes off shelves and tossing them on the floor.

  "You got to stop this, Mike. You can't do it."

  "Take a hike, Coop. This time he's really dead and I can do-"

  "You don't even know what you're looking for."

  "Why? Those jerks on the Supreme Court were so many light-years ahead of me? I'll know it when I see it, isn't that what they said? It works for me, too."

  Briggs was in the doorway, oblivious to Mike's reference to the famous opinion on pornography rendered by Justice Potter Stewart more than thirty years ago. "What…?"

  Now he looked like every other junkie crashing down from a cocaine high. His eyes were red-not from crying, we knew-and he was sniffing constantly. His hand was shaking as he tried to find a surface on which to rest it.

  "Alex, go ask Kehoe where his beloved went. Tell him to get her on the phone, pronto," Mike said, rifling through dresser drawers. "Briggs, d'you ever go to the movies with your father?"

  "Shows. Mostly shows, you know? Broadway."

  "Do what I told you, Alex."

&
nbsp; I didn't want to leave Mike alone in the room with Briggs. I didn't want him flipping out at the kid.

  "Go. Get Kehoe. I'm talking home movies, kid. Ever see the monitors your father had in this room?"

  Mike waved me out. I guess he hoped Joe's son would speak more candidly about his father's habits if I wasn't there.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Briggs said as I walked away to the top of the stairs.

  Vicci was on his cell and Kehoe was using the phone on Berk's desk.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Kehoe. Why don't you give Mona a call?" I asked. "We've got a few more questions for her."

  He covered the receiver with his hand. "Let her cool down. She's on her way home. I can handle this more diplomatically than Chapman, okay?"

  I stepped to the side and called Mercer to bring him up to speed. He was still at the City Center office tower, which was basically closed down for the evening, and he was waiting for our return in one of the management offices in which Stan had set him up.

  "Call Peterson for me. Ask him to get a team to sit on Mona Berk's loft in SoHo. The address is in the DD5S. Keep an eye on her till Mike figures out what he wants to do next. And maybe the lieutenant ought to set somebody up over here. I may need to draff a warrant 'cause Mike's convinced Berk has videos or more photographs-something to give us a break. It wouldn't hurt to have someone safeguarding this place overnight."

  "You know what Peterson's going to tell me. No manpower."

  "Let him pull some of the guys from the Met task force before they knock off for the day. It's important."

  Rinaldo Vicci was saying good-bye to Kehoe as I approached them. "Please, Mr. Vicci. I'd prefer that you don't leave yet. Detective Chapman may have a few questions for you."