Corpus Corpus (21 page)

"That certainly proved prescient," blurted Bogdanovic.

"I think fatalistic is a better way to put it," Wiggins replied. "He said, he could only hope that before he died there'd be time to smoke one more good cigar."

"Well he certainly got what he hoped for," Bogdanovic said.

"When he was alive and well at the Black Orchid dinner," Wiggins continued, with a scolding look at Bogdanovic, "I assumed he no longer considered himself to be in jeopardy. You both were there. I think you will agree that he did not appear to be worried about his safety. Quite the contrary, in fact. You'll both recall how he put that scare into everyone by pretending his food had been poisoned. When he pitched forward so convincingly, my heart skipped a beat."

Goldstein chuckled. "So did mine."

"I had never seen him as relaxed as he was Saturday night," Wiggins exclaimed. "He appeared to be delighted that everyone treated him like a cherished member of their family."

With a grunt Bogdanovic shifted in his chair. "Not the people at my table."

The slits of pumpkin eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"If opinions could kill," Bogdanovic said, unlimbering his body and stretching as he stood up, 'Janus would have been dead long before dessert was served."

"Surely, Sergeant B., you do not suspect that he was killed by a member of the Wolfe Pack!"

"To borrow a cliché from the detectives in all those mystery books you sell in your store," Bogdanovic said as he stood at the window and looked beyond the East River toward the flat, dreary expanse of Brooklyn, "I suspect no one, I suspect everyone."

"I hope you are jesting, Sergeant B. If not, I am prepared to vouch for the integrity of everyone who attended the dinner."

Bogdanovic turned from the window. "What about the ones who didn't attend?"

"The only member I know to have specifically stayed away because of Janus was a member of the steering committee, James Hamilton. He was one of the three who voted against presenting the Nero Wolfe Award to Janus. The other two, Nicholas Stamos and Judge Reginald Simmons, attended the dinner. But talking about a murderer being a member of the Wolfe Pack is ridiculous. It is clear to me that he was killed by the person who shot at him."

Bogdanovic held up the slug. "I wonder why that attempt was made with a thirty-eight and the murder carried out with a smaller caliber pistol?"

Wiggins sighed in exasperation. "Good heavens, Sergeant B., do you expect me to have the answer to everything?"

"Of course we don't, Wiggins," declared Goldstein. "But by bringing us the bullet that Janus claimed was fired at him you've certainly cast this case in a new light, for which Johnny and I are in your debt."

"Thank you, Chief. Now may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"I'm afraid it will smack of criticism."

"What are friends for, if not to offer criticism?"

"It's that ghastly photo in the Graphic. How could you have permitted it to be released to that disgraceful rag?"

Goldstein shrugged. "All I can say about the picture is that it was one of those inexplicable things that sometimes happen in the hurly-burly of a murder investigation. I am deeply sorry that it's upset you. And I assure you that I intend to send someone to the Graphic to have a chat with the editor on the subject of the responsibilities of journalism."

"Excuse me for saying so, Chief," Wiggins said, rising ponderously from his chair, "but using the term 'responsibilities of journalism' in the same sentence as the Graphic is an oxymoron, and chatting with Jerry Abelman on the topic is a fool's errand."

"On the other hand, my friend," Goldstein said, accompanying Wiggins to the door, "remember what Sherlock Holmes said on the subject of newspapers in 'The Six Napoleons.' "

"Yes, yes, I know. The press can be a valuable institution if you know how to use it. It's true. I find my daily copy of the Graphic quite useful as a liner for the box where my cat shits."

With a little laugh and a pat to Wiggins's shoulder, Goldstein said, "Again, my friend, thanks for telling us about the attempt on Janus's life, and for bringing us the evidence of it."

"As always, I stand ready to render whatever assistance you might require of me in future."

"And, as always, Johnny and I appreciate the offer."

"There's something you can do to help now," said Bogdanovic from his chair. "I'll be needing a list of guests at the Black Orchid Banquet."

The slit eyes glared angrily. "You are wasting your time."

