you"
"Victor Marsden's dead."
"Are you sure?"
"I saw the body."
"How did he die?"
Crowley frowned. It had to be all he could do not to say,
"I'm asking the questions here." He restrained himself, said,
"He was shot."
"Where?"
"In the bedroom."
I opened my mouth.
He grinned like a schoolboy. "Couldn't resist. He was shot in
the head. One shot, bam, center of the forehead, dropped like a
rock. Killer was a pro, knew exactly what he was doing."
"When was he killed?"
Crowley cocked his head. "You need my help in solving this
crime?"
"No, but you can make me feel better"
"Excuse me?"
"If anything I did indirectly caused this guy's death, I'd like to
know it."
"So would I. What did you do?"
"Isn't this where that Miranda warning would come in?"
"I already know what you did from MacAullif. Only his version is all hypotheticals and guesswork. Be nice to get the straight
goods."
"Why isn't this being taken down?" I asked.
He shrugged. "No reason. We just like to know what you're
going to say before you say it."
"What did MacAullif tell you?"
"You had him run two phone numbers. One was an English
teacher from Harmon High. The other was a hitman for the mob.
No sooner does he run the hitman's record, when the guy gets
rubbed out. That alone would be enough to put you on the hook,
even if you hadn't been posing as Rollo Tomassi."
"I can explain that."
"Feel free."
"It's from L.A. Confidential."
"I know the reference. Why did you use it?"
"I wanted to shake the guy up. I thought if he knew the reference, that would do it"
"And why did you want to shake the guy up?"
"So something like this wouldn't happen"
"What made you think it would?"
"We're getting into areas here where I might need an attorney."
"You have the right to an attorney."
"Was that a Miranda?"
"Oh, for Christ's sake. This is a conversation."
"Yeah, only you say later, `I told him he had the right to an
attorney.' "
"You're being awful cagy. Who you trying to protect?"
"Me."
"What have you done wrong?"
"I haven't done a damn thing wrong."
"Then you got nothing to worry about."
"Tell it to some guy who's served twenty or thirty years in jail
before being cleared by DNA"
"Let me help you out here. The way I understand it, you were
hired by this hitman,Victor Marsden. Last night you observed him
in the company of another man who went up to his apartment.
You left shortly thereafter. Sometime today, late morning or early
afternoon, the gentleman returned and rubbed out the hitman."
"Without being seen?"
Crowley was only human. He couldn't hold out any longer.
"Why am I the one providing all the information? Yeah, without
being seen. Which is why we put it between twelve and one, even
before we get the medical report. That's the time the doorman
goes to lunch and the janitor fills in. It's summer, the regulars take their vacations, most of these guys are replacement temps. Anyone
with the balls to flash 'em a smile and stride right to the elevator
as if they live there could go right up. I would expect a hitman to
have fairly big balls."
"Good point."
"Thank you. Now then. A hitman hired you. Someone killed
him. That would seem to terminate the employment. Wouldn't
you like to know who did it?"
I sighed. What a mess. Crowley was going on MacAullif's misinterpretation of the hypotheticals I'd given him. As a result, he had
next to nothing right. And I had no way to correct him without
sticking my neck in a noose.
I wondered if it was time to barter for immunity.
"What about the teacher?" I said.
"What about him?"
"Have you checked out the schoolteacher?"
"Yes, of course. The schoolteacher is a schoolteacher with an
unblemished record. Why you chose him as a red herring is your
business. I'm sure you had a reason. Not that I care."
"You might want to give him a second look."
I don't know why I said that. I suppose it was vindictive. I was
pissed off at being deceived, and couldn't bear to see
"Victor Marsden's dead."
"Are you sure?"
"I saw the body."
"How did he die?"
Crowley frowned. It had to be all he could do not to say,
"I'm asking the questions here." He restrained himself, said,
"He was shot."
"Where?"
"In the bedroom."
I opened my mouth.
He grinned like a schoolboy. "Couldn't resist. He was shot in
the head. One shot, bam, center of the forehead, dropped like a
rock. Killer was a pro, knew exactly what he was doing."
"When was he killed?"
Crowley cocked his head. "You need my help in solving this
crime?"
"No, but you can make me feel better"
"Excuse me?"
"If anything I did indirectly caused this guy's death, I'd like to
know it."
"So would I. What did you do?"
"Isn't this where that Miranda warning would come in?"
"I already know what you did from MacAullif. Only his version is all hypotheticals and guesswork. Be nice to get the straight
goods."
"Why isn't this being taken down?" I asked.
He shrugged. "No reason. We just like to know what you're
going to say before you say it."
"What did MacAullif tell you?"
"You had him run two phone numbers. One was an English
teacher from Harmon High. The other was a hitman for the mob.
No sooner does he run the hitman's record, when the guy gets
rubbed out. That alone would be enough to put you on the hook,
even if you hadn't been posing as Rollo Tomassi."
"I can explain that."
"Feel free."
"It's from L.A. Confidential."
"I know the reference. Why did you use it?"
"I wanted to shake the guy up. I thought if he knew the reference, that would do it"
"And why did you want to shake the guy up?"
"So something like this wouldn't happen"
"What made you think it would?"
"We're getting into areas here where I might need an attorney."
"You have the right to an attorney."
"Was that a Miranda?"
"Oh, for Christ's sake. This is a conversation."
"Yeah, only you say later, `I told him he had the right to an
attorney.' "
"You're being awful cagy. Who you trying to protect?"
"Me."
"What have you done wrong?"
"I haven't done a damn thing wrong."
"Then you got nothing to worry about."
"Tell it to some guy who's served twenty or thirty years in jail
before being cleared by DNA"
"Let me help you out here. The way I understand it, you were
hired by this hitman,Victor Marsden. Last night you observed him
in the company of another man who went up to his apartment.
You left shortly thereafter. Sometime today, late morning or early
afternoon, the gentleman returned and rubbed out the hitman."
"Without being seen?"
Crowley was only human. He couldn't hold out any longer.
"Why am I the one providing all the information? Yeah, without
being seen. Which is why we put it between twelve and one, even
before we get the medical report. That's the time the doorman
goes to lunch and the janitor fills in. It's summer, the regulars take their vacations, most of these guys are replacement temps. Anyone
with the balls to flash 'em a smile and stride right to the elevator
as if they live there could go right up. I would expect a hitman to
have fairly big balls."
"Good point."
"Thank you. Now then. A hitman hired you. Someone killed
him. That would seem to terminate the employment. Wouldn't
you like to know who did it?"
I sighed. What a mess. Crowley was going on MacAullif's misinterpretation of the hypotheticals I'd given him. As a result, he had
next to nothing right. And I had no way to correct him without
sticking my neck in a noose.
I wondered if it was time to barter for immunity.
"What about the teacher?" I said.
"What about him?"
"Have you checked out the schoolteacher?"
"Yes, of course. The schoolteacher is a schoolteacher with an
unblemished record. Why you chose him as a red herring is your
business. I'm sure you had a reason. Not that I care."
"You might want to give him a second look."
I don't know why I said that. I suppose it was vindictive. I was
pissed off at being deceived, and couldn't bear to see
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