Compelling Evidence by Steve Martini Page B

blac and gold filigree with a twenty‐four‐carat writing nib a spear. He sits poised with this baton on his fingers, about to sign a treaty ending world poverty. WWHEN first started appearing in the hands of young law‐yers year ago, Harry dubbed them "spear‐chuckers."

    Skarpellos opens a gold cigar box on the desk aand direction. I shake my head. "You don't mind if I do?"

    "It's your office." He offers one to Brown, who declines. These are not big stogies, but smaller and black, twisted and shapeless corkscrews, things that Skarpellos discovered on a trip through Italy two years earlier. By the old Italians who smoke them, men whose few remaining teeth are brown as the snow Oled along the edge of highways, I am told, there cigars are known simply as toscanelli. Ben swore they were pieces of dog shit. Several seconds in, with thick clouds of dark smoke wafting about Tony's head, I wonder whether Potter's euphemism was grounded so much on their appearance as the odor they emit. It's the latest affectation, like the ginseng tea following his whirlwind tour of China, and the array of bottled mineral waters on his return frorn Eastern European spas. As with the frog in The Wind in The Willows, in time each went the way of the Greek's last fad. One co only hope that his fling with toscanelli will soon follow the same course. The accoutrements of wealth and tastelessness now in place, Skarpellos and Brown are ready to begin business. "We all appreciate your coming by today." He turns his head to the side and spits out little bits of tobacco, stripping the end of his tongue with his teeth and lips to comb off the last few Oeces.
    "The partners, that is. I know that Ben's death affected you deeply, as it did all of us." He's still spitting in between ,syllables. "Whatever caused you to leave the fun well, that's aft water under the bridge‐as far as I'm concerned. I want you to know that."

    Tony pauses. Like the village pastor, he's giving me an opporowty to make a confession. "I appreciate that, Tony."

    "Yeah, well."

    He's fingering a single piece of paper centered On the desk in front of him, lines printed in large type so Tony read them without his glasses.
    He's searching for his place on script. In all of this smoke, his eyes are beginning to water. There's been a lot of confusion around here. I guess you can .the.11 .1 nod, He leans back, having mastered the subject once more. "Me have really been working the place over. We hear rumors, es, nothing specific." He looks at me for signs of interest. And then with typical finesse: "Have you heard anythin Skarpellos is not a man of small talk‐‐or for that ma thoughts‐but for those in a hurry he possesses the directness. "About what?"

    "Ben's death?"

    "Just what I've read."

    "Thought you might have heard something from your in the DA's office.
    Your pipeline is probably better th& something like this."

    "What are you hearing?" I ask. It's clear ‐that Tony's not been left standing at the suffers under no illusion that his partner took his own a moment I think that Skarpellos has called me here to for information on Ben's death. He swallows a little saliva, considering his response.
    "Things," he says. "Yes?"

    "Just rumors. You know, the kind of stuff you probab hear when somebody prominent takes his own life. about foul play. Lotta, speculation."

    "I suppose. I hadn't heard."

    "Sure," he says. "Well, down to business." Digging Ben's death has been only Tony's hors d'oeuvre. "I guess we should get right to it. I'm sure there's n say this, but so there's no misunderstanding later what O.fi to tell you must be treated in the strictest c 4en e. I have your assurance on that?" Skarpellos looks dir Brown knows his job serves as collateral for his d@fiiscr I nod my assent. "There is a client who, for the moment, sball remain Suffice it to say this is a man of some prominence " of posturing here. Skarpellos weighs what he's a @out a brief instant. The judicious