New Tricks - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,24
says. “The shooter… nuh.”
That probably represents as long a speech as I’ve ever heard from Marcus, and with that he turns around and walks out, sucking all the air out of the room with him. When talking about celebrities and politicians, it’s often said that when people with real presence, real star power, walk into any room, they take it over. They become the center of everything. That’s the way it is with Marcus, and when he leaves there’s a void left behind.
Kevin stares at the door, openmouthed. “Did he just say what I think he said? That he’s going after the guy who shot Laurie, and that he’ll do something bad to him when he finds him? Maybe kill him?”
“Not in so many words, but yes.”
“That’s vigilante justice,” says Kevin.
“I prefer to call it good old-fashioned vigilante justice.”
Kevin thinks for a moment. “Me too,” he says.
I don’t know who or where the shooter is, but if he’s smart, he’s getting his affairs in order and choosing a casket.
Kevin goes down to the jail to update Steven Timmerman, and I go back to returning cell phone messages. This one is from Cindy Spodek, a good friend of Laurie’s and mine who is an FBI agent in Boston. She is one of the people I turn to for information if my cases involve the bureau in some fashion, and she has been as helpful as she can be while maintaining professional confidences.
Her call was to inquire about Laurie, and I tell her what I know, which is unfortunately not much.
“She’ll make it, Andy. She’s a fighter.”
I know everybody is being well intentioned, but that line is starting to drive me crazy. “Right.”
“Any leads on the shooter?” she asks.
“I think so. They got the make of the car, and a partial license. Pete Stanton is the lead detective on it.”
“Good,” she says. She knows Pete, and the kind of cop that he is.
“And Marcus has vowed revenge,” I say.
“Game, set, and match,” she says. “You going to ask for a delay on Timmerman?”
I’m surprised she’s even aware that I am representing Steven. “I’m going to take a couple of days to figure that out. How did you know I was on it?”
“Are you kidding?” she says. “You cost me an assignment.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“There’s a task force on it. I was going to get assigned, but then you came on board, and they reworked it because they knew we were friends.”
This is bewildering to me. “Why was the bureau investigating Walter Timmerman?”
“That I don’t know; I hadn’t gotten briefed yet. And you know I couldn’t tell you if I did know.”
“Understood,” I say. If she doesn’t know anything, there’s no sense trying to cajole her into revealing more.
It’s only when we get off the phone that I realize exactly what she said. If I cost her the assignment, then the bureau’s task force is still in existence, even after Timmerman’s death, because I obviously got involved well after the murder.
It’s not that the bureau “was” investigating Walter Timmerman. It’s that the bureau “is” investigating Walter Timmerman.
The question is why.
AT FIVE O’CLOCK the nurse comes in to speak to me.
It’s really just an update; she doesn’t have any new information to share. She reaffirms the doctor’s comments that the shorter the coma lasts, the better the prognosis is for future recovery, though she won’t come close to committing to specific time frames.
What’s encouraging to me is her focus on Laurie’s chances for recovery, rather than survival. As the doctor said, one step at a time.
Richard Wallace calls me to express his concern for Laurie, whom he knows fairly well. He apologizes for not having called earlier, but he was in court all day.
“Andy, if you need to ask for a continuance on Timmerman, I certainly won’t contest it. Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks, Richard. I appreciate that. Right now Kevin’s working on it while I figure things out.”
“Kevin’s a great lawyer. Much better than you,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.
“Right,” is my clever retort. While Laurie is down the hall in a coma, I am resistant to any mood lightening. “By the way, Richard, why is the FBI on Timmerman?”
“What does that mean?”
“They have a goddamn task force investigating Timmerman.”
He is silent for a few moments. “I didn’t know that.”
This doesn’t seem possible. “No idea?”
“No idea, Andy. Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure, though please do not reveal where you heard it. Do you have a guess as