“You’re here now. Ask Charlie anything you want. Whatever you learn, feel free to take to Alejandro.”
Surprising me. “Sure, why not?” I said.
With a hostile witness, many lawyers begin with soft violins before they start pounding the kettle drums. They try to lull the witness into a false sense of security. I think subtlety is overrated.
“Were you fucking Krista Larkin when she was seventeen?” I began.
Ziegler blinked and shot a look at Perlow, who said, “Tell him the truth, Charlie.”
“Yeah, I was fucking her. So what? I wasn’t the only one.”
“Did she come to parties at your house?”
“Yeah, lots of them.”
“What about the night she disappeared?”
“Never showed up.”
“You invited her?”
“On the set that day. She said she’d come by, but she didn’t.”
“Any idea why?”
“Maybe she was worn out from sucking cock all day.”
“Am I mistaken, or did you just get the Humanitarian of the Year award?”
“Cor-fucking-rect, and I’m a Grand Claw, too. You know how much you gotta give to charity to get a golden bib?”
“Who cares? Underneath your bib, you’re still a sleazebag.”
He turned to Perlow. “A fucking criminal defense lawyer lecturing me.”
“One difference,” I said, “I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not.”
“You hypocrite! Max, did you hear him?”
“Not now, Charlie.”
But Ziegler barreled on. “Hey, Lassiter, you think I don’t remember you? You think Krista didn’t tell me about you? I know what happened that night, you two-faced fuck!” He smirked at me. “Did you tell your client you fucked her sister? Or do you want me to?”
I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if someone had cinched leather straps around my chest and pulled tight.
“Charlie, that’s not the way to resolve this,” Perlow said. “Mr. Lassiter, do you have anything else?”
I was reeling from Ziegler’s accusations. I’d tumbled from the moral high ground to the gutter.
Ziegler knew
.
He even guessed that I hadn’t been honest with Amy Larkin. I had to fix that and fast.
I had blundered coming here. I could see it in his triumphant grin. If a snake could smile, that would be its look.
Perlow stirred, bracing his cane to get to his feet. “If that’s it, Mr. Lassiter, it would appear you have nothing placing the girl in Charlie’s company the night she disappeared.”
“Maybe today I don’t. But this isn’t over. Hell, it hasn’t even started.” Trying to salvage the moment by sounding tough, but really just spraying a garden hose on the
Hindenburg
.
I turned to leave, listening to Ziegler snicker like a horse. Just as I reached the door he said, “Hey, Lassiter, why do you think I sent Angel your way?”
I didn’t answer, and he said, “Because I
know
you. You’re just like me.”
“Bullshit. I sent her home.”
“My mistake. Next time, I’ll send jail bait.”
He was still cackling when the door closed behind me.
19 The Marvelous Jew
“Nestor, what’s the problem?” Perlow asked his driver and bodyguard. The creamy white Bentley was stuck in the exit lane of the Ziegler Enterprises building.
“Car being towed.”
Perlow saw it then. Ziegler’s black Lincoln. The car Ray Decker used. Four flat tires.
Lassiter, he thought.
What the hell to do about him?
Ziegler had gloated after Lassiter left. Thought he’d won the round. But all he’d done was bloody the nose of a street fighter. Lassiter wasn’t a weaker foe because Charlie shamed him, but a more determined one. The lawyer didn’t have a booming practice or a 24-karat reputation. But again, that only made him more dangerous.
“A man who has nothing in his pockets has nothing to lose.”
Meyer Lansky himself said that more than half a century ago. The man President Batista of Cuba called
“El Judio Maravilloso,”
the marvelous Jew. The man with nothing in his pockets turned out to be a bearded guerrilla fighting in the mountains of Cuba. His name
Surprising me. “Sure, why not?” I said.
With a hostile witness, many lawyers begin with soft violins before they start pounding the kettle drums. They try to lull the witness into a false sense of security. I think subtlety is overrated.
“Were you fucking Krista Larkin when she was seventeen?” I began.
Ziegler blinked and shot a look at Perlow, who said, “Tell him the truth, Charlie.”
“Yeah, I was fucking her. So what? I wasn’t the only one.”
“Did she come to parties at your house?”
“Yeah, lots of them.”
“What about the night she disappeared?”
“Never showed up.”
“You invited her?”
“On the set that day. She said she’d come by, but she didn’t.”
“Any idea why?”
“Maybe she was worn out from sucking cock all day.”
“Am I mistaken, or did you just get the Humanitarian of the Year award?”
“Cor-fucking-rect, and I’m a Grand Claw, too. You know how much you gotta give to charity to get a golden bib?”
“Who cares? Underneath your bib, you’re still a sleazebag.”
He turned to Perlow. “A fucking criminal defense lawyer lecturing me.”
“One difference,” I said, “I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not.”
“You hypocrite! Max, did you hear him?”
“Not now, Charlie.”
But Ziegler barreled on. “Hey, Lassiter, you think I don’t remember you? You think Krista didn’t tell me about you? I know what happened that night, you two-faced fuck!” He smirked at me. “Did you tell your client you fucked her sister? Or do you want me to?”
I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if someone had cinched leather straps around my chest and pulled tight.
“Charlie, that’s not the way to resolve this,” Perlow said. “Mr. Lassiter, do you have anything else?”
I was reeling from Ziegler’s accusations. I’d tumbled from the moral high ground to the gutter.
Ziegler knew
.
He even guessed that I hadn’t been honest with Amy Larkin. I had to fix that and fast.
I had blundered coming here. I could see it in his triumphant grin. If a snake could smile, that would be its look.
Perlow stirred, bracing his cane to get to his feet. “If that’s it, Mr. Lassiter, it would appear you have nothing placing the girl in Charlie’s company the night she disappeared.”
“Maybe today I don’t. But this isn’t over. Hell, it hasn’t even started.” Trying to salvage the moment by sounding tough, but really just spraying a garden hose on the
Hindenburg
.
I turned to leave, listening to Ziegler snicker like a horse. Just as I reached the door he said, “Hey, Lassiter, why do you think I sent Angel your way?”
I didn’t answer, and he said, “Because I
know
you. You’re just like me.”
“Bullshit. I sent her home.”
“My mistake. Next time, I’ll send jail bait.”
He was still cackling when the door closed behind me.
19 The Marvelous Jew
“Nestor, what’s the problem?” Perlow asked his driver and bodyguard. The creamy white Bentley was stuck in the exit lane of the Ziegler Enterprises building.
“Car being towed.”
Perlow saw it then. Ziegler’s black Lincoln. The car Ray Decker used. Four flat tires.
Lassiter, he thought.
What the hell to do about him?
Ziegler had gloated after Lassiter left. Thought he’d won the round. But all he’d done was bloody the nose of a street fighter. Lassiter wasn’t a weaker foe because Charlie shamed him, but a more determined one. The lawyer didn’t have a booming practice or a 24-karat reputation. But again, that only made him more dangerous.
“A man who has nothing in his pockets has nothing to lose.”
Meyer Lansky himself said that more than half a century ago. The man President Batista of Cuba called
“El Judio Maravilloso,”
the marvelous Jew. The man with nothing in his pockets turned out to be a bearded guerrilla fighting in the mountains of Cuba. His name
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