Hell’s Kitchen by Jeffery Deaver

Author:Jeffery Deaver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books

SIXTEEN

“Hey, mister, you got yourself a famous lawyer working for you. He sued the Port Authority and won. You ever hear of anybody suing the city and winning?”

The man sitting at Louis Bailey’s desk rose the instant Pellam entered the room. It was the green-jacket handicapper from yesterday. The man with a lock.

“Cleg, please,” Bailey said, self-effacing.

“And tell him about the time you sued Rockefeller.”

“Cleg.”

The skinny guy seemed to have forgiven Pellam for not taking his tip about the horses. He said, “Rockefeller stole this guy’s invention and Louis took him to court. He caved too. Louis scared the bejeebers out of him. Hey, sir, you look like a cowboy. Anybody ever tell you that? You ever ride broncos? What is that exactly, a bronco? I just know about the O.J. one. The white truck, I mean.”

“It’s an untamed horse,” Pellam said.

“Well, how ’bout that,” Cleg said, astonished—a handicapper who’d just discovered a different kind of horse. He took more gear-greasing envelopes from Bailey and left the office.

“He’s quite a fellow” was all that Pellam could offer.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bailey said ambiguously. Then he opened that morning’s paper. Slapped it. “Look at this.” The front page story was about a fire at a gas station in the Village. “That’s our boy.”

“The pyro?” Pellam asked.

“They’re pretty sure. Almost got him but he got away. Seriously injured two cops and three pedestrians. Almost a million dollars in damage.”

Pellam examined the picture of the devastation.

Bailey swallowed a mouthful of wine. “This is turning into a nightmare. There’s a public uproar. The Police Department and the Attorney General are under incredible pressure to get this guy. They think that he’s gone nuts. Like Ettie switched him on and he won’t shut off now. It’s become a citywide crusade to stop him.”

Pellam bent wearily over the paper. There was a sidebar that included a map of Hell’s Kitchen. Tiny drawings of flames marked the spots of the fires. They were in a pattern, it seemed—a semicircular shape north of Ettie’s building.

Bailey found a slip of paper, handed it to Pellam. “That’s the insurance agency where Ettie got the policy. The woman who sold it is a Florence Epstein.”

“What’d she say?”

Bailey looked at Pellam with a significance that escaped him completely.

“I’m sorry?” Pellam tried.

“I can’t talk to her. I’m Ettie’s attorney of record.”

“Oh, I get it. But I can.”

Bailey sighed. “Well, yes, but . . .”

“But what?”

“You know, sometimes . . . well, with that black outfit of yours, you look a little intimidating. And you don’t smile a lot.”

“I’ll be charm itself,” Pellam said. “As long as she’s not lying.”

“If there’s any hint of intimidation . . .”

“Do I look like the sort who intimidates?”

Bailey was suddenly very uncomfortable and he changed the subject. “Here. I went to the library.” He set some clippings down in front of Pellam.

“You went yourself? You didn’t bribe some librarian to bring them to you?”

“Ha.” Bailey was too busy wrestling the seal off a new wine bottle to smile.

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