Read Online Due Diligence by Michael A. Kahn - Free Book Online Page B

head. “I’ve already answered that,” he snapped. He had a cold, high-pitched voice. “The police asked me the very same question. I spent three hours with them. I provided answers to every conceivable question about young Rosenthal. As a matter of fact, I went down to the police station to answer them.”
    I tried an acquiescent smile. “That’s why I came to your office, Mr. Sullivan. I don’t want to inconvenience you, and I certainly don’t want three hours of your time, sir.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back from his big desk. “Three hours? You won’t get three more minutes of my time, Miss Gold.”
    He was bald with a high forehead and visible blue veins at each temple. The veins were bulging at the moment. “I cooperated with the police,” he continued, “because obviously we would like to see young Rosenthal’s killer caught. But that is as far as our obligation reaches. I have no valid reason to talk to you. You are not the police, you are not the prosecutor. And—” he paused to squint at me “—you are not actually his lawyer. You conceded as much yourself, Miss Gold. You said he talked about retaining you, but he never did. You have shown me no letter of retention, no power of attorney. Young Rosenthal worked on a variety of important matters for this firm. Many are confidential. I cannot and will not divulge such information to a private individual with no official capacity in the matter. That is precisely what I told that unfortunate rabbi. That is what I am telling you as well. The police have my answers. You will just have to rely upon them to solve the crime. And now it is time for you to leave.”
    I tried another question, but that only made him more adamant. He wouldn’t even tell me what David Marcus had asked him during their meeting. Frustrated, but not wanting to burn any bridges yet, I ended the meeting on what I hoped was a polite note. “Here’s my card, Mr. Sullivan,” I said, sliding it across the desk toward him. “I’m extremely concerned about Bruce Rosenthal’s death, especially the possibility that it might be connected to Rabbi Marcus’ death. I plan to keep asking people questions until I’m satisfied. Please call me if you have any information you’re willing to share.”
    He frowned at my business card as if it were a dead mouse, and then leaned forward to press the intercom button on his telephone. “Donna, it’s time for you to escort Miss Gold back to the lobby.”
    Fifteen seconds later, Donna marched into the room. She stood nearly six feet tall, with close-cropped blond hair framing a severe face. She looked like Central Casting’s choice for the dental hygienist at the offices of the Marquis de Sade, DDS. The only accessories missing were the studded breastplate, the thigh-high leather boots, and the ominous coil of dental floss.
    On the way down the hallway toward the reception area, Donna the Dominatrix and I passed an empty conference room. I stopped with a flustered expression. “Oh, I just remembered,” I said to her, “I’m supposed to call the court clerk about an oral argument.” I pretended to check my watch nervously. Agitated, I turned toward the conference room. “Would it be okay if I called from here? It’ll only take a minute.”
    She scowled. “Dial nine for an outside line.”
    I thanked her and went into the conference room, closing the door behind me. The telephone was on the credenza against the far wall. I picked up the receiver and dialed Sports Line. As the call went through, I opened the top drawer. As I expected, inside the drawer was a Smilow & Sullivan Office Telephone Directory. It consisted of two pages stapled together. All professionals were listed in one column, all secretaries in another, and all administrative and support staff in two others. It was