"I'll also need the names of members who were invited but didn't show up, possibly because they were protesting Janus's presence and his getting the award."

"As I said, there were some cancellations," Wiggins said as his pumpkin face turned an angry pink. "But other than Hamilton's boycott, I have no way of knowing whether anybody else chose to stay away in protest. There are always cancellations. The Black Orchid is held in December. People catch colds. Others have babysitters who don't report for work. Some can't get their cars to start. Take my word for it, Sergeant B., if you set out to find a murderer among the Wolfe Pack, you will be off on the proverbial wild goose chase."

Bogdanovic flashed a boyish grin. "Humor me."

In Wiggins's eyes, the smile constituted a misleading weapon in Bogdanovic's personal crusade against crime, for in Wiggins's experience in observing him at work in two murder cases, Bogdanovic had proved that beneath the veneer of the disarmingly winning charm, the casual, college-boy attire and manner, and the fashion-model good looks worked a brain as keen as any creation of the master writers of detective fiction, past and present, on the shelves of his bookstore.

Defeated, Wiggins said, "Very well, I'll give you the lists. But I know you are wrong."

With that, and a flurrying of the Inverness cape, he barged out of the office.

Standing by the closed door, Goldstein drummed fingers on his belly. "I have this sudden sinking feeling that this case has become like ordering a meal in the Greek diner around the corner from my apartment, where the menu lists the soup of the day. Now, apparently, you are offering me the motive of the day. First, it was a mob hit, possibly tied in with the Mancuso suicide."

"Only because we found Janus's book in Mancuso's room. Until that is explained, I can't rule out a connection between the two deaths on the same night."

"Then it was something to do with Janus's mysterious visits to a guy named Jake Elwell."

"That seems less likely, but it's still on the table."

"Or maybe the motive is buried in files of Janus's cases."

"I'll be sending Leibholz and Reiter up to the ranch today to go through the files."

Goldstein settled behind his desk. "Now, you are adding to the bill of fare the possibility that Janus was killed by someone at the Black Orchid Banquet."

"Or someone who was not there."

Goldstein tilted back in his chair drummed his fingers on his belly. "It's like the poem I read by a man named Hughes Mearns:

As I was going up the stair 

I met a man who wasn't there. 

He wasn't there again today. 

I wish, I wish he'd stay away."

"I'm sorry," Bogdanovic said. "Poetry is not my cup of tea."

Goldstein's chair came up straight. "I know. Neither is the body of work by Rex Stout."

"Am I about to hear more words of wisdom from the corpus?"

After thinking a moment, Goldstein answered, "No, John, but your fascinating and diverse menu of motives does bring to mind a Nero Wolfe ride: 'Eeny, Meeny, Murder, Mo.' "

"Which of the suspects did Wolfe catch by the toe?"

"Now that I think about it, that case also had a legal angle. The secretary of the law firm of Otis, Edley, Heydekcer, and Jett wanted Wolfe to find out why one member of that firm was observed where he ought not to have been, engaging in a conversation with an opposing counsel that the two men obviously wanted kept secret."

"I presume Wolfe solved the case then and there without ever getting up from his chair."

"Wolfe happened to be in the orchid room at the time. He ordered Archie to send the woman away. However, he abandoned work on his flowers quickly after the secretary was found dead. In the time it took for Archie to speak to Wolfe, she had been murdered. As if it were not bad enough that she had been killed in Wolfe's house, the killer had the temerity to strangle the woman with one of Wolfe's expensive neckties. Wolfe found that to be, as he put it, insupportable."

"So who done it?"

"I never give away endings. You'll have to read the story. However, I will tell you that the suspects were three men."

Bogdanovic grunted a laugh. "There you go again. Or rather, there goes Rex Stout again. What was it with that guy and his fixation on the number three?"

Goldstein's jaw went slack in astonishment. "How could you possibly know about that?"

"Maggie Dane pointed it out." As he spoke, his face took on a worried expression. "Geez, I wonder if she's seen that picture in the Graphic. Damn! I should have called and warned her."

