“You know how it is in this neighborhood,” Barrow said as he pulled off his jacket and loosened his tie. “Everyone’s got to make an impression.” He walked back to his desk and slouched down in his beat-up leather chair. The office was cramped and tiny, but Barrow knew the location guaranteed a clientele who’d pay their bills on time. “Now what’s so important that you had to come all the way over here?” he asked.
“To be honest, I’m scared of even talking in my office anymore,” Jared explained. “The walls have ears.”
“All walls have ears. The important question is, who’s listening?”
“I know who’s listening. That’s why I want to know what else you found.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I did some digging into corporate records and found out that Rafferty’s company, Echo Enterprises, is co-owned by our dearly departed chum, Arnold Doniger.”
“What?” Jared asked.
“They’ve been partners for years – built it into a real gold mine.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. So Rafferty had Arnold killed to get control of the business?”
“Depends who gets the business,” Barrow said. “Time will tell.”
“What about the tap on Rafferty’s phone? Is that set up yet?”
“I meant to put it in yesterday, but I didn’t have time. I checked his phone bills, though.”
“And?”
“And nothing. Local calls aren’t itemized, so I can’t see who he’s calling. Sara can get them, though. The DA’s office can have them itemize everything.”
“I don’t care about the DA’s office. In fact, don’t mention them anymore – they’re not going to help us. I need information that’s accessible now. Understand?”
Tapping his thumbs on his desk, Barrow stared at his friend. “I take it there’s still a problem in the bridal suite.”
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t directed at you. Sara and I are just hitting a few speed bumps.”
“I think having you move out is a little worse than a speed bump.”
“How’d you know I moved out?”
“It’s my business to know.”
“Okay, so Kathleen told you.”
“Of course Kathleen told me. What do you expect? She’s worried about you. Says you’re starting to get obsessive – even refusing another piece of movie memorabilia.”
“That has nothing to do with me moving out. I just want to win the case.”
“And Sara’s given you a few too many reasons to think that’s not possible anymore?”
“It’s hard to explain. It’s just that two days ago, she was down for the count, and now she’s hitting like Muhammad Ali. Everything’s been going her way lately.”
Watching Jared fidget with the tip of his tie, Barrow asked, “You really don’t like losing, do you?”
“I hate it,” Jared said, looking up.
“And the fact that your wife’s the one who’s beating you is making you even crazier.”
“I don’t know. There’s more at stake than that.”
“More than your marriage? What’s bigger than that?”
“Nothing I can really talk about,” Jared said despairingly. “Please just drop it.”
An awkward silence took the room. “You’re really in trouble, aren’t you, J?”
Jared didn’t move.
Leaning forward, Barrow opened his bottom drawer and pulled out a.38-caliber handgun. “Here,” he said. “In case.”
Jared took the handgun from Barrow and stared at it. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m the gun-toting type.”
“If you’re in as much trouble as I think you are, you should have a gun,” Barrow said. He rolled up the leg of his slacks, revealing an even smaller pistol in a leather ankle holster. Unfastening the holster, he handed it to Jared. “If you don’t like the big one, take this instead. It’s small, compact, and easy to hide.” When Jared didn’t reach for it, Barrow added, “Just in case.”
Reluctantly taking the gun, Jared rolled up his own pants and put on the holster.
“You barely even notice it’s there, do you?”
“I guess,” Jared agreed. “Let’s just hope I don’t have to use it.”
Sitting in the driver’s seat of his plain white rental car, Kozlow stared at the inconspicuous entryway to Barrow’s office and wondered what was taking so long. Give it time, he told himself. It’s just like Rafferty said: “They have a lot to discuss. Jared’s getting nervous, and as that happens, he’ll start looking for a way out.”
As usual, Rafferty was right. Jared was in the office for almost a full hour. When he did finally leave, Kozlow watched him disappear up the block. He seemed even more tense than when he had walked in.
Looking up at Barrow’s private-detective sign, Kozlow knew it wouldn’t be long. Twenty minutes later, Barrow left his office and headed across Sixty-fifth Street. Here we go, Kozlow thought. Time to return that favor.
With a semihot cup of coffee in hand, Sara arrived at work early Saturday morning. Between the newest developments with Kozlow, the maintenance and negotiations of her other two cases, and the paperwork from the two cases she pled out, Sara was finally starting to understand the temptation of keeping a change of clothes in her office.
Putting the coffee down on her desk, Sara picked up the phone and checked her voice mail. The only message was from Tiffany, who wanted to know why Sara hadn’t picked her up from school yesterday. “Oh, no,” Sara said as she listened to the message. Replacing the receiver, she tried to think of a way to make it up to her.
Sara then flopped in her chair and kicked her feet up on her desk. This is going to be a great day, she thought, putting Tiffany out of her mind. Pop was feeling better; her mundane burglary was now a cut-your-teeth homicide; and while she missed her husband, she felt confident she could keep him safe. For the first time in months, Sara was flushed with confidence. It was all going to work out.
Ten minutes later, Guff stuck his head into Sara’s office. He took one look at her and asked, “What flavor canary did you eat last night?”
“Can’t I just be in a good mood for once?”
“Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing,” Guff said with a mischievous smile, “because today’s your lucky day!” Darting out to the hall, Guff shouted, “Bring it in, boys!” He high-stepped back into Sara’s office, followed by two delivery men carrying a brand-new olive-green vinyl sofa.
“You actually got one!” Sara said in disbelief. “How’d you pull this one off?”
As the men put the sofa down on the right-hand side of the room, Guff explained, “Let’s just say we owe the cute little redhead in Purchasing a favor.”
“What’d you do? Go out with her?”
“Exactly the opposite. I promised her I wouldn’t call her for six weeks. She tried to make it a full two months, but I held my ground.”
“You sure did,” Sara said. She sat on the sofa and patted its cushions. “Ohhhhh, genuine American vinyl.”
“Nothing but the shiniest for my boss,” Guff said as the delivery men left the office. “And that’s not even the best part.” Guff reached behind his back and pulled something from his back pocket. “Guess what I’m holding in my hand right now?”
Sara thought for a moment. “A giraffe?”
“Smaller.”
“A canoe.”
“Smaller.”
“A shrunken head.”
“Uhhh, smaller – depending on how shrunken it is.”
“A magic lasso that makes you tell the truth.”
“Oh, you’re never going to get it,” Guff said. “The paperwork came in during your first week, and although you’re supposed to pick it up yourself, I fudged the rules and picked it up for you. You were so busy, I figured-”
“Just give it to me already,” Sara demanded.
“Okay, close your eyes,” Guff said as Sara obliged. “On three. One… two… three.”
When Sara opened her eyes, she saw what Guff was holding: an official gold badge with the words Sara Tate, DA, and New York County engraved into it. Sara’s badge seemed to sparkle in the morning light.
“Congrats,” Guff said, handing her the badge in its black leather case. “You’re officially an assistant district attorney.”