The Burglar in the Closet - By Lawrence Block Page 0,17
definite taste for the rhubarb jam. I wasn’t positive I’d go running out for another jar when this one was finally finished, but I was beginning to like it. Coffee, though, was not quite the right accompaniment. A pot of strong English breakfast tea, that would be more like it. I’d have to remember next time.
“I can’t believe Craig would kill her,” she was saying. “She was a bitch and he hated her but I can’t believe he would kill anyone. Even a rotten tramp like Crystal.”
I tried to remember that Latin phrase for speaking well of the dead, then gave it up. De mortuis ta-tum ta-tum bonum, something along those lines.
“If only I could talk to him, Bernie.”
“You haven’t heard from him?”
“Nothing.”
“What time did they pick him up?”
“They didn’t say on the radio. Only that he’d been arrested for questioning. If it was just a matter of questioning they wouldn’t have had to arrest him, would they?”
“Probably not.” I paused, chewed rhubarb-laden toast, considered. “When was Crystal killed? Did they happen to say?”
“I think they said the body was discovered shortly after midnight.”
“Well, it’s hard to say when they would have gotten around to picking Craig up. They might have questioned him without charging him for a while. He could have insisted they charge him, but he might not have thought of that. And he might not have bothered insisting on having a lawyer present. In any event, somewhere along the way he must have called an attorney. He wouldn’t have a criminal lawyer but his own lawyer would have referred the case to somebody and he’s almost certainly got counsel at hand by now.” I thought back to my own experiences. I used a couple of mouthpieces over the years before I finally settled on Herbie Tannenbaum. He’s always straight with me, I can call him at any hour, and he knows he can trust me to come up with his fee even if I don’t have anything in advance. He also knows how to reach the reachable judges and how to work trade-offs with the D.A.’s people. But I somehow doubted he’d be the kind of lawyer Craig Sheldrake would wind up with.
“You could get in touch with Craig’s lawyer,” I added. “Find out from him how things stand.”
“I don’t know who he is.”
“Well, maybe he’ll call you. The lawyer. If only to tell you to cancel the appointments. He shouldn’t take it for granted that you happened to catch the newscast.”
“Why hasn’t he called yet? It’s almost ten-thirty!”
Because you’re on the phone, I wanted to say. Instead I swallowed some food and said, “They may have waited until a decent hour before they arrested him. Don’t panic, Jillian. If he’s been arrested he’s certainly in a safe place. If the lawyer doesn’t call you sometime this afternoon, make some calls and find out where he’s being held. They might even let you see him. If not, at least they’ll give you the name of his attorney and you can take it from there. Don’t expect Craig to call you. They’ll let him call his lawyer and that’s generally the extent of his phone privileges.” Unless you bribe a guard, but he wouldn’t know how to go about doing that. “You don’t really have anything to worry about, Jillian. Either you’ll hear from the lawyer or you’ll get in touch with the lawyer and either way things’ll work out. If Craig’s innocent—”
“Of course he’s innocent!”
“—then things’ll get straightened out in no time at all. They always pick up the husband when the wife gets murdered. But Crystal led a rather loose life, from what I’ve heard—”
“She was a slut!”
“—so it’s likely there were any number of men with a good motive and opportunity to kill her; and she might even have brought home a stranger—”
“Like Looking for Mr. Goodbar!”
“—so I’m sure there are more suspects in this case than cockroaches on Eldridge Street, and the World’s Greatest Dentist ought to be back drilling and filling in no time at all.”
“Oh, I hope so!” She took a breath. “Can’t he get out on bail? People always get out on bail, don’t they?”
“Not when the charge is Murder One. There’s no bail allowable in first-degree murder cases.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Few things are.” More toast, more coffee. “I think you should just sit tight, Jillian. Either where you are or at your apartment, wherever you’ll be more comfortable.”
“I’m scared, Bernie.”
“Scared?”
“I don’t know why or what of but I’m terrified. Bernie?”
“What?”
“Could