Mob Lawyer

by Dave Daren

  “Which publishing house?” I asked, mostly just to see how much she knew about Francie.

  “Ummm, something Brothers,” she said. “Smithson, I think?”

  I nodded, though I would have to confirm that with Anthony. One of us would probably have to talk to her office mates, though it seemed unlikely that they would know much about her after-work activities. But then, Francie may have believed that as well, which could have made her careless around a fellow office worker if she met one at a party.

  “Tell me about this party you went to,” I suggested.

  “It was totally amazing,” Nera said as she perked up. “Gabby got us the invites because she works for the guy who was handling the promotions. He does a lot of work for Della Ray. Have you heard of her?”

  I nodded, though my knowledge of Della Ray was limited to a discussion I’d overheard between two of the secretaries at McHale, Parrish, who had been debating how much money one of the partner’s wives had spent on her Della Ray outfit.

  “She’s awesome, right?” Nera continued. “So she was doing this special show in Chelsea for some fundraiser. Maybe homeless kids? And all the big names were there.”

  “So you watched the show,” I prodded.

  “I wish I had the money to buy some of her stuff,” Nera pouted. “There was this amazing jacket that would look so perfect with this Dior dress I have.”

  “You’ll have to save up,” I said.

  Nera made a face at the idea of having to save her money.

  “After the show, it was just this great big party,” Nera added after she took another long sip of her chocolate. “Most of the A list left, but once the champagne and the e came out, no one cared.”

  “When did Francie decide she wanted to leave?” I asked.

  “Ummm, we must have been there a couple of hours or so,” she replied. “I sort of lost track of time.”

  “Why did she want to leave?” I asked.

  “Well, she said she didn’t want to be late to work in the morning,” Nera mused. “And that was probably true, but there were these guys that had sort of latched onto us. We were having a good time, but Francie didn’t seem to like them. I guess when she realized that we weren’t going to ditch the guys for her, she decided it was time to go home.”

  “Walk me through that,” I said. “How did she end up calling Anthony?”

  “Well, we were all going to split a cab at the end of the night since we live near each other,” Nera replied. “But when she decided to leave early, she talked about taking the subway instead. We talked her out of it, though. I mean, you don’t want to wear your party clothes on the subway, right?”

  “Sure,” I agreed though I’d seen plenty of men and women in party clothes on the subway at all hours of the day and night. Heck, I’d seen a couple in a wedding gown and tux just a couple of weeks ago.

  “We told her to call Tony,” Nera admitted. “She didn’t want to at first because he told her he had to finish some big presentation or something, but we told her he could probably use the break. Things were getting pretty hot and heavy with the guys by then, so she decided to call him.”

  “I can see that,” I prodded. “Then what happened?”

  “Then this other guy joined us,” Nera said as she squinted at the dregs of her hot chocolate. It was, I realized, a sign that she was trying to remember.

  “Did you recognize him?” I asked. “Maybe you’d met him at another party?”

  “No,” Nera replied though she sended uncertain. “He started to talk to Francie, and at first she sort of ignored him, like she always did, but then he said something like ‘don’t you remember me? We went to high school together.’ and then he started talking about high school.”

  “Did she believe him?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Nera said. “I mean, he did seem to know a lot, and Francie knew a lot of the same stories, but I’m not sure if she ever really remembered him. And then he said he used to hang out with Tony all the time, and he talked about Tony. I might have said something about Tony coming to pick her up and they could all hang out together and have a reunion, and the guy said that would be great.”

  “Did he ever give Francie his name?” I inquired.

  “Huh,” Nera replied. “If he did, I didn’t hear it. But he must have. I mean, why would you tell someone you knew them and then not give your name?”

  Why, indeed, I thought.

  “So when did he offer to drive Francie home?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nera said with another squint. “I mean, he must have at some point, but I don’t think I heard it. One minute, they were both there talking about high school, and then they got up and left.”

  “And you didn’t think that was odd?” I wondered aloud.

  “Well, maybe for a moment,” she admitted. “But I knew she wouldn’t go anywhere with someone she didn’t know.”

  And that was the heart of the problem. Who was this other person that Francie seemed unsure about? And why would she have gone with him if Anthony was on his way to collect her?

  “Did you see Francie again after she left with this other man?” I asked.

  “No, that was it,” Nera said sadly. “Until I saw the texts this morning, I had no idea that anything had happened.”

  “Okay, so tell me what happened when Anthony arrived,” I suggested.

  “I don’t know how long he had been there before I saw him,” she said. “But he made a beeline for our group, and he looked sort of pissed off when he didn’t see Francie. We told him that she’d met a high school friend and gotten a ride with him.”

  “Even though you weren’t sure,” I added.

  “Well…” she mumbled. “I mean we said we thought she’d done that but we didn’t say she had done that. Anyway, we were right. He tried to call her a few times, and then I think he pinged her phone or something. When he realized she was really gone, he got pretty angry. And then Jackie threw up on his shoes. It was a pretty bad scene.”

  “Did he threaten to hurt Francie in any way?” I asked.

