Night Secrets (18 page)

Frank looked at him quizzically.

“His medical practice is only a profession. He does it differently. For what is called in German only the
Geschäft
. For the business, but not the love of it.”

“I see,” said Frank. “But what does that mean?”

“That to the making of plays, as the poets say, there is no end.”

Frank smiled quietly. “You mean, no end to the cost.”

Farouk nodded.

The smile broadened. “So Powers is in debt.”

Farouk now smiled as well. “To Mr. Devine, the companion of his youth, through one of Mr. Devine's companies. Business Associates.”

Frank leaned forward instantly. “Business Associates?”

“Yes,” Farouk said, already reading Frank's suddenly intensified interest. “You have heard of it?”

“Mrs. Phillips called there this afternoon,” Frank said. “She got an answering machine.”

Farouk nodded. “So she was seeking Mr. Devine?”

“That's the way it looks.”

“Who is himself associated by matters of debt to Dr. Powers.”

“How do you know about all this?” Frank asked.

“Public debt is a matter of record, my friend,” Farouk told him. “It is written down, as they say, in the Book of Life.”

“So it's a legal debt, completely public?” Frank asked, surprised. “Signed contracts, the whole thing?”

“Entirely,” Farouk said. “Except for the amounts.”

“What do you mean?”

“Two years ago, Dr. Powers lost a great deal of money on a play,” Farouk said. “He had many creditors. To pay them off, he did what is often recommended, he consolidated his debts. He went to Mr. Devine and borrowed a large amount of money. The terms of this indebtedness were publicly recorded.”

“And with the money he got from Devine, Powers paid his other debts?”

“All of them,” Farouk said. “Clearing all indebtedness from his credit report.” Farouk leaned forward slightly and snapped his fingers. “As they say on the street, ‘Like that.'”

“But if it's all legal, all public—this debt, I mean—what does it tell us?”

“Well, for one thing, the debts were more than the amount he borrowed from Devine,” Farouk explained. “That is interesting, in itself. But more interesting is the fact that Powers only paid Devine back a part of the money he owed. The remainder of the debt is still outstanding,” Farouk said.

“How much?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

Frank whistled. “Powers still owes Devine that much?”

“Unless it was forgiven,” Farouk said pointedly.

“Forgiven?”

“In lieu, as they say, of something else?”

“Like what?”

“Forgiveness of debt can come for many reasons,” Farouk said. “Sometimes it is a matter of the blood. A father forgives a son's indebtedness. Sometimes it is a matter of the heart. Friendship, for example. But sometimes debt is forgiven in lieu of other forms of payment.”

Frank considered it for a moment. “Such as?” he asked finally.

Farouk shrugged. “Well, it is always possible that Dr. Powers is providing some kind of service to Mr. Devine.” He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead softly. “To know this, I will have to discover certain things about Mr. Devine himself.”

“Devine,” Frank repeated softly, almost to himself. “Did you find out anything about his business? The other one, that Allied Global-East place on Forty-seventh Street?”

“That I do not know as yet,” Farouk said. “But I will soon discover it”

Frank took a sip from the coffee. “I like Turkish,” he told him.

“Because it does what it claims,” Farouk said matter-of-factly. “That is why.”

Frank thought a moment longer about the connection between Powers and Devine. He came up with nothing but what Farouk had already stated.

“But what about Mrs. Phillips?” he asked finally. “What do you think this relationship between Powers and Devine has to do with her?”

“She goes from one to the other,” Farouk said. “More than this, I cannot say.”

“Could she be carrying the bag?”

“That is possible.”

“Or maybe she's just an investor, along with Devine.”

“Another factor in Business Associates,” Farouk said. “This is also possible.”

“Or she could be anything,” Frank added. “Anything at all.”

Farouk smiled. “And thus, the third alarm.”

“The what?”

“In a fire, the third alarm is the bell that signals when all hands must be applied,” Farouk said. “It is sounded when the flames are beyond control.” He stood up, his hands plucking at the rosebud again. “I must go now to meet Mr. Devine.”

“How'd you get an appointment with him?”

Farouk smiled knowingly. “By relying upon the secret of all allure,” he said. “The promise that you alone may grant a man the full force of his dreams.”

“What was his dream?”

“Money,” Farouk said crisply.

Frank looked at him pointedly. “That must have made it easy for you.”

Farouk nodded. “Very easy, yes,” he said. Then he smiled quietly. “When the dream is simple,” he added. “It is simple to deceive.”

It was still faintly light when Farouk trudged up the cement stairs, and after a few minutes of lingering in his office, Frank went up them too, then turned right and headed down the street. He walked first to La Femme Gatée and had a sandwich. After that, he walked down Eighth Avenue to Smith's Bar and ordered his nightly Irish. He sipped it slowly while the bar's old-time habitués drifted in and out. They had the hard, leathery look of people who'd managed to see the whole thing through, and for a while, Frank felt a certain envy of the way they'd managed to make it to the end, snap the ribbon which still fluttered at the finish of their long, impossible run.

