Notorious (16 page)

M
elanie had to stop
herself from gasping as Philippe Poe extended his hand, that's how much he looked like his father. They were at the reception following Lester's funeral, in the grand apartment, and Melanie hoped for a quiet moment to peek into Lester's office. In the meantime, she'd learn anything she could about Lester from his look-alike son. The moody boy in the old newspaper photos was unrecognizable in the dashing man standing before her. Philippe was smaller in stature than his father had been. His hair was still ink black, not yet silver. And he had the rough complexion of a man who'd had poor skin as an adolescent, whereas Lester's face had been smooth and tanned. Other than that, Melanie might've been looking at the dead man.

“You are?” he asked, taking her hand in both of his. The grand parlor was crowded with people, some of them famous, but he made her feel as if she had his complete attention. Another way in which he resembled Lester.

“Melanie Vargas. Pleased to meet you. The service was very moving.”

“Yes. I always knew he did a lot of great things with his work, but the eulogies…so beautiful.”

“Yes, they were.”

“Did you know my father well?”

“I'm a prosecutor, and we had a case together. He was a remarkable man. Even though we were on opposite sides, we became great friends.”

“I see,” Philippe said, his eyes flicking up and down to take Melanie in more completely. Maybe it was the slight French cadence that lent a worldly air to his words, or maybe it was that knowing glance, but she suddenly understood what it had been like to have Lester for a father. There must've been a lot of women around.

“I'm very sorry for your loss,” she said. “Especially with Brenda's death right afterward. That must be so difficult.”

“Brenda was my stepmother. She wasn't exactly my favorite person.” He paused. “That must have sounded callous, but she wrecked my parents' marriage.”

“I didn't know that.”

First the Charity Bishop scandal. Then the possibility that Lester Poe had lied about Atari Briggs wanting to cooperate. Now this. Melanie really hadn't known the man, and her view of him was rapidly tarnishing.

“She didn't exactly go around talking about it,” Philippe said.

“I know how you must feel. My father has a second wife I've barely ever spoken to. If she died, I wouldn't shed a tear.”

Philippe laughed. “That's the first natural thing anybody's said to me all day.”

“It must've been hard for you.”

“Oh, I was too young to know anything at the time. Brenda came on the scene right after I was born. And later, well, I was used to it.”

“You live in France?” Melanie asked.

“Yes. Did my father tell you that?” Something in his voice seemed to hope that Lester had thought to mention him.

“No. I read it in one of the obituaries.”

“My mother is French. She moved us there after the divorce and ended up remarrying. I consider Jacques my real father, but I spent summers with Lester in Sagaponack, and we were good friends. He was like a favorite uncle for me.”

Sagaponack. Perhaps the most exclusive enclave in the Hamptons. The place where Charity Bishop had been found floating, naked and dead, in Lester Poe's swimming pool.

Melanie had come here in search of new evidence. She needed to find some, so she decided to take a shot in the dark.

“Funny,” she said, looking Philippe smack in his gray eyes. “I had the distinct impression Lester didn't like to talk about Sagaponack, although I never quite understood why. Do you know?”

He turned bright red. An older woman in an elegant suit was gliding toward them.

“Excuse me, I must say hello to my aunt,” Philippe said, his voice suddenly cold. “The host is expected to mingle. We have food in the dining room, so help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

From Philippe's reaction, Melanie concluded that Charity Bishop was still a sore spot for him thirty years after her death. Interesting, given that neither Lester nor Philippe had been charged with a thing. And obviously, no love had been lost between Philippe and Brenda, either, for whatever that was worth. It struck her that with Brenda out of the way, Philippe stood to inherit a lot of money. Melanie made a mental note to learn about Lester's will.

She moved into the dining room, which featured high ceilings, an enormous crystal chandelier, and shimmering floor-length drapes. A magnificent buffet table laden with delicacies called out
to her, but she was merely passing through on her way to perform reconnaissance. She planned to slip into Lester's office, go through his desk, and find something—anything—that could shed light on Atari's aborted cooperation. She wasn't violating attorney–client privilege because Lester wasn't Atari's lawyer anymore. She wasn't violating the Fourth Amendment despite the lack of a search warrant because Lester was dead and his right to privacy had died with him. There was no legal impediment to her plan. If there were other objections—moral, practical—she refused to let them stand in the way of finding answers. Melanie wasn't born to be cautious. When she tried to be cautious—say, by not getting all the information she could have out of Brenda Gould the day they met—it never turned out well.

