A secretary opened the door to Joe Berk's apartment and reluctantly led us up the staircase to his bedroom.
I had called Maxine after leaving the Elk, and learned that Lucy was still in surgery. She had suffered a concussion and had not regained consciousness before they took her into the operating room. She had fractured both hips, multiple bones in both legs, and one of her elbows, but other than a few vertebrae that had cracked, there was no threat of paralysis or spinal cord injury.
Berk was propped up in his bed, watching an old movie on the single television screen on the far wall. A nurse sat on the sofa, trying to occupy herself with something to read as we began to talk to her patient.
"Heard you caught the matinee today, Mr. Chapman. How's the girl?"
"I thought you and your niece weren't on speaking terms."
"I got friends, detective. Joe Berk has friends everywhere. The girl gonna live?"
"Looks good. The resilience of youth, I guess."
"What do you mean 'resilience'? She bounced?" He looked to the nurse for a laugh but didn't get one. "Maybe it's my timing. You know, detective, I never saw a bad-looking nurse until today. Check out the sour puss on this one. The doctors didn't want me to have any palpitations, lemme tell you they found the right girl for the job. The one nurse I wouldn't want to play with, they book her double-time. You two here because of your great concern for me?"
"We're here to talk about Lucy DeVore."
"What's a Lucy DeVore?"
"The girl you just asked me about. The girl who was hurt at the Imperial today."
"The Imperial. Lemme tell you something else about that. You know the Shuberts built that one themselves, 1922? Not these guys today who run the organization. The originals-J.J. and Lee. Nobody like 'em." Berk was brilliant at sidetracking the conversation when it wasn't going his way.
"I read the plaque. Let's get back to Lucy-"
"Me, I just buy up the theaters. Those guys built 'em. Fifteen, twenty, thirty-the most beautiful and elaborate showcases in the world. The reason we still have legitimate theater today, despite all the movie houses and home videos, is because of J.J. and Lee Shu-bert. I can't remember how many of those gorgeous stages they're responsible for, but there was a time when Broadway theater was the most popular form of entertainment in the city. It's coming back, detective, and it's Joe Berk who's keeping it alive."
"You're doing a bang-up job, Joe. I'm more interested in how come Lucy D-"
"And you know who their architect was, the Shuberts? A guy with the godawful name of Herbert Krapp is the one who designed these dream palaces."
"Mr. Berk-"
"Krapp. Can you imagine it? Talk about a boy who should have changed his name. Forget Yussel Berkowitz. Forget Peter J. Schmuck. 'Hey there, it's me-Krapp.' 'How do you do, ma'am, I'm Mr. Krapp.' What do you say to your family? 'Don't worry about your future, kids, I'm doing business with Krapp.'"
The nurse picked up her magazine and chose this moment to take a break, walking out of the bedroom to the staircase.
Mike stood next to Berk's side and shouted in his face, "Cut it out, Berk. End of the road. Lucy DeVore says you're the man."
"What are you talking about? My guys tell me she wasn't even conscious. Don't bullshit me, detective, or next time I call the commissioner, I won't be such a prince. You'll be working security down in Macy's basement."
"She was talking plenty at the hospital, before they wheeled her into surgery. Told me about the money you gave her. Told the nurse taking her history you were her next of kin and gave this number as the phone to call. Am I close?"
Mike held out the hundred-dollar bill to show Berk, then picked up the receiver next to the bed to see whether the digits on it matched the private telephone number on the portable plastic handpiece. He gave me a thumbs-up to tell me they did.
Berk threw back the covers and sat on the side of the bed. He was wearing nile green satin pajamas, the bottoms drooping below his hips. He screamed for the nurse as loud as he could. "You wanna be responsible for my goddamn blood pressure? Get Florence Nightingale back up here before I bust my gut. I don't know any Lucy DeVore and I never did. You know how many people have Joe Berk's phone number? Sweetheart, you mind handing me the bedpan?"
"Hold that thought, Joe. Ms. Cooper hasn't played doctor with anyone in longer than I can remember, and she won't be starting with you if I have anything to say about it," Mike said, pushing me away. "I don't buy your antics, I don't buy your sudden urge to relieve yourself, and I don't buy your denials. Lucy DeVore."
"Shove it, detective."
Mike took out the phony driver's license and held the girl's picture under his nose. "Look at her, Joe. This kid is living in a rathole on Ninth Avenue, and the only thread that seems to link her to the Great White Way has your name on it and a direct line to your boudoir."
Again Joe yelled out the nurse's name.
