A Handy Death

Coughlin looked around like a trapped animal. “She — she was leaving me for Ray Neeley.”

“So instead of moving in with him, she rented another apartment next door to him? Very moral, but a bit hard to believe.”

Coughlin gave a cry, a wounded bleat. “Damn it! She was leaving me!”

“I believe you,” Ross said in the quiet of the courtroom. “And that’s when you decided to get rid of Raymond Neeley, wasn’t it?”

There was an instant buzz again, as quickly cut off. Coughlin shook his head.

“No...”

“You loved Grace Melisi, didn’t you?”

“She was Grace Coughlin...”

“But you loved her, didn’t you?”

“Yes, damn it, I loved her!”

“She’s dead now, you know.”

“I know.” Coughlin’s eyes begged for understanding. “That’s why I was trying to get some money from you, to get away, maybe to start over again some place.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t really have testified against the kid...”

“You started out to,” Ross said coldly. “Let’s move on. When did you get the idea of the swindle scheme?”

“I never had anything to do with any swindle scheme!”

“You mean it was just your wife’s idea?” Ross leaned toward him. “By the way, where did your wife meet Raymond Neeley?”

Coughlin’s jaw hardened. “In a bar. She was always meeting people in bars.”

“And you claim the swindle scheme was Neeley’s?”

“That’s right,” Coughlin said, his dark eyes reliving the past. “Grace said Neeley came up with this scheme, that it was just a business arrangement she had with Neeley, but I knew better. She said it was a chance to stick the kid and pick up some loot. She said the kid could spare the dough after signing with the Mets for all that loot. And she knew I never liked the kid, but she never knew why—” He stopped suddenly.

“And why didn’t you like the kid, as you call him?” Ross asked quietly.

Coughlin stared at him, not really seeing him, his face gathering itself into a mask of hate. He was no longer in the courtroom; his mind was back in the past completely.

“He should have been my kid, that’s why!” he said harshly.

“So you set him up—”

“The kid was nothing,” Coughlin said with a sneer. “Christ, can’t you see that?”

“You mean it was Neeley you set up?”

A crafty look came into Coughlin’s eyes. “Like I was dumb, or something! Grace and Neeley cook up this scheme, but Grace tells me they need a gun. Neeley could have gotten hold of a dozen guns if he wanted, but they wanted to stick me if anything went wrong. I knew that. But I knew where the kid’s twenty-two was; he talked about it around the Mets enough, so when I got a chance to grab it during the signing, I did. Everyone was so looped I could have walked out with the bed...” He grinned. “Smart, huh?”

“Smart,” Ross agreed. Everyone in the courtroom was holding his breath, not wishing to break the spell Coughlin was in. Coughlin looked at Ross, as if recognizing him for the first time.

“I pulled a dummy in your office that second time, didn’t I? I knew it as soon as I said it. I heard that tape your secretary was transcribing, and I said, ‘That’s Billy, isn’t it?’ or something dumb like that. Just because I heard the name ‘Marshall,’ I goofed.” He stared at Ross almost anxiously. “You caught that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Ross said softly.

“I figured you would.” There was an unaccountable touch of satisfaction in the thin man’s voice, as if to demonstrate that losing wasn’t so bad when one lost to a good opponent. “But I’ll bet you never figured out how I got Billy to go over to the Mountain Top Bar, did you?” Coughlin laughed, enjoying himself. “Simple! I knew he wasn’t Dupaul’s kid any more than he was mine. I gave Jim Marshall fifty bucks to needle Billy with that bit of news, to get him started, and then I just followed the kid. When he hit this place on Lexington, I figured he was juiced up enough, so I simply handed some barfly five bucks to give Billy a message he was wanted at the Mountain Top right away. I figured as bombed as he was, he’d never remember. And he never did.”

“And that’s how you got Neeley, eh?”

“Well, hell — he was stealing my wife, wasn’t he?” Coughlin made it sound as if he considered it an ample excuse. “And he got shot in the commission of a crime, didn’t he? If he hadn’t been trying to steal money from the kid, he’d never have gotten scratched. And that’s the truth.” He looked at Ross earnestly. “You could defend me on that basis, couldn’t you, Counselor?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ross said. “What about Jim Marshall?”

“Oh, him?”

“Yes, him,” Ross said.

“Well,” Coughlin said reasonably, “after I heard that part of the tape in your office, I could imagine what the kid was talking about. And I knew you’d get up to Glens Falls and put Marshall through the wringer, so I had to get there first to kill him, didn’t I? I knew if you leaned on him hard enough he’d break and tell you all about the fifty bucks I gave him...”

He looked up, suddenly, startled by his own words.

“But, then, I just told you, didn’t I...?”

And he started to giggle.