He ordered a second Irish and sipped it slowly, like the first, his mind drifting back as it always did, to those moments in his life which still struck him as worth remembering, soaring hopes, searing losses. Beyond these, it was a long flat plain, and it was too late for him to deny that he'd been living on that plain for more years now than it made sense to remember. He imagined that there must be a way back to the mountains and the valleys, but the only one he'd ever found—drink—had led him to places that were even worse. Everything else was an episode, a little love affair with Karen, a case that first burned him to the core and then brought Farouk to him like a large, lumbering angel. Still, for all that, none of it was enough to keep the wolves at bay, and for a moment he tried to imagine what would actually be able to do that for him. Then suddenly the Puri Dai came back to him in a vision of dark hair and flashing eyes, and he found himself yearning for time to pass quickly so that he could see her again, join her in the night. He was still anticipating it as he left the bar and headed back toward his office. Night had fallen entirely by then, and the darkness seemed only to intensify the yearning that he could feel building within him. It was nearly unbearable, his need to see her, so that he seemed almost in a haze by the time he reached Forty-ninth Street.

Deegan was waiting for him, leaning impatiently beside his car.

“I've been here for two hours,” he said irritably. “She wouldn't leave until she saw you.”

“She?”

“The woman, your client, or whatever she is,” Deegan said. “She made a full confession, and they released her into my custody.” He shrugged. “No priors, and no resources to escape. The jails are full.” He smiled mockingly. “I made an eloquent plea, and so they gave us the day.”

“What happens after that?”

“A halfway house,” Deegan said. “Minimum security. For now.”

Frank glanced about. “Where is she?” he asked quickly. Then he glimpsed her, astonishingly free and only a few yards away.

S
he was standing in the dark corridor, her back pressed against its bare brick wall. There were bits of paper and old bottle caps at her feet, and for an instant Frank felt the impulse to sweep down and clear them away, to tidy things up a bit, the littered walkway she stood in, the rumpled sofa in his office, the cluttered desk and dank, stuffy closet. But it was too late, and so he simply nodded to her coolly, kept himself in check.

“I'm surprised to see you here,” he said.

Her eyes were only partially visible in the shadowy light, but Frank still had no problem sensing how lethally they rested on him.

“When did you get out?” he asked.

The Puri Dai watched him cautiously as he approached her, then passed by and stepped over to the door.

“This morning,” she said crisply after he'd started to open it.

“What was the bail?” Frank asked casually as he inserted the key and swung open the door.

“Only that I must return,” the woman said.

Frank looked back at her, surprised. “For murder, that's all they asked?”

The Puri Dai shrugged. “A document was delivered, that is all I know.”

“Where are you staying? At the halfway house?”

She didn't answer, and Frank decided not to pursue it. He stepped into the office.

“Come in,” he said as lightly as he could.

She followed him into the room, then watched him warily as he took off his hat and walked over to his desk.

“I haven't had much time to work on your case,” Frank said. “Just a little at night.” He gave her a determined stare. “But I want you to know that I'm not giving up on it.”

The Puri Dai stepped toward him. “That is what I have come to tell you,” she said. “You must end this. You must not continue.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is over.”

“What is?”

“There is no defense,” the woman said. “I have made my confession.”

“Yeah, Deegan told me.” Frank sat down behind his desk. “When did you make this confession?” he asked.

“Last night.”

“Did you make it without him?”

“He is nothing to me.”

Frank leaned back into his chair. “What did you say in the confession?”

“That it was I.”

“That you killed the other woman?”

The woman lowered her eyes slightly, but didn't answer.

“You must have given them quite a few details,” Frank said. “They don't automatically accept confessions.”

“What I knew,” the Puri Dai said, “that is what I told him.”

“Him? Who did you confess to?”

“One of the men who was there.”

“At the prison?”

“That night.”

“Tannenbaum?”

She shook her head. “The other one. The one who is like you in the way he speaks.”

“Southern? McBride?”

She nodded. “He listened for a long time.”

“You told him everything? All the details?”

“Everything.”

Frank leaned forward slightly. “Tell me.”

She glared at him, as if he'd asked her to do something obscene.

“I need to know,” Frank said immediately.

She looked at him doubtfully.

Frank made up a reason. “For my records,” he said. “So I can close the case.”

The Puri Dai was not convinced.

“That's what you want, isn't it?” Frank asked. “For me to close the case?”

“Yes. That is what I want.”

“Then just answer a few questions,” Frank told her, “and it'll all be over.”

Her eyes squeezed together determinedly. “It is over now,” she said. “As I have told you. I do not want you to go on with this.”

“I heard you,” Frank said coolly. “But it's not that easy. Not for me.”

She turned away slightly, her face a dark profile against the front window of the office.

Frank took out his notebook. “Were you alone when you killed her?”

She did not answer.

“Was anyone else in the room?”