“They ran me through every conversation I had with her lately, wanted to know about the man she was with all week, wanted to know which of her lovers she’d fought with. I guess they’ll do the same with you,” I suggested to him.
“Well, they’ll get shit from me excuse my language, sweetheart. She and me didn’t see each other for weeks.
We talked on the phone, she was some kinda tease, but if these motherfuckers think they’re gonna dredge up my past and try to knock me outta the box, they got another thought coming.“
“You got a lawyer?”
“No way, man. I mean I got a lawyer back home, I got plenty of lawyers. But you walk into a police station with a lawyer, those cops know you did something wrong. I can go in by myself, tell ‘em what they wanna know, and take the Fifth when I feel like it. I’m not payin’ some sleazebag to tell me, ”You don’t have to answer that, Johnny.“ I been around the block a few times. No problem.”
Garelli was working the tortoni now, for dessert, and Rick had brought over a bottle of anisette to place on the table.
The espresso was thick as mud and delicious, but Johnny cut his with the syrupy liquor, as though he needed more fuel. He lit a cheap cigar, leaned forward and eyeballed me.
“They ask you anything about me and Iz?”
“Yeah. They asked me some things, and I know they’ve been talking to a lot of other people about you, too.”
“They tell you what they know about me, I mean, besides me being like in the movies?”
“They haven’t told me everything. I know they talked about your bad temper, your fights with Isabella-‘ ”Shit, that’s nothing to talk about. That is zero, nada. You know these cops. They any good? Or are they complete fuck-ups, like the ones in L.A.?“
“I don’t really know them. There’s some jerk from the FBI who thinks he’s running the show.”
“Yeah, Luther Waldo or something like that. Did they find out anything about you they didn’t already know?”
Boy, am I the wrong one to ask.
“Yeah, actually, they did.”
“Something bad?”
“Very bad.” Put Tina on again, Maureen. Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?
Now Johnny was puzzled. He had been convinced the meeting with the cops was going to be a complete cake-walk when he agreed to do it.
“D’you have something to hide?”
“I didn’t know it at the time, Johnny, but it turns out that I did. Why, is there something you don’t want them to know.”
I had started to confide in him, and he leaned further into my face to return the favor by trying to trust me with his secrets.
“I didn’t have anything to do with killing Isabella and, man, you know she coulda driven me to it but I;y got things I don’t want nobody to know about. We all do,, don’t we?” “You bet.”,s “They’re gonna wanna know where I was the day sheer got it, right?” He was well oiled now and getting sloppy.
“Well, I got nothing to tell them about that. I’m not gonna ruin somebody else’s life that’s got nothing to do with their; business, see?”
“Hey, Johnny, I’d be careful about lying to them. You know with credit cards and telephone bills and things that leave a trail of dates and records, it’s stup- It’s not too smart to lie about something they can check on as easily as that.”
He tried to absorb that for a minute.
“Well, I don’t have to lie to them, I could just take the Fifth, right?”
“Well, not exactly.” I tried to explain the difference between being questioned by the police and being on the witness stand in a court of law. Forget about it.
I decided to try the direct approach.
“Maybe it’s not all that tough, Johnny. Where were you last Wednesday? I mean, as long as you weren’t on Martha’s Vineyard I think you’re absolutely right it’s nobody’s business. Try your story on me see how it flies. Isabella always trusted me.”
That was a one-way street.
I smiled sweetly at him, and hoped it looked warm and fuzzy as he stared back at me through his alcohol filled haze.
He propped one elbow on the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand.
“You know The Tempest?”
“Shakespeare?” The Gorilla and I are gonna talk Shakespeare tonight? The lieutenant won’t believe it.
“No, not the movie. The boat, the yacht.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sir Robert Ardmore’s yacht. That one?”
What unlikely shipmates: Johnny Garelli and British department store mogul, recently knighted, Sir Robert Ardmore.
“Yeah, Alice, that one. It’s like an ocean liner. I don’t know Ardmore, but you could say I’m a good friend of his wife.”
Garelli smiled.
“When Iz dumped me, I thought I’d drown my sorrows in the ocean.”
Ardmore ’s fifth wife, a twenty-six-year-old stripper whose instep was reputed to be higher than her I.Q., had met the elderly billionaire when he was in Vegas, doing a site inspection for a series of shopping malls. He was still married at the time, and his fierce batt leto retain the remarkable yacht which had originally been named for his fourth wife in the divorce proceedings led to its lavish rechristening as The Tempest.
“So you and Tiki Ardmore were together last week?”
“Obviously, that goes no further than this table, right?
Her husband’s got a lousy sense of humor, if you know what I mean. Really straight guy. Jeez, I’ve know Tiki since she was working the door at Motion’s.”
I think Lord Ardmore and I could do very well together, sailing off into the sunset, faithful and loyal like a pair of cocker spaniels.
“Where was the boat?”
“I flew on board by helicopter when Ardmore went back to London last Monday. I was in Easthampton, and the boat was cruising off Montauk, at the end of Long Island.”
Fifty-five miles from the Vineyard, as the crow flies.
“Well, at least you’ve got witnesses, Johnny. Crew, pilots, deckhands-‘ ”I got ’em all right, but one thing Tiki don’t want is witnesses. Everybody who works for Ardmore is deaf, dumb, and blind, if you follow me. This marriage may pn be hard work, but it beats the shit out of the last two jobs she had. I can’t burn her on this.“ ps ”Did you put into port anywhere?“
“Are you kidding? Those dinky little islands can hold stinkpots and Sunfishes, but not a yacht the size of this one. The Tempest needs its own dock. Nah, last thing we wanted to see was other people.”
I guess Tiki Ardmore was a snake-charmer, too.
Johnny gave me a few more details about his shipboard adventure, and I was confident that there were enough people who could confirm or contradict his story, were his involvement really to become a major factor in the investigation. I don’t know that I was any help to Lieutenant Peterson, but I would not have to eat again for at least a week.
The rain had started to come down heavily while we were eating dinner, and I was glad to see that there was a stretch limo waiting for Garelli at the curb. He left generous tips for Vie and the waiter, exchanged kisses on both cheeks with Joey, and asked me if I wanted to be dropped at my apartment on his way back to the hotel. Maureen and Mike had slipped out while Johnny was settling up his bill, and I saw their car parked just beyond the streetlight, as they watched me get into the rear seat before starting up their engine.
It was only a ten-minute ride down the drive to my place.
Garelli leaned his head back against the seat cushion and let the alcohol do its work, while I played out the visions of a helicopter or a speeding launch whisking him from The Tempest to the Vineyard, to kill Isabella, while Tiki Ardmore soaked in a bubble bath. The logistics of it were certainly possible, as any navigator could tell you. I had gotten the basics for Chapman and his team they would have to go the distance.
I thanked Johnny for the meal and wished him good luck with Luther tomorrow, then I got out of the limo and waited in the lobby for Mike and Maureen to park and join me.