Windshield Man is a low-level member of the Dominic Petrone organization. Petrone is a charming, intelligent man who just happens to control the most powerful crime family in New Jersey. I have had dealings with Petrone in the past; we have even helped each other on a number of occasions. It is not something I’ve been comfortable with, mainly because there’s always a chance that he will get annoyed and have me killed.
Windshield Man has been assigned to keep an eye on me and report back on my actions. Marcus is positive that he was not sent to do me harm, and Marcus’s instincts in the area of doing harm are usually quite accurate.
This conversation is conducted within earshot of Windshield Man, who seems to show no interest in it at all. He perks up a bit when Marcus inquires what I would like to do with him. The way he asks the question, I assume my options range from letting him go to dumping his dismembered body in the river.
I opt for letting him go, after Marcus and Laurie assure me that he will not go back and accurately report what has happened to his mob bosses. To do so would not be good for his job security, or his life expectancy.
We send Windshield Man walking off into the darkness. “I’m gonna miss his wit,” I say. Laurie and I get into the car to leave, and Marcus declines a ride. I have no idea how he got here, but he’s clearly going back the same way.
It’s only a five-minute ride home, and Laurie and I talk about the situation while taking Tara and Reggie for their nightly walk.
“The list of things I don’t understand keeps getting longer,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for instance, let’s assume Petrone sent someone to kill me on the highway. Why would he then have Windshield Man just watching me? What have I done in the last two weeks that could have changed Petrone’s mind about killing me?”
“I don’t think you can make that assumption. Maybe it wasn’t Petrone who sent the shooter on the highway,” she says.
“You think there are other crime bosses out there sending hoods out after me? Maybe there’s a competition to see who can kill me first.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. But while it’s obvious that Petrone has an interest in this, he clearly isn’t the only one.”
“Keep going…,” I prompt.
“Well, there’s whoever planted the tap on your phone. Whether it’s some secret government agency or just someone with access to their equipment, it wasn’t Petrone. And don’t forget, there is also the person who murdered Stacy Harriman.”
“That could be Petrone,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so-it’s not his style.”
“To set it up to look like a murder-suicide? If he was doing it so that he could get Richard out of the way, so he could smuggle something into the country, that was the best way for him. He left no reason for anyone to suspect it had to do with Richard’s job.”
“I understand that,” she says. “But it falls apart with the pills-or the injection. Doing it that way was leaving it to chance. Petrone would have set it up to look like Richard put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It removes the chance of survival.”
It’s a good point, and one I hadn’t thought of. “So how do I find out what interest Petrone has in this?”
“You could ask him,” she says.
Yes, I could.
* * * * *
VINCE SANDERS KNOWS pretty much every person in America.
And those he doesn’t know, he can get to. He has a Rolodex slightly larger than Poland. It has always struck me as an incongruity that a person as disagreeable as Vince would connect himself to humanity in this fashion, but I’ve come to believe he wants to be able to genuinely dislike as many people as possible.
Vince has always had a relationship with Petrone, and he has occasionally served as a conduit between me and the crime boss. Now that I have decided to confront Petrone and question him about his connection to the Evans case, my logical move is to contact Vince and ask him to set it up.
“Why should I?” he asks.
“What do you mean, why should you?”
“Which part of the question didn’t you understand? Why should I get you in to see Petrone?”
“Because we’re friends and because it’s important to me.”
“You want to try again?” he asks.
“Because it’s in connection with the Evans case, and if a big story comes out of it, you’ll be the first to get it.”
“Always happy to help a friend,” he says. “You got a tuxedo?”
“I do.”
“Then put it on; I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock tonight.”
I’m not understanding this. “I need to wear a tuxedo to meet with Dominic Petrone?”
“Tonight you do. Read my newspaper.”
Click.
A quick check of Vince’s paper reveals that there is a charity function tonight. The publisher of Vince’s paper is on the board of directors of the charity, as is Dominic Petrone. It is characteristic of Petrone; when he is not peddling drugs, employing hookers, laundering money, and killing his enemies, he is one heck of a public-spirited guy.
To pass the time, I join Kevin as he leaves to interview Gale Chaplin, a former neighbor of Richard and Stacy’s in Hawthorne. During the trial she proved to be a damaging witness, describing how Stacy had told her of difficulties she and Richard had been having in their relationship. She had also, according to Gale, expressed worry about Richard’s “temper.” She was the only witness to say anything like this, and it proved harmful to Richard’s case.
Chaplin and her family moved a couple of months ago to a town house complex just off Route 4 in Englewood. It’s a very desirable location because of its proximity to the George Washington Bridge and, therefore, to New York City.
She seems quite proud of the place, and when Kevin makes the mistake of admiring it, she takes that as an invitation to give us what she calls the “grand tour.” It is three stories high, and by the time we get to the top floor, I am too out of breath to give much more than admiring grunts. If I ever moved in here, the first thing I would do is interview elevator salesmen.
We finally settle in the kitchen, and Chaplin offers us coffee and cheesecake. Cheesecake is not something I understand. I consider the place for cheese to be on top of a pizza, and I reject any notion that a pizza topping can also be a cake. For instance, I would be similarly opposed to pepperoni cake.
I’ve planned to let Kevin take the lead in the questioning, but when she starts telling us in excruciating detail how much the value of the house has gone up in just the two months they’ve lived here, I feel compelled to intervene. “As I’m sure Kevin told you, we’d like to talk to you about your testimony at the Richard Evans trial.”
She nods. “I read about what’s happening; is it really Reggie? He was such a sweet dog.”
“Yes, it’s definitely him. That has been established.”
“So there may be a new trial?”
“We certainly hope so,” I say. “You spoke about Ms. Harriman confiding in you that she and Richard were having problems…”
“Yes.”
“And that she was fearful of him, of his temper.”
“Yes.”
“Were you and she close?” Kevin asks.
“No, not at all. But she came over for coffee one day, and it just started pouring out. Like she had been holding it in and had to finally tell someone.”
“Did it surprise you?”
She nods vigorously. “Very much; my husband, Frank, and I had liked Richard. He was always such a nice neighbor. But when the murder happened, I felt like I had to tell what I knew.”