Page 75 of The Happy Month
“How do you know about the rape and the semen? Were you able to get access to Vera’s autopsy?”
“Not exactly. Detective Schmidt told me about it.”
“You didn’t have access to any of the official files?”
“Only through Detective Schmidt.”
“So, indirectly.”
“That’s the best I was able to do.”
“In your investigation…” I nearly choked calling it that. “Did you run across the name Gigi?”
“No. Jesus, is this another lesbian? I blame the war, that’s why there were so many of them.”
“Oh Wally, you think the minute you leave the room women are eating pussy,” his wife said.
“That’s what I would do.”
“You haven’t eaten a pussy in decades.”
Okay—that was a happy marriage. I had one more question. I asked it so we could get out of there.
“Tell me…Wally,” I said. “Who do you think killed Vera?”
“You didn’t read the end of my book, did you?”
“No, I haven’t gotten there yet.”
“Well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
July 31-August 1, 1996
Wednesday evening/Thursday morning
We drove back down Palm Canyon looking for a place to have dinner, settling on Danny’s Hideout, which was very old-school. A small, one-story pink adobe building with a giant awning out front, it looked like it had been there since the sixties. When we walked in it was dark, the light barely on. For a moment I thought they might be closed, but then a waiter appeared and led us to a red leather booth.
It wasn’t crowded, and the people who were there were all older. Locals. A grand piano was shoved into one corner with a little sign on top that said someone named Eddie Varone would be there at seven.
Ronnie was instantly in love with the place and ordered an Absolut martini straight up with a twist.
“This is totally a martini kind of place.” He lowered his voice and asked, “Do you think any of these people are mobsters?”
I didn’t bother looking around the room before I said, “No. They’re not.” A mobster would have the good sense to leave Palm Springs in the summer.
We’d broughtCanyon Girlin with us and while Ronnie sipped his martini we read the last chapter, holding the book sideways so we could each read.
The final chapter of the book was all about a suspect Philburn was calling Mr. Fish. The man was in his early thirties at the time and already a prominent attorney. He had many notorious clients, including a few who were believed to be involved in organized crime. He spent little time in court and eschewed publicity. Detective Schmidt had learned that he knew Vera Korenko and that she’d attended several of his family functions. He could not determine whether she’d actually been invited or not.
I looked up at Ronnie and said, “He’s talking about Jack Karpinski.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well… the description of his law practice matches what his sons and his wife said. Also, Karp… Carp. A fish.”
“So, it’s really just revenge for silencing him?”
