-
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
addiction every bit as pathological as Bessemer's addiction to cocaine. He
needed to own, to possess, to collect, like all the men he idolized. It was a
sickness with him."
"None of it fit on a lawyer's salary. You said that when he first showed up in
the case."
"He's been stealing money from his law partners for years, claiming he was
writing checks to his favorite charities and getting the firm to reimburse
him. Only, those checks went right into his own pocket, right into the gas for
his yacht and the art on his walls."
"So get the Double Eagle, get the sheet of paper that makes it legal, and with
one auction, he'd make a seven-million-dollar score that would get him out of
hock and keep him afloat for a lot longer. Phony little prick."
"Think about what else he was telling me. Hoyt was really anxious for Tripping
to take the guilty plea. That way, Andrew would be in jail and out of the
chase for the golden bird."
Mercer also remembered what I was talking about. "It was Hoyt who stopped by
your office late one evening and made a point of telling you that Robelon was
dirty, that Robelon was a target of an investigation in the DA's office?"
"True, he delighted in diverting me by painting a tinge of guilt on each of
the other players. And I fell for it."
"We all fell for it," Mike said.
Another knock on the door and the ranger came in. "We're losing the daylight,
Mr. Wallace. You've gotta get that helicopter out before the sun sets. We
aren't equipped for flying after dark."
Mike got to his feet. "What do you say, Coop? We got our own wings right
outside. Take you anywhere you want to go."
I leaned my head back and tried to clear my mind of its deadly whirling images
of the past week. Dark shadows in the hurricane, Hoyt's sneer as he reached
for the wrench in the cockpit of his boat, the sailor's knot that was probably
looped around Paige Vallis's neck.
"Fly you to the moon?"
I ignored Mike's chatter. "Where's the boy? What's going to happen to Dulles?"
Mercer took me by the hand and helped me up. "Ms. Taggart and the folks at
child welfare have been looking into that for weeks. They never much cared for
Hoyt or his wife. Seems Mrs. Hoyt was always too worried about Tripping's
involvement and probably afraid of her husband, too."
"I can't bear to think of what becomes of the child in all this."
"Could be good news. Tripping's second wife-the one who left him because he
beat her? She always had a good relationship with Dulles. She's married now,
living in Connecticut with her husband and two kids. Says if Andrew is ready
to do the right thing and let go for good, she'd be willing to adopt Dulles."
Mike wouldn't stop. "See, there's nobody to worry about anymore except you.
Forget these sandwiches. They're already stale. We'll pack a picnic basket and
fly-um, can we make it to Paris in this buggy? Anybody know?"
"The coin, Mercer, is anybody looking for the coin?" I asked. "Hoyt must have
taken it from the apartment the day he killed Queenie."
Mercer hooked his elbow in mine, as we walked out of the building toward the
blue-and-white helicopter with the NYPD logos on it. "Teams have blocked off
Page 164
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Hoyt's apartment, his office, and the yacht till they can get warrants for all
that and his bank vaults. We'll find it."
Mike took my other arm and guided me down the path as the pilot started the
engine and the rotors began to spin. "It's going to be a perfect night. The
moon is waxing to full; we can set this baby down in the middle of Times
Square and dance till dawn."
Mercer made a signal of some kind over my head, probably telling Mike to cut
it out.
"It's okay," I said. Mike Chapman knew me every bit as well as I knew myself.
I didn't want to go home just yet. I didn't want to spend the night alone.
I ducked under the blades and climbed up on the pontoons, into the seat behind
the pilot. I had been in a similar chopper scores of times, riding with the
DA's office photographer to take aerial photos of crime scenes. Someone would
return tomorrow to do that over the river and bay, down to the Kills.
After Mike and Mercer got in, the pilot lifted the helicopter in the air,
hovering behind the great green lady. He swooped down and to his left,
circling from behind her enormous arm holding the torch aloft, past her strong
face, illumined at dusk by the lights in her crown.
"Lady Liberty, Coop. She watched over you today. Quite a beauty."
My head rested against the window and I stared back at her, saluting her
silently in gratitude.
"Personally," Mike went on, "the Liberty on the gold piece is a bit sexier, in
my book. This one's got her hair all tied up neat in a bun. The one on the
Double Eagle? Hers is all loose and wild, kinda like yours looks right now."
The sun was setting behind us, west of the Hudson, and straight ahead the
elegant Manhattan skyline was showing off its stunning array of lights.
We were over the river, then above the Chelsea Piers, passing close to the
Empire State Building and the Art Deco spire of the Chrysler Building, coming
in for an easy landing along the East River, in sight of the old deadhouse at
the tip of Roosevelt Island.
A phalanx of detectives was waiting at the heliport to brainstorm with Mike
and Mercer, and to hear my story of the day's events.
"The commissioner wants to see Ms. Cooper before he goes home tonight," one of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- matkadziecka.xlx.pl