  “No, not Tony,” Nera said quickly. “He just dropped a few f bombs, then said he wasn’t going to be her personal taxi service anymore. That’s when he left.”

  “And you didn’t see either of them again after that?” I pressed.

  “Nope,” Nera sighed. “And I don’t believe what they’re saying about Tony. There’s no way he’d hurt Francie.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping we can prove,” I said.

  Nera nodded and poked at the last few flakes of her croissant.

  “Can you describe him to me?” I asked.

  “Who?” she asked in confusion.

  “The man who talked to Francie at the party,” I explained. “The one who said he knew her and Anthony in high school.”

  Nera squinted again, and I could almost smell the smoke as her mental gears tried to conjure up an image of someone she had seen in the flashing lights of a dance floor while she was either high or drunk, or both.

  “He was pretty ordinary,” she finally said. “I think he had black hair, or maybe brown. And brown eyes.”

  “What about the shape of his face?” I asked. “Or how tall he was?”

  “I think he was shorter than me, by like an inch or two,” she mused. “And he had stubble on his face, but not the cool kind. I really didn’t notice anything else about him.”

  “What about his clothes?” I asked since I guessed she would have paid more attention to that.

  “He did have decent clothes,” she observed. “The shirt was from TopShop, I know that, and he had on a pair of Common Projects, so he has some money. Oh, and he had a necklace.”

  Bingo.

  “Can you describe the necklace?” I prodded when she started to squint again.

  “It was religious, like a cross, but it was sort of fancy,” she said. “I mean, he kept it inside his shirt so it was hard to see unless he leaned forward and it came out.”

&n
bsp; “Why would you say fancy?” I pressed.

  “Most crosses are just plain,” she explained. “But this one had vines or something on it, and it looked old. Oh, and there was a stone set in the middle.”

  “There, you see,” I complimented her. “You saw a lot more than you thought.”

  “I guess I did,” she said happily.

  “If you remember anything else,” I said as I slid a business card across the table, “Please call me. It’s important that we find this person.”

  “Anything to help Tony,” she replied. “And to find her real killer.”

  It sounded like something from an old cop show, but she looked sincere. She picked up my card and studied it for a moment, then slid it into a pocket hidden in the waistband of her skirt. We stood up together, and after an awkward goodbye, we went our separate ways.

  I managed to catch a downtown Four just before it left the station, and I spent the trip reviewing what Nera had told me. She had passed along more information than she realized, but the more intriguing part to me was the fact that the man hadn’t given a name, at least not one that Nera could remember. I was anxious to meet with the other friend, to see if she could confirm that much, at least.

  I checked my watch as I stepped off the subway and decided I had enough time to talk to the second friend before I had to put in my appearance at the office. The second friend, Gabby who worked for the promotions guy, worked in a building near the stock exchange, a three-story Depression Era construct in a sea of skyscrapers. There was an Indian restaurant on the ground floor and a tailor on the second floor. BDM Productions occupied the entire third floor, which meant it was probably only slightly larger than my apartment.

  The door was locked but a sign by the buzzer advised me to ring for entry. I did, and a few moments later, Nera’s opposite opened the door. She was on the short side, and very curvy. Her black skin was smooth and unlined by years in the sun, and her eyes were as dark as coal. And while Nera had looked the part of a tennis player, with minimal make-up and sports attire, the woman at the door had purple eyeshadow and lipstick to match the purple maxi dress she wore. Gold bangles clicked on both wrists as we studied each other in the door.

  “You must be the attorney,” she noted in a smooth voice. “Nera texted to say you might stop by.”

  “Do you have a few minutes?” I asked when she didn’t grant me entry into BDM Productions.

  “We can talk in the conference room,” she replied as she finally stepped back. “But we have a client coming in soon, so we need to keep it short.”

  “That’s fine,” I accepted as I moved past her.

  I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but most of the space had been opened up to reveal an area that was quite a bit larger than I had expected. There were three desks scattered around the edge of the room, while the center was taken up with a large table littered with sketches and samples. An older man with gray at the temples stood over the center table and picked through a variety of fabric swatches. He glanced up when we stepped inside, and then looked at Gabby.

  “This is Lionel Moore,” she said by way of introduction, “and this is Hunter Morgan. He’s come to ask about my friend.”

  Moore nodded, then returned his attention to the table. Gabby led me towards two doors at the back of the office, one with the universal sign for a bathroom, and the other for the conference room that could be seen through the glass wall. The room wasn’t huge, but it was quiet. Gabby pressed a button on the wall as we stepped inside and the glass turned a smokey color that prevented anyone from looking inside.

  “That’s handy,” I noted.

  “Oh, force of habit,” she said. “I can make it clear again if you want. Lionel had it installed because people in the conference room kept getting distracted by whatever was happening in the office.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it,” I remarked. “Well, there are those sun sensitive glasses, I suppose.”

  “He got the idea in a bathroom,” Gabby confided as we both sat down. “Some restaurant he went to had it.”

  “Hmmm,” I murmured. “I’m not sure I’d want to use that bathroom. What happens if the glass isn’t working?”

