movements all the way. You understand?’
‘You got your job. I thank you kindly for the kids.’
Terrell stood up, and Gazzo instructed Sergeant Jonas to arrange for Terrell to go to his children. Gazzo nodded to me to follow him out. He didn’t say anything until we were both seated in his shade-drawn office, and he had a cigarette.
‘Well, Dan?’
‘What does Terrell gain by lying?’ I said. ‘Revenge?’ ‘He’s got stone in him, Dan,’ Gazzo said. ‘A man like that can do a lot if he thinks he has to. But just for revenge on one of her men? Anyway, all we have is his word for what she said. His word against Vega’s. We’ll need more.’
‘You’d think he could make a better lie if he was after Vega,’ I said.
‘Yeh, you would,’ Gazzo agreed. He stood up. ‘Let’s go and talk to Vega.’
Chapter Thirteen
Ricardo Vega didn’t like our reappearance. He met us at his door in a sweat suit under a cashmere topcoat. He wore Wellington boots, and looked ready to go out. The boots and slim sweat suit made him look like some dashing cavalier. An overaged cavalier, his face tired.
‘I’m due at rehearsal, Captain. I’ve got too many problems in my show to waste time.’
‘We won’t take long, Mr Vega,’ Gazzo said. He didn’t exactly push inside, or menace Vega, but we went in.
‘I’m sick of that one-armed pariah,’ Vega said, as much to assert himself against Gazzo as anything else. ‘Get him out.’
‘Mr Fortune is licensed to help us. He’s helping,’ Gazzo said. ‘We’ll wait if you want your lawyer.’
‘I want,’ Vega said, ‘and I have work to do.’
He vanished into an inner room. Gazzo sat in his coat. on an ornate Empire chair. Somewhere in the vast apartment Vega began to shout. He had been outfaced, he had to fight back against those he could dominate. George Lehman went away, and the distant shouting began again.
In the late sunlight the mammoth living room had a dusty look. With its fussy, overcrowded furniture, and walls of paintings, it was somehow closed in and untouched by open space. A room that lived only at night. A room for the people who moved through it. They are night people, those who live on the high echelons of the successful business of art. They exist indoors in rooms like this. A narrow life of written words, canvas colours, shaped stone, and the judgement of each other. Always indoors and the night, even when they were out in the daylight. They carry their world with them, hear the same analytical voices, in New York or Paris, Tokyo or Montego Bay.
Gazzo came alert an instant before Ricardo Vega returned to disturb my reverie. It was obvious that the apartment had a rear entrance—the lawyer was with Vega.
‘Okay, let’s get on with it,’ Vega said, impatient.
He still wore his sweat suit. Slim, but older in daylight. ‘Let me, Rey, will you?’ the lawyer said. ‘Is it the same matter, Captain?’
‘Same thing, ‘Gazzo said, and stood.
‘Is there a warrant involved now?’
‘Just some talk for now.’
‘I don’t like that, but what’s on your mind?’
Gazzo told them. What Boone Terrell had said, word for word, and nothing more. No judgements, no guesses. The lawyer bridled. Ricardo Vega shrugged.
‘I never heard of Boone Terrell,’ Vega said. ‘He’s lying.’
‘He didn’t say he knew you,’ Gazzo said. ‘Just told us what his wife told him. Her you did know.’
‘She never said that, how could she?’ Vega said. ‘If she did, she was raving or out to get me. Cause me trouble.’
‘She didn’t know she was going to die, Vega,’ Gazzo said.
I said, ‘Why would Terrell lie? Any ideas?’
‘No,’ Vega snapped, ‘and you keep out of it. You I don’t have to put up with. Captain, I don’t love authorities, but I want to co-operate. Only this is ridiculous. The man’s lying.’
The lawyer said, ‘Mr Vega doesn’t intend to be pushed around, Captain. We don’t threaten, but he has position, power, and
‘You got your job. I thank you kindly for the kids.’
Terrell stood up, and Gazzo instructed Sergeant Jonas to arrange for Terrell to go to his children. Gazzo nodded to me to follow him out. He didn’t say anything until we were both seated in his shade-drawn office, and he had a cigarette.
‘Well, Dan?’
‘What does Terrell gain by lying?’ I said. ‘Revenge?’ ‘He’s got stone in him, Dan,’ Gazzo said. ‘A man like that can do a lot if he thinks he has to. But just for revenge on one of her men? Anyway, all we have is his word for what she said. His word against Vega’s. We’ll need more.’
‘You’d think he could make a better lie if he was after Vega,’ I said.
‘Yeh, you would,’ Gazzo agreed. He stood up. ‘Let’s go and talk to Vega.’
Chapter Thirteen
Ricardo Vega didn’t like our reappearance. He met us at his door in a sweat suit under a cashmere topcoat. He wore Wellington boots, and looked ready to go out. The boots and slim sweat suit made him look like some dashing cavalier. An overaged cavalier, his face tired.
‘I’m due at rehearsal, Captain. I’ve got too many problems in my show to waste time.’
‘We won’t take long, Mr Vega,’ Gazzo said. He didn’t exactly push inside, or menace Vega, but we went in.
‘I’m sick of that one-armed pariah,’ Vega said, as much to assert himself against Gazzo as anything else. ‘Get him out.’
‘Mr Fortune is licensed to help us. He’s helping,’ Gazzo said. ‘We’ll wait if you want your lawyer.’
‘I want,’ Vega said, ‘and I have work to do.’
He vanished into an inner room. Gazzo sat in his coat. on an ornate Empire chair. Somewhere in the vast apartment Vega began to shout. He had been outfaced, he had to fight back against those he could dominate. George Lehman went away, and the distant shouting began again.
In the late sunlight the mammoth living room had a dusty look. With its fussy, overcrowded furniture, and walls of paintings, it was somehow closed in and untouched by open space. A room that lived only at night. A room for the people who moved through it. They are night people, those who live on the high echelons of the successful business of art. They exist indoors in rooms like this. A narrow life of written words, canvas colours, shaped stone, and the judgement of each other. Always indoors and the night, even when they were out in the daylight. They carry their world with them, hear the same analytical voices, in New York or Paris, Tokyo or Montego Bay.
Gazzo came alert an instant before Ricardo Vega returned to disturb my reverie. It was obvious that the apartment had a rear entrance—the lawyer was with Vega.
‘Okay, let’s get on with it,’ Vega said, impatient.
He still wore his sweat suit. Slim, but older in daylight. ‘Let me, Rey, will you?’ the lawyer said. ‘Is it the same matter, Captain?’
‘Same thing, ‘Gazzo said, and stood.
‘Is there a warrant involved now?’
‘Just some talk for now.’
‘I don’t like that, but what’s on your mind?’
Gazzo told them. What Boone Terrell had said, word for word, and nothing more. No judgements, no guesses. The lawyer bridled. Ricardo Vega shrugged.
‘I never heard of Boone Terrell,’ Vega said. ‘He’s lying.’
‘He didn’t say he knew you,’ Gazzo said. ‘Just told us what his wife told him. Her you did know.’
‘She never said that, how could she?’ Vega said. ‘If she did, she was raving or out to get me. Cause me trouble.’
‘She didn’t know she was going to die, Vega,’ Gazzo said.
I said, ‘Why would Terrell lie? Any ideas?’
‘No,’ Vega snapped, ‘and you keep out of it. You I don’t have to put up with. Captain, I don’t love authorities, but I want to co-operate. Only this is ridiculous. The man’s lying.’
The lawyer said, ‘Mr Vega doesn’t intend to be pushed around, Captain. We don’t threaten, but he has position, power, and
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