Mike reached for the brown alligator wallet on the nightstand. He opened the billfold and removed a wad of cash, spreading it in his hand like a deck of cards. "All hundreds, Joe. Ben Franklins, every one of them. Want me to start checking serial numbers against the bill we found in Lucy's room, see if I get a run of 'em? This how you pay off your girls?"
Mike was wilder than I'd ever seen him before in such tame circumstances-not a street chase, not a shoot-out, not a dangerous confrontation with a violent perp. I knew he was angry and unhappy, but he was doing things he would never have done on the job before Val's death. Playing with a rich man's money never had a happy ending on a police blotter. I tried to take his arm to get him to put down the cash. Instead, he threw the fanlike fistful of money onto the floor, watching it scatter around the room.
"You're a real tough guy, Mr. Chapman. You think the commissioner won't take my call? You think he won't do what Joe Berk tells him to do with some dumb mick cop? Get that nurse up here to pick up my money."
"Tell me how you met that girl. Don't you understand I'm not getting out of here until you've done that?"
Berk held on to his pajama bottoms and reached over for the portable phone. Mike got to it first and tossed it out of the room onto the top of the stairs, listening to it bounce to the bottom and settle on the floor.
"Say you got to the phone and let's pretend you dialed nine one-one. I'm what you got, Joe. I'm the friendly neighborhood guy on the beat. You're off the hook on the age thing, Joe. Nothing to worry about there. Lucy gave it up to the doctor. She was nineteen last winter. She's over the age of consent."
Berk picked up his head and looked at the expression on Mike's face. Mike's bluff seemed to have found its mark.
"Who's nineteen? That-that kid today-the one you call Lucy?"
"What do you call her?"
"I don't know if we're even talking about the same girl." Berk had flopped back onto the side of the bed. The slightest bit of exertion- his argument with Mike-had exhausted him in his already weakened condition.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Joe. That great-looking young kid who had some kind of a future twenty-four hours ago is going to wake up in intensive care tomorrow with two brand-new titanium hips and legs with more screws in them than you've got hundred-dollar bills. I want somebody who cares about her to be standing there when she opens her eyes. That's all I'm looking for here."
"Look somewheres else. I never laid a glove on her."
Mike pulled a chair up under himself, turned it around so he could lean against the back of it, and and faced Joe Berk close up. "Where'd she come from? Why'd she end up in the Elk? That's worse than the ninth circle of hell, for Chrissakes."
Berk rolled onto his back and leaned against the two pillows stacked behind him. "Who gives a shit where she comes from? I don't know how they find me, but they do. Maybe it's a setup."
"What kind of setup, Joe?" Mike said, softening his tone. "You looking at Coop? There's nothing you can say to shock her, trust me. She's seen and heard just about everything."
I was slowly moving back to the far wall, knowing that Berk would be more likely to disclose something he found embarrassing if I faded out of the room.
"She doesn't look as tough as you," Berk said, lifting his head to stare at me.
"They got a whole wing at Attica named in her honor, Joe. A pavilion, packed to the gills. SRO in your business. Full of the most depraved men you'd ever hope not to meet in a dark alley. And they didn't wind up there because of Coop's charm. Where most women have a heart? She's got a pair of steel balls. That's how come you know when she gets excited-you can hear them clanging against each other from miles away. Feel free to speak your mind in front of her. I always do."
Berk's mouth twisted in a half-smile.
"You were telling me you think someone set you up. You mean, with Lucy?"
"I got a weakness for women. Not babies, not teenagers, not little girls. I like the ladies. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
Mike was silent. He probably had the same visual I did, which made the thought of getting anywhere near Joe Berk's satin pajamas repugnant at any age.
"And the truth is, the ladies like Joe Berk," he said, raising the same half-smile as he patted his belly. "A good-looking young guy like you might find it hard to believe they throw themselves at me, but they do. I know, I know-you're thinking it's the money or the casting couch or the connections. Lemme tell you, Mr. Chapman, women are suckers for guys with a lot of class and a lot of clout."
"Lucy DeVore, Joe. How'd you meet her?"
"Dancing. I saw her perform in something, a month or two ago. Somebody introduced her to me after the rehearsal and bingo, she was looking for my help."
"Who made the introduction? Dancing in what?"
Joe's head was back against the pillow now, his eyes closed. "I said a rehearsal, in a studio. Day in, day out, that's what I do everyday to make a buck. You expect me to remember what house, what stage, what the tune was? It don't work like that, sonny."
"She's pretty striking looking. Hard to forget that long platinum hair, longer legs."