"Maggie's a prosecutor. She's seen crime scene photos."

"Yeah, but the guy in this one was a friend."

"A point well taken. Give her a call. Then pay a visit to the Graphic and employ your charms on Jerry Abelman to get him to explain how he got his grubby mitts on the photo in question."

"May I take Maggie along?"

Goldstein grinned. "Only if she promises not to punch out Abelman's lights."

 "THE LAST TIME I laid eyes on Jerry Abelman was five years ago at an Inner Circle dinner," Dane said as an elevator took her and Bogdanovic to the top floor of the ancient building that had been headquarters of the Graphic since the halcyon days of New York journalism in the 1920s, when the city had more than a dozen newspapers. "You do know what the Inner Circle dinner is?"

"It's the annual banquet when the press puts on a show to mock the mayor and other politicians and the mayor puts on his own show in response."

"Five years ago Abelman did a number in drag in a gown that made him look like the great white whale in Moby Dick."

"Wait till you see him now. He must be twice that size. One of these days his body will be as big as his ego."

"MAGGIE DANE," ABLEMAN bellowed as she entered his office. "I expected Bogdanovic to call, but not you. Have you finally come to your senses and returned to New York? Are you now at work in the vineyards of District Attorney Vanderhoff? Please have a chair and tell me all about it."

"Let's just say I'm on a busman's holiday, Jerry."

"When my photographer at that dinner Saturday night told me that the country's top lady prosecutor was looking awfully chummy with the ace sleuth of the NYPD, I thought you two might be on the way to becoming an item for our 'Page Nine Togetherness' feature. Now, here you are in my office. But why do I sense that you are not here in the company of Sergeant Bogdanovic to inform me personally of pending nuptials?"

"You know damn well why we're here, Jerry," Bogdanovic said. "So let's cut to the chase. We want to know all the circumstances surrounding the picture on today's front page, which you say is a Graphic exclusive."

Ableman winked. "Have you seen it in any other paper?"

"No cameraman from any newspaper got anywhere near the crime scene. So how did the Graphical the picture? Is this another example of pocketbook journalism? Was this a case of kill now and cash in later?"

"As you well know, Johnny, I am not obliged to tell you how I got the picture."

"Yeah, yeah. First Amendment! Only what we're talking about is not freedom of the press. We're talking about your impeding an investigation, and quite possibly your being an accomplice after the fact in a case of murder in the first degree."

"By what stretch of even your highly flexible imagination might I be regarded as an accomplice in Janus's murder?"

"That picture did not come from one of your photographers, nor any other newspaper's cameraman. Neither was it leaked by somebody on my side. And it sure as hell wasn't taken by someone who just happened to be passing by. So tell me, Jerry. Who does that leave?"

Abelman's tone was taunting. "The killer, perhaps?"

"Very good, Jerry. I repeat my question. How did your paper get hold of that picture? Who sold it to you? And don't get up on your high horse about the First Amendment giving you the right to refuse to tell me, because if you do, I'll have to report your refusal to District Attorney Vanderhoff. He'll haul you before a grand jury which will certainly cite you for contempt. You know what they say about grand juries. They will indict a ham sandwich if the DA asks them to. And then Vanderhoff will find a judge who has no love for the Graphic and who will be delighted to slap you into the slammer for as long as it takes to persuade you to reveal where you got the picture."

"Of all your legendary charms, Bogdanovic, the one I admire most is your subtlety. First, the Graphic did not pay for it. I have no idea where it came from."

"It just flew in the window?"

"In a way. It was hand-delivered to the receptionist," said Abelman, opening a drawer of his desk and withdrawing a manila clasp envelope. "A young guy dropped it off in this. As you can see, it is addressed to me, with the word urgent on it big black letters. I'm not a fool, Johnny. When I opened it and saw what it contained, and knowing that you'd kept cameras away from the crime scene until after the body was removed, I figured that when the picture was published, you or one of your henchmen Leibholz or Reiter would come around, sooner or later."