Melanie kept to the perimeter of the grand dining room and turned her face toward the art on the walls. Otherwise, in this law-heavy crowd, somebody would surely recognize her. She retraced her steps as best as she remembered from the morning she'd visited Brenda Gould. As she moved toward the back of the apartment, the buzz of conversation dropped away and she walked in silence, her steps muffled by the thick Persian carpet. The corridor was dark, and the occasional glimpses she caught into dim rooms revealed that all of the mirrors were covered with blankets. Her overheated mind thought
vampires
until she recalled that this was a Jewish mourning custom. But it set her on edge nonetheless.

At the very back of the house, she found the heavy wooden door that led to Lester's office. All her nerves were taut with anxiety as she reached for the antique glass doorknob. But it wouldn't turn. The door was locked. She got down on her knees and examined the mechanism. It had an old-fashioned keyhole, the type she imagined sticking a hairpin into, but who carried hairpins nowadays? She did have a Bic pen. She tried shimmying the long stem of the plastic pen cap around in the keyhole, but that accomplished nothing. She
turned the doorknob, harder this time. Still locked. Melanie decided she'd better give up before she attracted attention, so she got to her feet and turned to go.

She let out a shriek. Evan Diamond was standing right on top of her, regarding her with a malignant grin.

H
e reached out and
grabbed both her arms, hard. Melanie twisted around to try to get away from him. But Diamond was strong, and he had her in an iron grip.

“Let go of me!” she cried.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” The calm in his voice sent a shiver through her.

“I was looking for the bathroom.”

“You were not. You were trying to break into Lester's office. What did you think you'd find in there?”

She opened her mouth to scream and he slapped a hand over it, which left one of her arms free. She slammed the liberated elbow into his stomach and jerked the other arm down hard. He grunted and let go. She got a few steps down the hall before he caught her by her hair.

“Aaagh!”

She was just about to scream her head off when Bob Adelman came down the corridor toward them, his mouth slack with shock. Bob was a criminal defense lawyer who'd been a friend of Lester's.
He was also a decent guy, somebody who would help her if he could, though he was short and stocky and no match for Diamond in a fight.

“Bob!”

“What the…my God, what is
happening
here? I was on my way to the bathroom and I heard the commotion. What are you
doing
?”

Adelman's mere presence was enough to bring Diamond to his senses. He let go of her hair and stood there brushing imaginary dirt from the lapels of his perfect suit. He wasn't even mussed, whereas Melanie's knees were shaking and her breathing was coming in shallow heaves.

“You're crazy,” she said. “I could have you disbarred.”

“You have
me
disbarred?” Diamond snarled at Melanie. “I know what I saw. You were about to commit a crime. You just try to come after me and I'll have your license.”

“Please, both of you, people will hear,” Adelman said.

“Mind your fucking business, Bob. I know where you live, too. This isn't over.”

Diamond stalked away. When he'd disappeared from sight, Adelman asked, “Are you all right?”

“I need to catch my breath.”

“I can't believe he grabbed you like that. What was it about?”

“We're on the Briggs case together. We don't see eye to eye.”

“Apparently not.” He paused, as if waiting for her to say more. “Suit yourself, Melanie. You don't have to confide in me. But be warned. I know Evan Diamond well, and he's a dangerous man.”

“Yes, I see that. Rumor's one thing, but now that he's grabbed me by the hair, I have a whole new perspective.”

Melanie's breathing had calmed down. Adelman regarded her with open curiosity. He was pleasantly rumpled and had a trustworthy, hound-dog sort of face. Melanie had always had a good feeling about him.

“I'm just on my way out,” Adelman said. “If you've paid your respects, maybe you should come along. I know a diner where we can get a cup of coffee and talk without fear of being overheard. I've learned some troubling things lately about Lester and Evan Diamond. Things that might interest you.”

 

T
he diner that Adelman took her to on upper Madison was one she'd been to before. It was overpriced, a hangout for wealthy moms and their spoiled preschoolers, but the food was good. With everything happening on the case, Melanie figured she might not get dinner tonight, so she broke down and ordered a cheeseburger despite the extortionate price tag.