  “Exactly what I said,” Gabby snorted as her bangles clacked against the wood table.

  “So, you know who I am,” I noted as I once again started to record.

  “I do,” she said in a more solemn tone. “When I saw the news, I was just stunned. Francie, of all people. And then to blame Tony. The police couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “Nera told me what she could remember,” I remarked. “And now I’d like to hear what you remember.”

  Gabby closed her eyes and swayed in her chair for a moment.

  “We were having fun, especially at the start of the night,” she said without opening her eyes. “The fashions were to die for, and I saw a little dress that I would look smokin’ in. Can’t afford it, though, not yet. After the celebs left, it was more like the usual club crowd. There was this group of guys who were pretty hot for us, and they had some good weed. Francie was fine at first, but when one of the guys started really hitting on her, she decided she’d had enough.”

  “One of them was really hitting on her?” I asked.

  “Yeah, older, sort of a creeper vibe,” Gabby replied. “He probably figured no one else would go for Francie so he would.”

  “Nera didn’t mention him,” I noted.

  “Please,” Gabby snorted as she finally opened her eyes. “Girlfriend doesn’t notice any man who isn’t paying attention to her.”

  I grinned, and Gabby shook with the laughter she was trying to keep in.

  “Oh, Lord,” she finally muttered. “What you must think of us. But yeah, that was about the time Francie announced she was going to leave early. She was going to take the subway but we told her to call Tony, though I don’t know how he could hear her over the music. The creeper looked a little miffed, and he started looking around the floor for someone else to hit on. That’s when the other guy turned up.”

  “Tell me about him,” I said.

  Gabby closed her eyes again, but this time she remained still. Several moments passed before she spoke, and when she did, she spoke slowly, as if she were trying to relay every single detail.

  “He was average in every way,” she replied. “Dark hair, brown eyes, not as tall as you. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t superfit either. Jeans, yellow shirt with pineapples, and some cool treads from Common Project.”

  “Good,” I replied.

  “He had a necklace,” she added. “A cross with ivy or something wrapped around it. And I think there was something in the middle, like a stone or something. It was sort of big, bigger than most crosses you see these days except on rappers and rapper wannabes.”

  “Was he a rapper?” I asked.

  “No way,” she snickered.

  “Okay, so did he give a name?” I continued.

  Gabby frowned, and then her eyes popped open in surprise.

  “I don’t think he did,” she replied. “He just sat down and started talking about their high school days, and how great it was to run into someone he knew, but I don’t think he ever said anything like, ‘Hey, I’m Joe and we were in Miss So-and-so’s class together’.”

  “So what did he say?” I pressed.

  “Well, he talked about the school a lot, and funny stuff that happened while he was there,” Gabby said slowly. “He said he used to hang out with Tony a lot and he got Francie talking about some of the stuff they used to do together.”

  “But he never gave a name?” I clarified.

  “No,” Gabby said firmly. “And Francie never said one either. Actually, I don’t think she ever remembered the guy.”

  “But she left with him,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah,” Gabby said sadly. “I think she probably thought he was one of Tony’s friends and probably safe. And by that time, the creeper was starting to leer at her from across the ro
om, so she really wanted to leave. When this guy offered her a ride right then, she took it.”

  “Do you remember if anyone mentioned who was coming to pick her up?” I asked.

  Gabby cocked her head to one side, then slowly nodded.

  “Nera,” Gabby sighed. “She said Tony was on his way and they could have a class reunion. Everybody laughed because that’s the kind of stupid thing that sounds funny when you’re high on e and alcohol.”

  “Not weed?” I asked.

  “No, at least, not for me,” she replied. “It doesn’t do anything for me. But the guys had it and I think Nera had some. And Jackie.”

  “What about Francie?” I suggested.

  “She took a tab and had some champagne, but that was it,” Gabby asserted.

  “No heroin,” I added.

  “Oh, hell no,” Gabby declared.

  “Okay, so this possible classmate offered her a ride,” I said as I turned back to the story.

  “He did,” Gabby replied. “And she started to get up. Nera reminded her to call Tony and tell him she’d already left, but I don’t know if she really paid any attention. She had to squeeze by the creeper and he wasn’t making it easy for her. The classmate sort of pushed the guy back then led Francie away from the group. The creeper said something about finding some younger blood, and the guys all laughed. The creeper went off on his own then.”

  “Did the creeper ever return?” I asked.

  “He came by every so often,” Gabby mused. “Sometimes he’d have a girl with him but none of them stayed very long.”

  “When did Anthony arrive?” I asked.

  “It couldn’t have been that long after Francie left,” Gabby replied. “He came over to the table when he saw us, and we teased him about taking too long. We finally told him that she’d gone off with the other guy. He looked really angry when we told him that, and he left us for a bit. I think he searched the place, just to make sure she wasn’t there.”

  “You said Anthony was angry,” I responded.

  “Well, I don’t blame him,” Gabby snickered. “You drive all the way in from Queens and the person you’re supposed to pick up has already left. He tossed out a few ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ and asked us who the guy was, but we didn’t know. We were also pretty wasted by then, so we couldn’t have told him much.”