Marlene said, “Yes, it’s perfectly clear.” Wharton gave her a final dirty look and turned to pick up his phone. Marlene rose and walked out, much relieved. She had thought that she was going to be warned off Sarkis Kerbussyan too.
13
So I think we should go see Kerbussyan again,” Marlene said. “As soon as possible. Now, maybe.”
Karp considered this. His wife had burst into his office and spilled out the whole exotic and confusing tale of her interview with Sokoloff.
“You like him for Ersoy, right?” Karp asked. “Kerbussyan.”
“I think he’s connected, sure. Whether I like him? I don’t know.”
“Umm …” Karp rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, I thought of that too, God forbid,” she said quickly. “But Sokoloff said Tomasian was the last person Sarkis would’ve used, and that’s supported by what Mr. K told you when you went to see him. Tomasian’s a courier, not a shooter.”
“So he must’ve used somebody else. What makes you think he’ll be more forthcoming now than he was with me?”
“We know he lied. He said he didn’t know anything about Ersoy’s money, and I guarantee you it came right out of his own bank account. He dealt with the vic, for chrissake! So we got him anyway for obstructing. It’s a lever.”
Karp nodded. “Okay, I’ll call.” He called. And it turned out Mr. Kerbussyan would find some time around five.
Marlene went back to her office. Harry had left no messages, which worried her. She had sent him out again after Djelal, before she had been warned off the U.N., but she didn’t think that detail would matter to Wharton if Djelal or the ambassador made a stink. It could be very bad indeed. She could lose the bureau.
In this mood she scrambled through paperwork and made herself generally unpleasant to her minions. Being the kind of minions they were, they were unpleasant back. Thus, she was in no mood for playtime when Jim Raney stuck his head in her door and flashed his patented charming Irish grin.
“Go away, Raney, I’m busy.”
He slipped past the door and closed it behind him. “Go ahead, I’ll just watch.” He pulled a visitors’ chair around so that it was touching Marlene’s chair, and sat down in it, still grinning.
“Raney! Go away!”
He placed an arm across the back of her chair. “You seem tense,” he said. “I hear the marriage is breaking up. You’re probably not getting much lately. You ready for an indecent proposal from a deserving Irish lad?”
“The marriage is not breaking up,” she said snippily, suppressing a giggle. Raney had that effect on her, the same effect as the strutting neighborhood swains of her teen years-infuriating but crudely seductive at the same time.
“Oh, yeah? How come I hear he moved out?”
“He had an operation on his knee; he can’t climb our stairs.”
“A good story. Stick to it. On the other hand, I’d figure out how to climb those stairs with two busted legs, if you were at the top of them.” This last was whispered a half inch from her ear. His hand slipped down off the back of the chair to her neck.
Harry Bello walked in the door without knocking, as was his habit. There was a moment of frozen embarrassment. Marlene shot to her feet, knocking back her chair with a clatter.
Bello said, “You’re busy.”
“No, Harry, come in,” she answered in a voice that cracked. “Um, Harry, you know Jim Raney. Raney, Harry Bello.”
Raney stood up too. He seemed amused. “Yeah, Harry Bello. I heard you brought in Vinnie the Guinea by yourself. Very impressive.”
Harry said in a flat voice, “Jim Raney. I hear you shot four guys in the head in four seconds. Very impressive.”
Raney flushed, and his jaws stiffened. Another moment of strained silence, which Marlene broke by saying breezily, “Jim was just leaving.”
“Yeah,” said Raney, his grin returning. “I just came by to invite you to the big touch football game this weekend. Bring the family. Two at the Sheep Meadow, rain or shine. Be there or be square. I could pick you up.”
“Do that. I wouldn’t miss it,” said Marlene. Raney left.
“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” said Marlene. “It’s just the way he is. He saved my life once.”
Harry shrugged and sat down like a cat. He said, “He’s got a Mercedes 300SL.”
“Who, Raney? No, he doesn’t … oh, you mean Djelal. Did you talk to him?”
“No, just checked him out. Nice condo in the fifties too. They must pay pretty good, the U.N.”
“I love it! This is looking a lot better. I also love it you didn’t roust him.” She explained Wharton’s orders about bothering the U.N., and told him what she had learned at Sokoloff’s.
“Butch and I are going to see Kerbussyan this afternoon-oh, crap! Look, Harry, could you do me a terrific favor and pick up Lucy at day-care and take her home? I’ll give you my key.”
“No problem,” said Harry, a little pale light starting up in the dead of his eyes.
After Harry left, Marlene called Ray Guma, who, as it turned out, had caught the homicide prosecution of Vinnie Boguluso.
“What do you think, Goom? Of the case, I mean.”
“Hey, it’s locked. Any time you want to do all the work up front, let me know. I could use a break.”
“He’ll go for the top count?”
“Rest assured. The little scumbag’s testimony and the toothmarks, and the Perez woman-it’s a lock. Grand jury this week, no problems. We go to pretrial probably the week after, but I can’t see the defense coming up with anything. The warrants’re good. So’s the evidence.”
“Have you talked to him?”
Guma chuckled. “Yeah. He’s a fuckin’ piece of work, Vinnie. You know, he’s really got a thing for you, Champ. I think you pissed him off. I think you insulted his manhood.”
“I’ll try to live with it. Any word on the third guy, Duane?”
“No, we got the usual APB out on him, but I’m not holding my breath. He got any sense, he’s in fuckin’ Texas, or someplace where there’s more Duanes to blend in with.”
“Yeah, really. Okay, let me know how it goes …”
“Hey, one other thing, you gonna see Butch the next coupla hours?”
“Yeah, I’m going out with him right now on something. Why?”
“Just tell him to get with me. I got some more stuff about Turks on my wire into Joey Castles. He was interested the other day.”
“Turks?” she asked. “What’s a mob guy doing with Turks?”
“Hey, the fuck I know. Joey called Ready Eddie Scoli, you know, the fence? Handles heavy theft? He says the Turk got the product and they’re getting ready to process it. I thought, fuck, it sounds like scag-you know? Process? But Eddie doesn’t do scag-he’s into gems, metals, furs. So tell Butch it looks more like my theory that the Turk is this Brooklyn guy, Minzone. Minzone I could see getting hold of a shipment of dope. Maybe he’s cutting it or something and Eddie’s supposed to cover the financing, or maybe-”
“Hold it, Goom,” she interrupted. “This is getting too complicated, and I got to meet a car like five minutes ago. I’ll tell him to call you.”
One of the D.A. squad cops drove Karp and Marlene up to the house in Riverdale, and they told him to wait. The door was opened not by the housemaid but by a burly, bushy-mustached man in an olive drab T-shirt and chinos who looked as if he had just put down his assault rifle. He gave them a severe look and led them through the paneled and carpeted hallways, stopping impatiently from time to time to let Karp, clumping along on his crutches, catch up.
He took them not to the study where Karp had originally interviewed Kerbussyan, but through a solarium full of huge houseplants and then through French doors to a small brick terrace overlooking the garden. There he left them. Karp collapsed gratefully into a white wicker armchair. Marlene walked out into the garden.
It was a lovely place, smelling of wet earth, crushed foliage, roses, and lavender. It sloped to the west, and from the terrace end one could see the river and the cliffs of the Palisades. She strolled down an aisle of roses, turned around the heavy green arch of a grape arbor, and came upon Sarkis Kerbussyan clipping grapes.