Even the Wicked

"In court or out of town, for instance."

"Anything that would give him an alibi. I checked his desk calendar and his time sheets at the office. I can't prove he didn't have an alibi, because he wasn't around to answer questions, but I couldn't find anything to establish one for him."

"What about the others? Patsy Salerno was next. Another distinguished client?"

"Adrian never represented him. But a few years ago he had one of Patsy's soldiers for a client."

"So?"

"Maybe it gave him a chance to take a strong dislike to the man. I don't know. Maybe it left him with a contact in Patsy's circle, someone who might let slip where Patsy was going to be having dinner and when."

"So Adrian could get there first and hide in the toilet." He shook his head. "It's hard to picture him walking in there in the first place, this Waspy guy chasing up to Arthur Avenue for a plate of ziti and eggplant.

And how does he hide in the can, and how can he be sure Patsy's going to answer a call of nature? I'll grant you Patsy was of an age where you wouldn't expect him to go too many hours between visits to the can, but you could still spend a long time waiting. And Adrian wasn't a guy who'd blend in there."

"More conjecture," I said.

"Go ahead."

"Maybe he didn't try to blend in. Maybe he used who he was instead of trying to disguise it. Maybe he got Patsy's ear and set up a supersecret meeting."

"On what pretext?"

"A traitor in Patsy's ranks. A leak in the U.S. Attorney's office. A message from somebody highly placed in one of the other crime families. Who knows what he made up? Patsy'd have no reason to be suspicious. The only wire he'd worry about is the kind you wear, not the kind that goes around your neck."

"He could even let Patsy pick the time and place," Ray said. " 'I'll make sure the back door's unlocked for you. Slip in, and the bathroom's along the hall on the right.' "

"I don't even know if there's a rear entrance," I said, "but one way or another he'd let Patsy set up a meeting. And he'd make sure Patsy wouldn't mention it to anybody."

"So his identity gives him access. Same as with Richie."

"It strikes me as the best way for him to operate."

He nodded. "When you think of Will," he said, "you picture some Ninja gliding invisibly through the city streets. But the best cloak of invisibility might be a three-piece suit. I suppose you looked for an alibi for him for Salerno's murder? And I don't suppose he was fly-fishing in Montana?"

"As far as I can tell, he was right here in New York."

"So were eight million other people," he said, "and I don't see you accusing them of murder. What about Julian Rashid? How was Adrian planning on getting into the compound in St. Albans?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe he was working on a plan to lure Rashid out. I know he wasn't there when Rashid was killed. He spent the evening with"—I checked my notebook—"Henry Berghash and DeWitt Palmer."

"A judge and a college president? I'd say it's a damn shame the cardinal couldn't join them. I don't suppose the three of them wound up at a leather bar on West Street."

"Dinner at Christ Cella's, fifth-row seats for the new Stoppard play, and drinks afterward at Agin-court.

A notation in his calendar, backed up with a credit card receipt and a ticket stub."

"That's just perfect," he said. "You managed to find him a rock-solid alibi for the one murder Will didn't commit."

"I know."

"You think he set it up that way? He knew Scipio was going to do it and made sure he covered himself?"

"I think it was coincidence."

"Because it's hardly incriminating, having an alibi."

"No."

"Any more than it's incriminating not having an alibi for the other two murders."

'True."

"But we've left one out, haven't we? The abortion guy. Except he'd hate to be called that, wouldn't he?

I'm sure he'd much rather be known as the anti-abortion guy."

"Protector of the unborn," I said.

"Roswell Berry. Killed not here in nasty old New York but halfway across the country in the tele-marketing capital of America."

"Omaha?"

"You didn't know that about Omaha? Whenever there's an ad on a cable channel, a twenty-four-hour eight hundred number for you to order a Vegematic Pocket Fisherman CD of Roger Whittaker's greatest hits, nine times out of ten the person who takes your order is sitting in an office in Omaha. Did Adrian have an alibi when Berry got killed?"

"Yes, he did."

His eyebrows went up. "Really? That sinks your whole theory, doesn't it?"

"No," I said, "it's the closest thing I've got to hard evidence, and it's strong enough to have brought me here tonight. See, Adrian did have an alibi for Berry's murder. And it's full of holes."

* * *

"He went to Philadelphia," I said. "Rode down and back on the Metroliner, had a seat reserved both ways in the club car. Charged the ticket to his American Express card."

"Where'd he stay in Philly?"

"At the Sheraton near Independence Hall. He was there three nights, and again he used his Amex card."

"And meanwhile Roswell Berry was being murdered in Omaha."

"That's right."