“Actually, no. He asked for you by name.”
“Did he? Getting less routine by the minute, Bill. This fellow got a name?”
“Yes. He calls himself Willie Lie.”
Karp waited and then said, “Well, I just checked my calendar, Bill, and I see it’s not April Fool’s Day, so. .”
The booming laugh again, more nervous still. “Yeah, yeah, I know, what a name for a witness. But the man seems legit to me. He’s an Asian gentleman.”
“Is he? Well, you can tell Mr. Lie to walk over to the nearest precinct and make his statement-”
“Uh-uh, no, sir. That’s out. Mr. Lie wishes to deal directly with you on this matter. He will not be forthcoming absent that.”
“And I assume you informed your client that all citizens have an obligation to help the police and that intentionally withholding information could be construed as hindering prosecution, which, given the underlying crime in question, would be a felony itself.”
“Yes, I explained all that to Mr. Lie. He still insists on you.”
“Any idea why?”
“Um, he says he doesn’t trust the police, but that you have a reputation as a man of honor. That’s almost a direct quote.”
“Well, that’s flattering,” said Karp, “and I’ll admit you’ve got me interested. Tell me one thing: What’s the source of Mr. Lie’s knowledge of the crime?”
A pause. “That’s something I think we’ll need to discuss face to face, Butch. Let me just say that my client has convinced me that his knowledge is comprehensive and authentic.”
Karp suddenly recalled Guma’s remark about all of the fine ethnic groups available as a supply of hit persons, and said, “Uh-huh. Bill, is there any chance that your guy is a participant in the crime in question?”
Another laugh, shorter and sharper. “Oh, I think when you meet him, you’ll see why that’s funny. But as far as any substantive information is concerned-”
“Yeah, right, you need to discuss it face to face. Okay, he wants to see me, I guess you know where the courthouse is. Why don’t we say four today?”
William Fogel was a broad, well-set-up man somewhat older than Karp, with fine yellow hair improved by an expensive hairpiece and a broad, friendly, ruddy face. He was wearing a double-breasted gray pinstripe, a yellow silk tie decorated with little scales of justice, and a gold Rolex set with diamond chips. He would have looked well in a courtroom, except that Bill Fogel had arranged his career so that he never had to go anywhere near a courtroom. His firm had guys who did that, in the rare cases when the Fogels of the bar did not arrange a mutally agreeable settlement.
His client would hardly have made half a Fogel. He sat on the edge of his chair like a child in the principal’s office, an Asian man, thin, bone-faced, with the short-sided rooster-crest haircut of the recent immigrant. He wore a cheap white shirt buttoned to the neck, dark pants, and black loafers. They were sitting around the round table in Karp’s office, and each of them had a yellow pad in front of them. Karp thought it significant that Lie was taking notes, too. They had covered the preliminary introductions, and Karp now said, “Let me first say what we’re about here. I’ll take the lead because it’s fair to say that I have the most experience with matters of this nature.” He glanced at Fogel, who gave him a grateful smile, and at Lie, who returned a noncommittal stare. “My only concern right now is to make it possible for Mr. Lie to convey whatever testimony he has in a way that will serve justice. No record is being made of the conversation we’re about to have, and at this point we can take it as being off the record. Agreeable?” They both nodded, and Karp was interested to see Fogel glance toward Lie before he gave his nod.
“That being the case, Mr. Lie, let’s hear what you have to say.”
Lie addressed his yellow pad, eyes downcast. “I come here, New York, in 1980. From Hong Kong. I very poor at this time. I-”
Karp said, “Excuse me, Mr. Lie, are you a legal immigrant?”
“No, smuggled. Mexico, Houston, Seattle, here. So, 1980, I poor, I have no job, no family, so start in gang. White Dragon gang. Very big gang in Chinatown. I work protect gambling, massage girls, fight other gangs, also what you call, get money from storekeeper, lei shi. .”
“Lucky money,” said Karp. “Extortion.”
“Yes, extortion.” He said the word carefully, as if it was one he really wanted to remember. Fogel gave Karp a curious look but said nothing.
“So I work this way, some year, then, what we call big brother in tong, make me dai ma, big horse, boss, yes? Of other gang people. I have territory, some streets, I make sure all money collected, other gang stay out.”
“Excuse me,” said Karp, “this is how you earn your livelihood, Mr. Lie? You have no other employment?”
“Yes, livelihood is all this what I am saying,” Lie said, and resumed. “So one my streets, Elizabeth Street, north of Canal Street, one end Chinese people, other end Italian people. So I meet Italian people, they say wise guys, Mafia guys. But we, they not do business, we stay separate all the time, separate, so I am surprised, one day, Italian man come to me, say, want to make some money? So I go have drink with him. So he say to me-”
“Just a second, Mr. Lie-this man, what was his name?”
“Ah, name Scarpi. Gino Scarpi. So he say, you want to work for us distribute product in Chinatown? This surprise me, because, ah, most times Chinese man is selling product to Italian. Bulk shipping.”
“This is drugs you’re referring to?”
“Yes, drugs. So I say to him, okay. I don’t tell big brother in tong, I figure, work for myself, you know? And we do business, Asian heroin, very pure. This is for year, year and a half, all going good, no problem. Then one month ago, something like that, Scarpi say to me, Willie, you know where I can get shooter, I have job for shooter. So, you know, I must laugh because, I say to him, why you need me, huh? You Mob! You don’t have shooters? He say, yeah, we got, but can’t use them, he don’t say why not. Hundred thousand dollar, he say, you pay shooter. So, I say know guys, I give them a call, but no more, I don’t set it up, he must set it up. Scarpi. He don’t like that. He say, I pay you money, you do job. I say no thanks, I say, what you think, this Chinese restaurant?”
To Karp’s surprise Lie giggled then. “You understand? I not crazy man, I gangster, but Chinese gangster, not want shoot some Italian, get killed that way. So I go away. Two day later, at night, car comes, two men tell me, get in. So I go. Take me to apartment house, go up back way. Fancy apartment. There is Scarpi, there is another man, they say, this Joe Pigetti, big boss, I never meet him before. Pigetti say, once we ask you nice, now we don’t ask, we tell you, you get shooter, you take out Eddie Catalano. So what could I do, I say, yes, boss. Then he say got to happen a special night, a special time, nine of June, around three in morning. This two days later now. So I say, yes, boss. So two days, I get boys for this, tell them it must be so, it must be this way. Don’t use my own boys, get Viet boy, I know this shooter, he kill like it nothing, crush of fly, also another boy to help him. So they do it. Scarpi give me envelope, I give to them, I don’t touch, don’t count. Don’t want it. They take it, I don’t get no complaint. That’s all.” He looked blankly out at them, as if he had just told a joke without a punch line.
“Mr. Lie,” said Karp, “how come you’re here? I mean, why did you call a lawyer and come in here with this story?”
“Is not story, is true!”
“Yes, of course, but what was the reason that made you want to tell this true story to me?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, I scared they try to kill me, you know shut me up. So I tell, ah, Mr. Fogel this story, maybe I get some, what you call, witness protection.” He looked over at Fogel, whose smooth face was professionally neutral, with perhaps a hint of discomfort around the eyes.