“Coffee and a black-and-white cookie,” Adelman said. “The cookies are excellent here.”

“I can't believe I had a physical fight with Evan Diamond,” Melanie said.

“I guess you never practice in Brooklyn criminal court,” Adelman said. “With what goes on there, I've seen distinguished members of the bar land in the hospital.”

Melanie laughed.

“You know what
I
can't believe?” Adelman said. “I can't believe Lester's dead.”

“You may not remember this, but you introduced me to him.”

“I do remember. At Clyde Williams's fund-raiser at the Met, right? Les was very taken with you that night.”

“Was he?” she asked wistfully.

“Very much so. He called me the next day and interrogated me about you.”

Melanie blushed.

“Naturally I said a lot of nice things,” Adelman continued. “I'm surprised he never asked you out.”

“Oh, but he did,” Melanie said. “He took me to dinner and tried to recruit me.”

“Funny, I didn't get the sense that he was planning to offer you a job,” Adelman said.

“Maybe not. But pretty soon after that, we ended up on opposite sides of the Briggs case, so a date was out of the question.”

Adelman frowned. “Briggs. I need to talk to you about that case. There's some background you might not be aware of. But first, Melanie, do you know yet who killed Lester? Can you tell me? If I knew, it would explain a lot of things, and I might be able to connect some dots for you.”

“I wish this could be a give-and-take,” Melanie said, shaking her head. “I have a lot of respect for you, Bob, and I trust you as much as I've ever trusted anybody from the other side of the aisle. But to answer your question, I don't exactly know who killed Lester. You know the guy who detonated the bomb was found dead?”

“Sure, that was all over the news. An Algerian, right?”

“Yes.”

“But no ties to terrorism.”

“No
known
ties,” she emphasized.

“From what I read, the guy was a small-time con. Credit-card scams, selling clone phones. Penny-ante stuff. And he'd been in the U.S. since he was a kid,” Adelman said.

“That doesn't mean anything. He could've been a sleeper.”

“He'd never been overseas. Unless you know something that's not in the paper?”

“Look, in all honesty, they've got me walled off from the bombing investigation because I'm trying the Briggs case. I don't know much more than what you've read, and what little I do know is confidential. I could lose my job if I told you anything.”

The waitress slapped their food down in front of them. Melanie doused her burger with ketchup and took a bite.

“I don't want to put you in a bad position,” Adelman said. “I'll tell you what I know, no strings attached. If it helps, great. If not, at least I got it off my chest.”

She nodded.

“Okay, first of all, there was big trouble between Evan and Lester. Evan wanted out from under Lester's shadow, but he didn't want to give up any of the spoils. He was trying to muscle in and take over the firm,” he said.

“Why would he think he could do that?” Melanie asked. “Lester's clients wouldn't abandon him for Diamond.”

“They might if Les agreed to it.”

“Why would Lester agree to be forced out of his own firm? He built it from the ground up. I've never understood why he shared an office with Diamond, or worked with him even as much as he did.”

“Evan was blackmailing him, that's why.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“I do.”

“Over what?”

“Something that Lester was involved in that left him vulnerable. Something from a long time ago.”

“You're talking about Charity Bishop.”

“You know about that?” Adelman asked, looking astonished.

“I've been doing my homework. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but—well, what the hell, the bomber's dead. Bob, I was there when Lester was killed. I saw it all. We were talking one minute and the next Lester was”—she hesitated, and cleared her throat—“well, he was…”

Adelman squeezed Melanie's hand. “I know.”

“Anyway, since then I've felt very…
connected
to Lester. The long and the short of it is, I need to find out why he died and who's responsible.”

“I understand.”

“So the blackmail
was
over Charity Bishop's death?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know Lester back then, back when it happened?”

“Oh, yes. I've known him for a long time. We were classmates in law school. We've stayed very close over the years.”

“Did you ever meet the girl?”

“Once. In the city, midtown, at lunchtime. This was, what, twenty years ago? More? I bumped into her and Lester on the street and he introduced me.”

“They were having lunch together?”

“Apparently.”

“They were alone?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know, was he sleeping with her?”

“I don't know that for a fact, but from what I observed, I'd bet on it. You know she was Philippe's girlfriend, though, right?”

“No! No, I didn't know that.”

