"Thank you."
"Yeah. You think I'm some kind of dumb greaseball. Wrong again." I was getting a little annoyed with this guy now. I said, "Stupid people think you're stupid. I know better."
He smiled. "Yeah. It's an old Italian trick. Claudius did it to save his life before he became emperor. There's a guy in my business up in the Bronx – you know the guy – he's been acting simple-minded for ten years because the feds are on his case. You know? But Ferragamo is stupid and he thinks I'm stupid, so I surprise him every time, but he's too stupid to get it." He laughed. We went back to our steaks and didn't speak until coffee, then he asked me, "You ever play dumb?"
"Sometimes."
"Like, I mean, you know something, but you don't let on you know. You hold on to it until the right time. You don't go off hot and get yourself hurt. You wait." I replied, "Sometimes I never let on. Sometimes I just let the other guy go crazy wondering if I know."
He nodded appreciatively. "Yeah. Like what, for instance? Give me a for instance."
We looked at each other across the table, and I replied, "Like the bullshit with the IRS, Frank. You told Melzer to go to his friends in the IRS and see if they could find something on me, and they did. Then you turn me on to Melzer, who fixes things for me, and I owe you a favour. You're a real pal." He played around with his dessert and didn't reply.
I asked, "But what if I hadn't come to you with the problem?"
He shrugged.
"Then," I said, "you'd find another problem for me. Or maybe I'd need another kind of favour from you, like the variance for the stables. I'm not sure that was a coincidence or a set-up, but apparently you have my wife's ear, so you can get to me through her."
The man obviously knew there was trouble between Susan and me, and if he had a conscience at all, it was a guilty one. In fact, he actually looked uncomfortable. I mean, beyond class differences and political differences, and ethnic and racial tensions, and all the other problems that people have with one another in society, the most primitive and elemental cause of violence, murder, and mayhem is sexual possessiveness. To put it more simply, people get angry when other people are fucking or trying to fuck their mate. Anyway, Bellarosa must have been feeling a little uneasy or he wouldn't have prodded me into the subject to see my reaction. He looked at me, waiting to see, I think, if I was actually going to broach the subject of him and Susan. But since it was he who was feeling a little uneasy, not me, I decided to leave him hanging awhile longer.
Without a word, I stood and went to the sideboard on which were a few dozen telephone messages, one of which was from Susan advising me that she'd changed her telephone number. I suppose the media were getting to her, not to mention our friends and relatives. I threw the message with the new phone number in the wastebasket and left the suite.
Down in the lobby, I was accosted by none other than Jenny Alvarez, the lady in red, except that she was not wearing red that evening. "Hello, Mr Sutter," she said.
She was, in fact, wearing a black silk dress, sort of an evening dress, I guess, as if she'd just come from dinner. She really looked good, and I wanted to ask her if we'd spent the night together, but it seemed like a silly question, so I just replied, "Hello."
"Can I buy you a drink?" she asked.
"I don't drink."
"Coffee?"
"I'm in a bit of a hurry."
She seemed hurt, and I began to believe we really had spent the night together. I'm a lot of things, but a cad isn't one of them, so I accepted the offer of a drink, and we went into the Oak Bar and got a table. She ordered a scotch and soda, and I made it two. She said, "I saw the statements you made to the newspapers this morning."
"I didn't know TV journalists read the papers. Or read at all."
"Don't be a snot."
"Okay."
"Anyway, I'd like to do an interview with you."
"I don't think so."
"It won't take long. We can do it right here in the Plaza, live for the eleven-o'clock news."
"I'd be dead for the morning news."
She laughed as though this were a joke. This was not a joke. She said, "Could you get Mr Bellarosa to join you?"
"I think not."
"Maybe we could tape an in-depth interview and run it on our nightly news show at eleven-thirty. That's a national show. That would give you both an opportunity to present your side of the case."
"We're actually going to present our side in court."
So we went on in this vein for a while, Ms Alvarez thinking I was playing hard to get, and I, to be honest, not blowing her off because I was enjoying the company. She had nice full lips.
We ordered a second round. She could not comprehend, of course, that not everyone in America wanted to be on television. Finally, growing a little weary with her obsessive badgering, I said, "I had a dream last night that I slept with you."
She seemed like a tough sort of lady who'd heard it all before, but this took her by surprise, and she actually got flustered. I was smitten. I said, "Look, Ms Alvarez – can I call you Jenny?"
"Yes."
"Look, Jenny, you must know that these people don't appear on TV shows. You have a better chance of getting the Premier of the Soviet Union on your show than getting Frank Bellarosa."
She nodded, but only, I think, to get her brain working better. She said, "But you are not in the Mafia -" "There is no Mafia."
"You can talk to us. Mr Ferragamo has agreed to come on the show-" "He'd do a sitcom if the ratings were high enough."
She giggled. "Come on, Mr Sutter… John. Don't you see how this can help your client?"
So we began round three with another round of drinks. She went on for a while, making a good case for television exposure, but I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention. I said, "It was a very realistic dream."
She replied, "Look, if it means getting you on the air…" I paid more attention. "Yes?"
"Well… we can scramble you."
"Excuse me?"
"You know. Scramble your face and voice. No one will know it's you."
"Unless you introduce me by name."
"Don't be silly. What would be the point of -?"
"You had on that red dress."
"The scrambled interview would have a different slant, of course. Not John Sutter as attorney, but as an unidentified source. We've done that before with organized crime reports. You'd talk about -" "'Do you have an apartment in town?"
Round three ended in a draw, and we went to round four, both optimistic. At seven bucks a pop in the Oak Bar, one of us was down fifty-six dollars already, plus tax and tip. There was a bowl of really good smoked almonds on the next table, but our table had a bowl of those disgusting goldfish pretzels. They're all over the place.
She went on again, glancing at her watch a few times. I asked, "Are you doing the news tonight?"
"I don't think I have a story tonight since you're not cooperating."
"Do you get paid anyway?"
"Maybe. Look, at least consider the news show at eleven-thirty. We have a show put together, but we need a focus."
"Does that mean you won't scramble my face?"
"I mean an angle. I want someone to speak intelligently about different aspects of this case. I don't want any more so-called experts. I want someone who can give the American public the other side of this issue." "What other side?"
"The constitutionality of RICO, the government's harassment of certain ethnic groups under the guise of justice, Ferragamo's statements about a possible gang war between Hispanics and Italians. That sort of thing. I really want to get a different view on this thing."
"Sounds like a good show. I'll watch it."
"Let's go talk to Mr Bellarosa. See if he wants to be interviewed. See if he wants his attorney to go on."
"Stay here." I stood. "See if you can get a bowl of smoked almonds." I went out to a house phone and called the suite, but Bellarosa's line was busy. I had no intention of presenting Ms Alvarez's offer to him, but I wanted to see if he was still in. I went back to the Oak Bar, sat, and informed Ms Alvarez, "He says no. And no means no." She had gotten the smoked almonds and I took a handful.