I went home to get some sleep.
I didn’t get much.
The phone rang. Dorita.
We’ve got an audience, she said.
Good work.
I know. Be there in an hour.
Where?
The Park Avenue Palace.
I’m on my way, I said.
I drank two cups of coffee. I grabbed a cab. It smelled of clove cigarette smoke.
I almost gagged.
When we got to the Palace, Ramon was at one end of the living room, Raul at the other. A detail that did not escape me. I asked Ramon to join us at the sofa end of the room. He walked reluctantly over, perched on some kind of uncomfortable over-carved antique. Raul remained seated on his throne.
Raul, Ramon, I said, choosing the order deliberately, I know it’s a rough time.
Ramon looked at me impassively. Raul searched assiduously in his pockets for something. A lighter, it turned out. He lit a Marlboro Light.
You know I’m here for Jules, I said. He’s my client. I still have an obligation to do the best for Jules. You understand that, right?
Raul nodded. Ramon remained impassive.
I know you must be very tired. We just have a couple of questions for you. You’ve probably answered them already, more than once. But we weren’t there. So I hope you’ll indulge us for a few minutes.
Please, said Raul with his charming smile. Ask away.
Ramon said nothing.
I turned to Raul.
Truffles, I said. What’s your position on truffles?
His smile went a little crooked.
I’m not sure I understand you, he said.
Epicurean delight? Or Frog fraud?
He paused a second to figure that one out. Then the charming smile came back.
I think some thinly shaved white truffles can add to a dish, he said with a small chuckle.
Interesting, I said. I incline more to the Frog fraud theory. I mean, think about the taste, in isolation.
Kind of root-cellary, said Dorita.
Precisely, I said. You know, if potatoes were as allegedly rare as truffles, I bet we’d be paying ten dollars an ounce for them, too.
Maybe so, said Raul, chuckling. Maybe so.
Ramon looked confused.
I was beginning to peg him as the stupid one.
I was feeling good. I’d established some rapport.
I wasn’t fooling myself. This Raul was a slick one. He might well have had his own reasons to seem cooperative. But that was just fine. I could use that.
Guys, I said, making sure to include some eye contact for Ramon. I need your help.
Whatever we can do, said Raul.
Ramon said nothing. Still trying to figure out that truffle thing.
Can you tell us what happened with Mr. FitzGibbon yesterday? Everything you can remember?
We did tell the police several times already, Raul said, shading the smile into apologetic mode.
I understand. I know it’s a pain. But I often find that people remember different things when they’re talking to civilians. The police set up a certain dynamic.
Ah, said Raul thoughtfully. An interesting notion.
With more than one application, I said. But we can discuss that later. Do you mind going over it again once more?
No, not at all, said Raul.
I almost believed him.
Fire away, I said.
We were working.
I’m sorry to interrupt so soon, I said, but what exactly were you working on?
I directed my question at Ramon. I was still searching for a way to co-opt him. He was like a Sphinx, I’m tempted to say. But he was more like a brick.
We were working on the plans for our new club.
I see. You’re starting a new club of your own?
That’s the plan.
Okay, you were at Mr. FitzGibbon’s offices, working on the plans for your new club. Was anyone else there?
No.
I glanced at Ramon. His scowl appeared to have deepened, just a bit.
Where in the building were you?
We were in a conference room, on the same floor as Mr. FitzGibbon’s office.
I noted the incongruous use of the patronymic. I also remarked that Raul, though speaking in the plural first person, never took his eyes off me. Never looked at Ramon. To include him in the conversation. To gauge the degree of consent he was getting for his collective pronouncements.
And he was there too?
Who?
Mr. FitzGibbon.
In his office, yes. He had some deal he was working on. Some takeover thing.
Was it normal for him to work that late?
Sure. All the time. He never stopped working.
Okay, I said. So you’re working. He’s working. Then what?
Then we heard the sirens.
The sirens?
Ambulances. Police. Fire trucks.
He’d jumped?
Apparently. Raul’s smile had turned sardonic. But we didn’t know that yet.
I’m sorry, I said. I just wanted to make sure what you were talking about.
Raul looked at me like a lizard looks at…well, like a lizard looks at just about anything.
Then what happened? I asked.
We went to his office. To see what was going on. There are no windows in the conference room, where we were. His office isn’t far away. He wasn’t there. The French doors, the doors to the balcony, were open. We went out, to look down into the street. To see what was happening. There were an awful lot of sirens. We thought there might have been a terrorist attack or something.
I see.
I looked at Ramon.
He nodded his grudging assent.
And then?
We still didn’t know where Father was.
So it was ‘Father’ now.
We looked down. And then it started to occur to us. What might have happened.
Raul was slowing down. He was in grieving son mode. I looked at Ramon. He was staring at the floor.
I’m sorry, I said. I know this isn’t easy. Can you tell me what happened then?
We found the note.
There was a note?
They both looked at me.
You didn’t know about the note? asked Raul.
I do now. What did it say?
Raul hesitated.
The police asked us not to tell anyone that, he said.
I understand, I said. Where was it?
On his desk.
Handwritten?
No. It was a printout.
A printout?
Of an e-mail.
His suicide note was a printout of an e-mail?
Yes.
For the first time, they both looked uncomfortable.
I let the silence sit for a while. Raul looked straight at me. His gaze was steady, but his confidence was wavering. I could feel it. Ramon was looking at his shoes.
Who was it to? I asked.
The e-mail?
Yes.
We can’t tell you that.
The police asked you not to tell me that?
They asked us not to tell anyone.
Ramon nodded at his shoes.
Had Mr. FitzGibbon said anything to you yesterday, any other time, that might help us understand why he did this?
They both shook their heads. An almost convincing display of dismay.
Well, said Raul, we appreciate your concern.
Our time was up.
Dorita and I exchanged glances.
We needed that note.