"What kind of stupid are you, Chapman? She's platinum this month because that's the name of the show she wants to be in. I met her, she was something else. Maybe dark-haired, maybe red. If she was blond, I might have shtupped her. I might have given her a run for her money."
"Joe, look me in the eye. You telling me you had a shot at that sexy kid and didn't even make a stab at it?"
"May my late wife rest in peace. Izzy Berkowitz, too. Nothing."
"What kind of help did she want?"
"What they all want. Put her in a show, make her a star. Hey, she was practically at the end of her rope when I met her. Back-to-back auditions, with every unemployed gypsy in the business showing up."
"Was she living at the Elk then?"
"I don't make house calls, detective. I don't know where she was living. You'd leave this place if you owned it?" Berk said, waving his hand in a circle around the room. "They come to me, Chapman."
"Did you give her money?"
"Yeah, I gave her a few hundred bucks. Told her to get a decent meal, buy some clean clothes."
"For nothing in return, no reason at all?"
"You the only one that gets to ask questions, Chapman? I'm just the answer man?"
"Your turn, Joe. Ask away."
"You're so interested in my love life. Lemme ask-you and Ms. Cooper here-you two an item?"
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing out loud. Joe Berk stopped Mike in his tracks and seemed pleased to have done it.
"Like you said, Joe, the broads like guys with class and clout. I come up short on both."
"C'mon. You're a handsome kid, full head of hair, you're built like an athlete, and you got that kind of John Wayne swagger about you. You might even be smart-how the hell do I know. What's wrong with you, Ms. Cooper?"
I walked up behind Mike's chair and tousled his hair. "I've tried everything in the book, Mr. Berk. He just won't give me a tumble. I'll have to come back and get some pointers from you when you're feeling better."
"Think, Joe. Anything Lucy might have told you that would help as with her?" Mike had warmed up the old guy, now he wanted results.
"I've given you all the help I can. How do you figure Rinaldo Vicci comes into the act? You think he represents street urchins? I know my niece won't consider the girl for a role if I make the call, so I told Vicci to take her to the audition. He talks out of both sides of his mouth. See if either stream of his bullshit makes sense."
Maybe if Mike pulled on the fringe of Vicci's cashmere scarf Rinaldo would remember that Lucy DeVore got to him directly from Joe Berk. Now I had to figure why Vicci had lied to me about that.
The nurse was in the doorway of the room, tapping the face of her watch to signal that she was about to cut short our visit.
Mike stood up and swung the chair back into place. He reached for the plastic drinking cup on the bedside table that Berk had been sipping from and crumpled it in his hand, tucking it in his pocket. "Sleep on it, Joe. Anything comes to mind and you don't want to bother your pal the commissioner tomorrow, give me a ring. By the time Lucy's out of the anesthesia, she'll tell us the rest of the story."
Berk cocked his head and opened one eye to look at Mike. "Fairy tales, detective. Little girls make up stories like they were fairy tales. Watch out for that."
I was headed for the staircase when I heard Mike tell Berk he was still working on the murder investigation of Natalya Galinova. "This patron of hers, Hubert Alden, you know him, too?"
"If I came from his kind of background, they'd call me a patron, too. It's all in the bloodlines, Chapman. You oughta know that by now. Sure, Joe Berk knows everybody."
"Any idea why he was at the Imperial today?"
"What do I care? I'm still trying to figure out why he thought he was entitled to take Talya out to dinner after her performance last Friday. Maybe Vicci called him, maybe Mona invited him. They'd probably be looking for him to pick up the tab for your girl, Lucy, if they really thought she had a future."
"The night she was killed?" Mike asked, aware that Alden had just claimed to us that he had been in Vail the night of the murder. "I had the impression Mr. Alden was out of town last weekend."
"Why? Because he told you that's where he was?" Berk shook his head. "If I tell you I'm the Count of Monte Cristo, you're gonna believe me? No, but him, you take his word for it."
"You know different?"
"When I got to Talya's dressing room, she was still onstage. I picked up her cell phone to call my driver. I saw she had a message, so I played it back. It was Alden, telling her he'd pick her up and take her for a late supper if she gave him a ring."
"How come you didn't tell us that when we talked to you on Saturday?"
"It slipped my mind, Mr. Chapman. My short-term memory is bad." He gave Mike his crooked smile, the one that expressed his delight at being a hard-ass.
"You didn't happen to collide with Mr. Alden backstage, did you, Joe?"
"I didn't stick around, buddy. I don't do time-shares with my ladies. I'm a very exclusive kind of guy."