Death's Witness by Paul Batista Read Free Book Online Page B

York police were looking into it. There have been policemen all over Central Park.”
    “There are, for sure,” McGlynn answered. “They do the ground-work, if you know what I mean. They’re the foot soldiers. They look to see what’s in the grass. But we have a parallel investigation.”
    “Why?”
    “Because we want to make sure we find out as much as we can.” And then he coldly responded to the specific question he read on her face. “But I can’t give you the exact reason.”
    Julie realized that the appearance of her face was wan, defeated, but she was surprised at the steel in her attitude toward McGlynn. “I’ll ignore the mystery, although I think I’m entitled to know. I want help. Any help I can get. What can I tell you?”
    Soon she found herself becoming exasperated at the rote questions McGlynn was asking. Where did her husband work? How D E AT H ’ S W I T N E S S
    long had he been a lawyer? Who did he work for? These were not the sorts of pointed questions she expected: questions directed at who had destroyed Tom Perini that night in the darkening park.
    She answered McGlynn’s questions by rote. Near the end of the conversation, almost as an afterthought, he began to ask about that Friday night.
    “All I know is that he came home from work,” Julie said. “He was happy. I suggested that he go for a run in the park. He did.”
    “Did he say anything before he left?”
    “He did. He said he loved me and, before he left, he kissed our 39
    daughter. But he always said he loved me and always spent as much time near her as he could. He was a wonderful man.”
    “Did he say anything about any new people? Anything different? Anything new in his life?”
    “No.” Feeling herself on the edge of both tears and an angry outburst—for she now definitely didn’t like this man; she was overwhelmed by his seeming incompetence—she shook her head,
    “No, nothing, nothing different.” Was he about to ask her about other women in Tom’s life?
    Instead he asked, “Did he have any new clients?”
    “Just Selig Klein. He was the only new one.”
    “How did Klein come to him?”
    “I don’t remember. Through another client, I think Tom said.”
    “Remember the name, the other client’s name, the other guy?”
    “Tom never said very much about things like that.”
    “What did he tell you about his business? I mean lately, last two, three months.”
    “He liked to talk about the trials. I liked to listen.”
    “Did he tell you how much money Klein paid him?”
    She snapped a look of disapproval at him. “No. What does that have to do with anything?”
    “We ask a lot of questions, Mrs. Perini. Looking for stuff that might help.”
    “I don’t know. Tom never told me how much money he got from any particular client. Do you tell your wife how much you earn?”
    P A U L B A T I S T A
    “She knows now. We’re divorced six months.”
    “That’s too bad, or not,” she answered. “But Tom never had any reason to tell me how much any client paid, so I never asked.”
    An internal clock seemed to have buzzed for McGlynn. It was time to leave. “We’ll want to talk with you more later. Can I call you?”
    “Sure.” Julie glanced at her hands because she didn’t want to look at McGlynn’s face any longer. She needed a manicure. “But I don’t think you’ll ever find anything. Do you?”

40
    “Don’t know,” McGlynn said. “But we’ll try.”
    He asked for the check for their coffees and placed a dollar bill under a spoon as the tip. Julie dismissively shook his hand as he left. She watched him as he walked briskly from the restaurant to his unmarked Ford Crown Victoria with United States government license plates. She continued to stare outside after he drove away, turning west on 79th Street toward Central Park. Because clear, late-morning sunlight slanted through the window and fell on her, she could see her face reflected in the window. Even to herself, she looked cried out,