Fall Guy

bronze horse, slipped it into the briefcase, locked up and left. I thought I'd head home then, but I changed my mind as soon as I was outside. I headed west, stopping for a little while in the park between Horatio and Jane Street. The waterfall was running. I sat there for a few moments watching a Border collie retrieve a ball, snorting in delight each time he'd snagged it.
    After a few minutes, I headed out on the Jane Street side, turning left toward the Hotel Riverview on the comer. I still had the matchbook I'd taken from Irwin's house in my pocket. I crossed the street and looked up at the old brick building, gone to seed twice over.
    Which one of those drifters lived there? I wondered. Which one had a tiny, depressing room with a view of the mighty Hudson, just a stone's throw from Timothy O'Fallon's apartment? It might be just a coincidence that one of Parker's buddies lived here. But coincidences always gave me a funny taste in my mouth, and one way or another, I wanted to know more. I pulled out my cell phone to dial the number on the matchbook, but then I stopped and put the phone away. Whom would I have asked for when the desk clerk answered? Except for Parker, if any of the men I'd met at Irwin's had last names, it was news to me.
    I walked over to West Twelfth Street, crossing over to walk along the river, wishing Dashiell were with me to enjoy his favorite place, thinking about the question Maggie had asked me, how angry she had looked asking it. What was the ; point? I wondered now. Was the whole thing a , Way of getting at Parker, framing him for two murders, maybe three? But that made no sense. If someone was willing and able to murder three people, why not just murder Parker instead?
    Was Tim the point? That made more sense. Suppose the crimes had been planned and executed by someone he'd sent to jail, someone Who'd carried a major grudge and stewed about it for years and years. I thought about Ape walking out on the memorial. He'd been in Tim's apartment. He knew enough about Tim's life, and Parker's, to have pulled this off. The same could be said for any of the poker players, with the exception of Irwin. He could have shot Tim. All he would have had to do was to carry a step stool into the bathroom. But no matter how strong he was, no way could he have broken Elizabeth Bowles's or Dennis O'Fallon's neck without their complete cooperation and I never knew anyone that cooperative.
    But it could have been any of the others. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that any of them had been in jail. Is it possible that that was the connection to Tim? And if so, how would I find out who had been in jail, where they had been arrested and by whom? I wondered if I could get last names from Irwin. I wondered if he even knew them. If someone had three aliases, or four, or five, maybe they had another dozen they'd used before or might use again.
    I sat on a bench facing the river and thought it all through again, each event, each story, each of the men I'd met or seen. Then I took out the phone again. This time I called Brody. The answer to my question would be another first name. At least that's all he said he knew. But it might be a significant one. It might be the first name of the person who set Parker up for a fall, just possibly the first name of the person who murdered Elizabeth Bowles, Dennis O'-Fallon and Timothy O'Fallon, and while this was not, I was sure, why Tim had left this job in my hands, knowing the whole story, knowing the truth was the only way I could really protect Maggie. So once again, I had no choice. There was no way I could let go until I knew who and why. I was in it until the bitter end.

CHAPTER 28
    Brody didn't answer his cell phone and when I called the precinct, I was told he was unavailable. I walked back to West Twelfth Street, crossed the highway and headed north a block, back to Jane Street. There was an outdoor parking lot across the street from the hotel's entrance, the lot where O'Fallon's car had been parked. For a moment, I was sorry Tim's car was no longer there. But even if it were, this was a lot where the attendant parked the cars. I doubt I could have asked for the car to be parked on the north side of the lot and then have sat in it without the attendant thinking I was very peculiar. Unless, of course, I gave him an obscene tip.
    I suppose I could have done that anyway, asking him to let me sit in someone else's car. But what would he say if the person came to