Read Online The Cooperman Variations by Howard Engel - Free Book Online

unpleasant business of the omissions in my first conversation with Vanessa.
    “Vanessa, I can’t be much good to a client who isn’t straight with me.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “At 52 Division, I caught up with the story of the spent shotgun shells found in your locker. Did you think that if you said nothing the fact would blow away?”
    “I can explain that. You’re not angry with me, are you?”
    “You’re bloody right I’m angry. Do you have any idea how important those shells are?”
    “They might have cleared me if it wasn’t for those goddamned shells!” She stopped there, as though she was measuring the importance of other things she’d saved me from knowing. “I was going to tell you, Benny, but we never got back there.” She moved a hand to rearrange a tress or two that had fallen over her forehead. “All right, they found the damned shells in my locker and say that they’re like the ones that the murderer used on Renata.”
    “Were they yours?”
    “Of course not! I’ve never owned a gun. And these shells didn’t have my fingerprints either. There were no fingerprints. Or at least, that’s what they say. Benny, tell me that you’re not going to be cross at me. Right now, the way I feel, I couldn’t bear that.”
    “While we’re at it, why did you keep a metal locker in your office? That wasn’t picked out by your friend at Holt’s.”
    “It was part of a pressure play. I’d ordered a proper safe for important papers, but Ted Thornhill was delaying things. You’d think a CEO would be above that kind of pettiness, but you’d lose your bet. I bought the locker myself, for practical reasons and to embarrass Ted. The week before Renata was shot, Ted spotted the locker, and I saw by his red face that I’d won the round. There, Benny, that’s the whole truth.”
    “You’d better tell me the whole truth from now on. If you want to stay alive, that is. Maybe you have other plans?” She made contrite noises and underlined them all with body language, knowing that that was the sure way to distract me. Then she began to berate me about neglecting her. I reminded her that I’d been out of her sight only a couple of times, notably when I was checking in with the police working on the case. Then she told me to leave the solving of Renata Sartori’s murder to the cops; my job was keeping her, Vanessa, alive. She was no longer the supplicant asking for another chance, she was back in the driver’s seat, not a motion wasted.
    “But,” I argued, “finding Renata’s killer could be a shortcut to the same end.”
    “Yeah, and the cops are working that corner, Benny. Don’t crowd them. You stick with me. Watch my back. That way I’ve got two strings to my bow, and I might still be alive in September.”
    “Okay. I hear you. But, there are a few avenues I’d like to try out on my own, Vanessa. I know how to stay out of the way of the official investigation. They’ll know all about me anyway.” I saw the smile fade from her face. I was sinking into the same quagmire of disapproval that had caught Rod with his pants down. I knew I had to talk fast or I was going to line up with the other losers. “Look, Stel—” I did that on purpose to underline our special relationship. “You have told me practically nothing about what happened. I don’t know where you live, who knew you lived there, how long you’ve been in the neighbourhood or anything else. I need to know more about Renata: who her friends were, who your friends are. All that stuff. Where is your place in the country? when did you drive up there? who saw you? when did you get back? where did you buy gas? where did you stop to eat? Your life may be hanging from a thread woven from your full and unedited answers.”
    She was angry at me now. Partially because she thought she had reached a position where nobody could talk to her like that and partially because she knew I was right.
    “Okay, Benny, get out your