Detective

sure I understand this. A private citizen came to the police station of his own accord to deliver to you something he thought might be evidence. In return for his effort, you have taken this conscientious good citizen, sequestered him in a room, held him incommunicado for hours, and then attempted to violate his rights by interrogating him outside the presence of his attorney, and what’s more, have gone so far as to charge this good Samaritan with a crime?”
    “Well—” the sergeant began.
    “Well, gentlemen,” Richard said. “I’m not sure, but perhaps it is not too late to avoid a suit for harassment and false arrest. Now, my client and I are walking out of here. If any one of you lay your hands on us or attempt to detain us, I promise you, on my word as an attorney, that I will be spending every penny you ever make in your lives, and that includes your pensions.”
    Richard and I walked out the door. No one made any effort to stop us.
    Outside, he turned to me and said, “What the fuck is this all about?”
    “I found a bullet in a parking lot where that guy got killed. I thought it might be important so I brought it in. You know the rest.”
    “Assholes,” Richard said.
    “Listen,” I said. “Thanks a lot. And you can do me a favor. Another favor, really.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Listen, I know this is a great story to kid me about and all that, but if you happen to call me on the phone don’t mention this to my wife.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yeah.” I kicked shit a little. “My car shouldn’t have been in the parking lot that night. I was supposed to be somewhere else.”
    Richard gave me his knowing, man-of-the-world look. I tried not to laugh.
    “One more thing,” I said.
    “What?”
    “I don’t know if you could do this, but if you could—”
    “What?”
    “Well, after all that trouble, I’m curious as hell to know if the bullet I found really came from the murder gun. Do you suppose there’s any way you could find out?”
    Richard grinned. “It will be my pleasure.”
    I grinned back. I probably could have liked Richard, if the little prick weren’t only 30 years old, and already well on his way to becoming a millionaire.

37.
    I C HANGED THE T APES A GAIN that afternoon. Maybe it was just that my escapade with Pedro made it seem tame by comparison, but this time it didn’t really bother me. I went back to my office and threaded them up.
    Most of it was just more of the same. Grousing, bellyaching, empty threats against whoever was fucking them over. I enjoyed the part when Pedro got back and related his side of what happened to the Murphy rubout. To hear him talk, I was a real pro. I tried not to get a swelled head. It was hard when he suggested there must have been more than one guy.
    Still, there was nothing particularly interesting until I got to the end of the tape. That was the phone call from Angelo Ospina, from Floridian #2. He wasn’t at all pleased with the way things were going. He was flying up the next day. He wanted to meet everyone at Pluto’s at three in the afternoon.

38.
    Y OU G OTTA G O B ELLY UP , Murphy.”
    “What?”
    I was calling long distance from my office to his motel room in Jersey. I’d used the M.C.I. number because it’s cheaper, although the connection isn’t always as good. This time the connection was just fine, Murphy had heard me all right. He just wasn’t sure what I’d said.
    I was using my best tough guy lingo, an image I felt it best to promote with Murphy. To be honest, I was really doing Al Pacino in “The Godfather” telling Carlo, “You have to answer for Santino.” So I wasn’t surprised that Murphy didn’t get it.
    “You gotta roll over for the cops,” I said. “You gotta tell ’em everything.”
    “I can’t do that,” he said.
    “Yes you can. You have to.”
    “I can’t. They’ll kill me.”
    “You don’t understand, Murphy. They’re already trying to kill you. They don’t need any more motivation. Right now, it’s come down to you or them.”
    “Yeah, but—”
    “You’re not a principal, Murphy. You’re not even gonna do time. You tell your story, you’ll do all right.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Hey, it’s not like you had an option. Murphy. You stay where you are, you go broke. You run it’s the same thing. Maybe you think you could get away and start over, but you can’t. It doesn’t matter where you go. You got no money, and you can’t use your credit cards ’cause they’ll trace