CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

THIRTY THREE
“First, let me express my condolences on your
loss. I know it was a professional relationship but it
must have knocked you for a loop, what with your
show still being in rehearsals and all.”
“Thank you, Joe. I appreciate that. We’re all
starting to find our way past the tragedy.”
“Is your show still going to open?”
“Of course it’s going to open. Danny Limm
wouldn’t have had it any other way. We would
dishonor his memory if we didn’t open it.”

I did not repeat my general manager’s comment
that Danny has a good shot at a posthumous Tony
Award for Best Director, as too much of that kind of
talk can be a jinx.
“The show must go on. That’s good to hear.”
I sensed motion behind me as Patti rose from
the table and walked over.
“Gus, I’m calling it a night. Is that okay?”
I stood.
“Do you want me to call a car for you?”
“There are plenty of cabs. I’ll be okay. Finish
your talk.”
She forced a smile.
“Make sure you go straight home and get some
sleep. Meet me at the theater tomorrow evening at
seven thirty for the full dress . . . rehearsal.”
I added the word “rehearsal” for Eason’s sake, knowing that theatrical shorthand might confuse a civilian; and anyone who says “The show must go on” is nothing if not a civilian.
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the theater. Both of you have yourselves a good night,” she said.
Eason remained seated and said, “Good night.”
I sat back down as Patti made her way out of the saloon.
“Sorry for the interruption.”
“That fine. So listen, I want to tell you two things – first, murder is not my forte. In my experience – and I used to be a cop don’t forget – it’s best to leave murder investigations to the homicide detectives. It’s not, and I say this with all due respect, it’s not like television. I know you’re in show business. Keep in mind that a homicide investigation is very serious stuff.”
“I am keeping that in mind, believe me. I’ve offered a hundred thousand dollar reward for information that leads to Danny’s killer being caught. I would say that displays some degree of seriousness, wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely. Look that came out wrong. It’s not you. It’s me. I’m good at tracking down leaks or uncovering dirt -- sexual affairs and stuff like that. Sure. I work at a very high level and that’s why I have a reputation. But the truth is, it is garden variety cheating of one sort or another that pays my way. That’s it. Recently I’ve branched out into financial forensics, which these days is about knowing which computer program to run, most of the time; or, in my case, knowing which young computer whiz to hire. Algorithms are beyond me. I’ve got a pretty good head for math, so I can read a spread sheet if somebody puts it in front of me. I can spot where things are adding up when they shouldn’t, or not adding up when they should. And all that said, you know somebody looking for proof of a wayward spouse, I’m still your go to guy. I’m good at catching lovers. Murder, though – I leave that to the professionals. I don’t want to catch a murderer. Murderers kill people.”
“Yes they do. And one of them killed my director.”
“And I appreciate you thinking of me to help you with that, but I’m not your man. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
“Well thanks, Joe. I appreciate the candor. You’re still tops in my book. I’m not going to ask you about your conflict of interest.”
“Truth is, I just got released from that obligation a few minutes ago. But I still don’t feel comfortable talking about it. If the client wants to reveal his or her intention, that’s another story.”
“A few minutes ago? Elaine isn’t your client, is she?”
I tried to mask my shock as best as possible.
Joe winked.
“You should ask her that.”
He rose from his chair and said, “Thanks for your time, and thanks again for thinking of me.”
I stood and we shook hands.
“Don’t forget. You ever want me to make a small bet on one your shows, just say the word.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I did not say that there are no small bets on Broadway, not anymore. I did not say that small bets these days are mid-five to six figures long. He left and I went back to my table. The waiter appeared and asked if I wanted some oysters. I declined and asked for the check and mulled over this new revelation while waiting for my tab.
What purpose could it possibly serve for Elaine to have me investigated?