Part 4 (1/2)
”An anonymous informant?”
”A woman. It was enough to get a warrant.”
Stefanos tapped ash off his smoke. ”Sounds open-and-shut to me.”
”Weston's got an alibi. He was with his girlfriend that night. She's not cooperating, but I believe him. He doesn't look like a killer. It's his eyes - and after a while, you just know.”
”Does it make a difference to you if he's guilty or innocent?”
”No. I defend them all the same way, Nick. I thought it might make a difference to you.”
Stefanos. .h.i.t his smoke. ”What else makes you think Weston's telling the truth? Besides, you know, his eyes.”
”Around the time of the murder, a kid who works in one of those neighborhood Chinese grease pits, place called Hunan Delite, says he was closing up his parents' shop, heard shots and tires screeching on the road, then saw an old vehicle speeding past on Kennedy.”
”What kind of an old vehicle?”
Elaine peered inside the folder. ”A red Tempo, I think. No, here it is... a red Ford Torino.”
”What's Weston drive?”
”A Legend.”
”Color?”
”Red.”
”Even if you find the driver of the Torino, and even if he has something to do with the crime, the prosecutors will bring up the sameness of color in court.”
”You're talking about two cars with over twenty years' difference in terms of style.”
”Maybe.” Stefanos looked around the cafeteria. ”But I'm not interested.”
”You're interested. I can see it -”
”In my eyes?”
”Thought you might want to pick this one up, see what you can do with it.”
”I told you the first time you hired me -”
”I know. You no longer get involved in, how did you put it, 'murder gigs or other kinds of violent s.h.i.+t.'”
”I said that?”
”Something like it.”
Stefanos dragged on the filter of his Camel. ”Get that big Indian you use. n.o.body f.u.c.ks with that guy.”
”He's busy on another case.”
”What about Joey A.?”
”Joe A.'s tied up, too.” Elaine pushed the folder across the table until it touched Stefanos's hand. ”Look, I need your help, Nick. I've got another one of these files in my office. Take this one with you, okay?”
”I don't think so.” Stefanos moved his hand and dropped his cigarette into the half inch of coffee left in the cup.
”Right. Let's put that aside for now, then, and s.h.i.+ft gears.”
”What, you've got something else?”
”Well, yes.”
”Go ahead.”
”I mentioned that I was working with you to my husband last night. Marcus said he thought you might know his friend Dimitri Karras. You remember Dimitri, don't you?”
”Sure. I haven't seen him for over ten years. But I was just thinking about him on the way over here. The Post Post ran their quarterly Pizza Parlor Murders piece in this morning's paper.” ran their quarterly Pizza Parlor Murders piece in this morning's paper.”
”Dimitri's been in a real bad way.”
Stefanos nodded, drew a fresh cigarette from the pack, tamped it on the table. He rolled the cigarette between his fingers.
”There can't be anything worse than to lose a child, Nick.”
”Wasn't he with your husband in those record stores?”
”Yes. Marcus cashed out ten years ago, went back to school and got his M.B.A. In the meantime, Dimitri met his future wife, Lisa, in rehab. Dimitri and Lisa got married and had a child straight away. Marcus and a friend named Clarence Tate created a retail consulting business designed to help African American startups and brought Dimitri in as a partner, despite the fact that Dimitri's -”
”Greek Like Me?”
”Dimitri was always good with people, so that didn't seem to matter all that much when all was said and done.” Elaine spread her hands out on the table. ”But when Jimmy was killed, he pretty much fell apart. After a year or so, Marcus and Clarence couldn't carry him anymore. And Dimitri didn't want them to. It just didn't work out.”
”What about Karras and his wife?” ”They didn't make it. She's still at their old house, pretty much a shut-in. He's living in an apartment on U at Fifteenth, still making do on what's left of his inheritance.”
”Marcus feels guilty.”
”Yes. He feels like, if Dimitri can get himself into a work environment - get around people again, every day - he can start that healing process he needs. It would be like, you know, placing him with some kind of family.”
Stefanos cleared his throat and slid the unlit cigarette back in its pack. ”I'll ask around. If I hear of any job openings around town I'll let you know.”
”I was thinking of that place you work.”
”The Spot? Elaine, you ever seen the place? It's just a s.h.i.+tty little bar in Southeast.”
”They serve food, don't they?”