I said. "Broz gave them to me."
"Broz?"
"Yes, Vinnie Morris actually, but you know when Vinnie talks, it's Joe's voice."
Devane nodded again.
"Can we trust them?" Fiori said.
"We can trust them to say what Vinnie told me they'd say."
"Are we suborning perjury here?" Fiori said.
"Probably," I said.
Fiori smiled at me. Her teeth were even and white, her hair was reddish-brown and fell thickly to her shoulders. Her eyes were enormous and blue and innocent. "But in a good cause," she said.
"Yes, ma'am."
"What's Broz get out of this?" Devane said. I shook my head.
Quirk said, "He eliminates a competitor."
Devane said, "And maybe replaces him."
Quirk shrugged. "One creep at a time," he said.
They were quiet then, Riordan sprawled in his chair, his frame too big for it, his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms folded over his chest. Rita Fiori bit her lower lip, and looked at Devane. He looked at Riordan, Riordan nodded. Fiori nodded.
Devane said, "Okay, immunity."
I took an envelope out of my coat pocket and handed it to Devane.
"Names," I said. "They'll come in with their attorney whenever you want. His name's there too."
Devane opened the envelope, looked at the names. Passed the envelope around. "Anybody know them?" he said.
McMahon said, "I do. Both of them."
Fiori looked at Winston. "Hadn't we ought to get a statement from the Reverend Winston?" she said.
Devane pushed a tape recorder across the conference table closer to Winston. "We'll tape what you say," he said. "And transcribe it and give you a copy of the typescript. Do you wish an attorney present? You have that right."
Winston looked at me. I shook my head. Winston said, "No." His voice sounded dry and out of use. He cleared his throat.
"You understand," Devane said, "that you are not receiving immunity."
"Yes."
"Although the judge will know of your help here."
I handed Winston a Xerox copy of his earlier statement. Devane pushed the button on the tape recorder. Winston began to talk, referring to the earlier statement, but supplementing and enlarging, his voice growing stronger as he talked, as if the catharsis of confession had begun to quicken his spirit.
CHAPTER 30
It was Saturday afternoon, and an early August monsoon was upon us. A cool hard rain slanted by a strong summer wind was pounding down at an angle and had been since Friday night. Linda and I drove out to Assembly Square to see Return of the Jedi at the movie complex there. There were eight theaters in the complex showing the same eight movies that every other theater complex in the Northeast was showing. The supply of product must be down in Los Angeles.
"It's going to be a very cute movie," Linda said. She was wearing high-heeled boots, tight jeans, and a tan raincape with the hood thrown back. The rain was coming straight into my windshield and the wipers were sweeping not drops but sheets of water off the glass. I was wearing a trench coat and my dark brown low-crowned cowboy hat. With the coat collar turned up I felt very much like Dashiell Harnmett on the outside. Underneath I had jeans and sneakers and a black T-shirt that said SLC DANCE in purple letters. "Cute," I said.
"The first two were adorable," Linda said. "I should think a romantic like you would like them."
"No horses," I said. "I don't like a movie without horses."
The parking lot had been temporarily diminished by construction and it was crowded. I found a slot at the far end of the lot.
"Want me to drop you at the door before I park?" I said.
"No, I kind of like the rain," Linda said.
"Me too."
Susan would have wanted to be dropped.
Inside, Linda bought some popcorn and we sat and watched the movie. It took about two hours.
In the lobby, as we shuffled out with the crowd, Linda said, "Now, wasn't that cute?"
"How about silly," I said. "That's almost like cute."
"It was pretty silly, I guess."
"Horses," I said. "Horses would have saved it."
It was still raining like it used to in Korea
"Broz?"
"Yes, Vinnie Morris actually, but you know when Vinnie talks, it's Joe's voice."
Devane nodded again.
"Can we trust them?" Fiori said.
"We can trust them to say what Vinnie told me they'd say."
"Are we suborning perjury here?" Fiori said.
"Probably," I said.
Fiori smiled at me. Her teeth were even and white, her hair was reddish-brown and fell thickly to her shoulders. Her eyes were enormous and blue and innocent. "But in a good cause," she said.
"Yes, ma'am."
"What's Broz get out of this?" Devane said. I shook my head.
Quirk said, "He eliminates a competitor."
Devane said, "And maybe replaces him."
Quirk shrugged. "One creep at a time," he said.
They were quiet then, Riordan sprawled in his chair, his frame too big for it, his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms folded over his chest. Rita Fiori bit her lower lip, and looked at Devane. He looked at Riordan, Riordan nodded. Fiori nodded.
Devane said, "Okay, immunity."
I took an envelope out of my coat pocket and handed it to Devane.
"Names," I said. "They'll come in with their attorney whenever you want. His name's there too."
Devane opened the envelope, looked at the names. Passed the envelope around. "Anybody know them?" he said.
McMahon said, "I do. Both of them."
Fiori looked at Winston. "Hadn't we ought to get a statement from the Reverend Winston?" she said.
Devane pushed a tape recorder across the conference table closer to Winston. "We'll tape what you say," he said. "And transcribe it and give you a copy of the typescript. Do you wish an attorney present? You have that right."
Winston looked at me. I shook my head. Winston said, "No." His voice sounded dry and out of use. He cleared his throat.
"You understand," Devane said, "that you are not receiving immunity."
"Yes."
"Although the judge will know of your help here."
I handed Winston a Xerox copy of his earlier statement. Devane pushed the button on the tape recorder. Winston began to talk, referring to the earlier statement, but supplementing and enlarging, his voice growing stronger as he talked, as if the catharsis of confession had begun to quicken his spirit.
CHAPTER 30
It was Saturday afternoon, and an early August monsoon was upon us. A cool hard rain slanted by a strong summer wind was pounding down at an angle and had been since Friday night. Linda and I drove out to Assembly Square to see Return of the Jedi at the movie complex there. There were eight theaters in the complex showing the same eight movies that every other theater complex in the Northeast was showing. The supply of product must be down in Los Angeles.
"It's going to be a very cute movie," Linda said. She was wearing high-heeled boots, tight jeans, and a tan raincape with the hood thrown back. The rain was coming straight into my windshield and the wipers were sweeping not drops but sheets of water off the glass. I was wearing a trench coat and my dark brown low-crowned cowboy hat. With the coat collar turned up I felt very much like Dashiell Harnmett on the outside. Underneath I had jeans and sneakers and a black T-shirt that said SLC DANCE in purple letters. "Cute," I said.
"The first two were adorable," Linda said. "I should think a romantic like you would like them."
"No horses," I said. "I don't like a movie without horses."
The parking lot had been temporarily diminished by construction and it was crowded. I found a slot at the far end of the lot.
"Want me to drop you at the door before I park?" I said.
"No, I kind of like the rain," Linda said.
"Me too."
Susan would have wanted to be dropped.
Inside, Linda bought some popcorn and we sat and watched the movie. It took about two hours.
In the lobby, as we shuffled out with the crowd, Linda said, "Now, wasn't that cute?"
"How about silly," I said. "That's almost like cute."
"It was pretty silly, I guess."
"Horses," I said. "Horses would have saved it."
It was still raining like it used to in Korea
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