New Tricks - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,52

persuasive, Agent Spodek. Now, shall we get this over with?”

We go back in and immediately get down to more serious negotiating. I repeat that I know with certainty who killed Timmerman, but that I can’t reveal how I know. I also tell him that I’ll need him to answer certain questions, and that I will not reveal where I got any information he provides. But I will, of course, use that information in the defense of my client.

“Agreed,” he says. “With the caveat that there will be certain questions I cannot answer.”

I insist on asking the questions first, because I’m not about to tell him what I know and then have him clam up. He goes along with that, which I take as a good sign. Cindy obviously told him I can be counted on to live up to my terms of the deal.

“Why are you conducting an investigation into Walter Timmerman’s death?” I ask.

“We’re not. Our interest in him started well before he died.”

I nod. “Okay. Why were you interested in him?”

“In the last year of his life he was doing scientific work that was of extraordinary importance.”

“Was he doing the work for you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, but it was a matter of national security. We were intent on making sure that it did not get into the wrong hands. Let’s just say that Mr. Timmerman was not quite as concerned about national security as we were.”

“So he was going to sell it to the highest bidder?”

“That was a distinct possibility.”

“What kind of work was he doing?”

“That I cannot tell you. It would cost me my job, as it should.”

“Was he murdered because of his work?” I ask.

“I’ll be better able to answer that when I learn who did the murdering.”

I ask some more questions, trying without success to probe into the kind of work Timmerman was doing. If I can demonstrate to a jury that Timmerman was doing something involving dangerous people, then I have a better chance of demonstrating reasonable doubt.

I’m reasonably sure that Corvallis is telling the truth, but I decide to play my last card as a test. “Where does Thomas Sykes fit in with all this?”

Corvallis looks surprised. “Timmerman’s partner? As far as I know, he doesn’t fit in at all.”

I stand up and start sniffing the air. “Anybody smell any bullshit in here?”

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“It means that I know you are working with Sykes, but you just told me you aren’t. And I know that he called you the other day. So why are you telling me otherwise?”

Corvallis nods. “Sykes has been working with us for months; we’ve been using him to learn as much as we can about Timmerman. He’s still under instructions to call us if he learns anything. He told us about your discovery of his affair with Mrs. Timmerman.”

I nod; the explanation makes sense.

“Your turn,” says Corvallis. “Who murdered Timmerman?”

“Jimmy Childs.”

Corvallis doesn’t look surprised, nor does he ask who Jimmy Childs is. Obviously, he is familiar with the man. “How unfortunate for your client that he turned up dead.”

I nod. “You got that right.”

“Who hired him?” he asks.

“I have no idea. But he was paid half a million dollars for three hits.”

“Three?”

“Timmerman, his wife, and their dog.”

“Their dog?” Corvallis asks, again not showing any surprise.

“Yes, a Bernese mountain dog puppy, the descendant of a recently deceased champion.”

“And Childs was definitely targeting the dog?” Corvallis asks.

“Yes. Any idea why that would be?”

“I’m afraid that’s something I can’t answer.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“At the end of the day, does that matter?”

Actually, it does. Especially to me and Waggy. But I’m clearly not going to get any more out of Corvallis, at least not until I have something more to trade, so I look to end the meeting.

“Well, this has been a true joy,” I say. “Hard to believe it’s ending so soon.”

I expect a sarcastic retort from Corvallis, but he surprises me. “Why did you have lunch with Charles Robinson?”

“I have lunch with a lot of people.”

“I’m only asking you about one of them,” he says.

“He’s trying to get custody of a dog.”

“The dog Childs was sent to kill?”

I nod. “The very one.”

“Did he say why?”

“He wants to train him to become a champion show dog.”

“What did you say?”

“I said no, and he said, ‘See you in court.’ Why are you interested in Robinson?”

Corvallis looks at Cindy, then back at me, and smiles. “This has been a true joy,” he says. “Hard to believe it’s ending so