“Philippe was very serious about her. Picking-out-the-ring serious even though he was very young at the time. It wasn't mutual, however. She wasn't the type of girl who wanted to settle down. After the fact, I did some digging into her lifestyle and found out that she was quite the wild child. Very promiscuous. Hardly the right woman for somebody like Philippe, who was awkward and quiet and had some fairly traditional views about life. She liked his money. And from what I could tell, she liked his father.”

“You were the one who dug up the dirt on Charity, weren't you? The scandals that got covered in all the papers back then?”

“I represented Lester during the investigation, if that's what you mean. He was under a cloud of suspicion, quite unfairly in my view. There was no solid evidence that Charity had been murdered, but
if she had, there were plenty of other suspects. I did what any competent lawyer would do for his client and brought that fact to the public's attention.”

“Lester had an alibi, but as I recall, it wasn't a very persuasive one.”

“What do you mean? He was out to dinner with his son.”

“There was no evidence for that except the statements the two of them gave. Bob, tell me the truth. Did Lester kill Charity Bishop?”

“I'm not sure anybody killed her, but I'm positive that
Lester
didn't. Philippe? Maybe, who knows? Look, I saw the autopsy report. The Bishop girl had drugs and alcohol in her bloodstream, a contusion on the back of her head, and water in her lungs. Water in the lungs means she was breathing when she hit the swimming pool.”

“But somebody knocked her on the head and pushed her in.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she fell and knocked herself on the head.”

“Did the autopsy reach a conclusion on that question?”

“The report concluded that the contusion came from a blow with a blunt object. But I could've found an expert to testify that it came from hitting her head on the side of the pool, no problem.”

“What makes you so sure Lester didn't do it?”

Adelman shrugged. “What can I say? I know the guy for a lotta years. He wouldn't hurt a woman.”

“But if Lester was innocent, how could Diamond blackmail him with Charity's death?”

“It wasn't
himself
that Les was protecting. He was innocent, but I'm not so sure about Philippe. Or frankly, Brenda.”

“Brenda?”

“She was home, at the house in Sagaponack, at the time of the incident. You have to see this in context. Les had a long history of protecting Brenda, of saving her from herself. That's how they met. She was strung out on drugs, and he took care of her. Les always had to save the world, and saving Brenda was part of that. Besides,
if something untoward happened here, it happened because of Les's relationship with Charity Bishop. The guilt alone would have been enough to motivate him to cover up.”

Adelman took a swig of his coffee and grimaced.

“So Brenda's motive for hurting Charity would have been jealousy?”

“Sure, what else?”

“But didn't Brenda and Lester have an open relationship? She told me so herself, that she had lovers and so did he.”

“That didn't mean she was happy about the situation, or that she never got jealous. In any event, they got divorced right after this happened, so draw your own conclusions.”

Melanie thought about that for a minute, and new possibilities opened up. Brenda had pretended not to care about the other women in Lester's life. But obviously she'd cared. Enough to kill one of them?

“I suppose if Brenda had killed Charity and Lester had discovered that fact,” Melanie said, “he might've divorced her for that reason.”

“That's very likely. Les may have been a ladies' man, but he was honorable, Melanie. He would never have approved of murder.”

“You're suggesting he helped cover one up.”

“I'm suggesting he protected somebody he loved. That's Les, to a tee.”

“If Diamond was blackmailing Lester over the Charity Bishop case,” Melanie said thoughtfully, “could that blackmail have anything to do with Lester's death?”

“Les's death, I'm not sure.” Adelman leaned forward, raising his bushy eyebrows. “But I'm convinced it had something to do with Brenda's. Melanie, Brenda Gould's death was no suicide.”

“I didn't think so, either, but then I got a copy of the autopsy report. She died from an overdose of alcohol and heroin. They don't even think it was suicide. They ruled it accidental.”

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “Brenda was clean, I'd bet on it. If she was going to fall off the wagon, she'd do it with booze. Not drugs.”

“Tell me everything you know about the day Brenda died,” Melanie said.

“She was about to be interviewed by the FBI. She'd called and asked me to come along with her when she talked to them. She planned to tell them everything about Les and Evan, including the fact that Evan had them under all sorts of illegal surveillance. Phone taps, bugs, you name it. Les was sweeping every week and there was always something new. I'm sure whatever was in there is gone by now. Evan's not stupid.”