Pop Goes the Weasel

Gary Soneji. Remember?”
    “Of course we remember,” said Damon. “Nobody’s retarded in this house except you.”
    “Oh, good Lord, Alex,” Nana said, “don’t they know decent people are eating breakfast?” She shook her head, rolled her eyes. “The vultures are here again. Maybe I should throw some meat scraps out the front door.”
    “You go talk to them, Jannie,” I said, and looked back at the TV. I don’t know why I was feeling so cynical, but I was. My remark quieted her down for a half second, but then she figured it was a joke. She pointed a finger at herself. “Gotcha!”
    I knew they wouldn’t go away, so I took my mug of coffee and headed toward the front door. I walked out into a beautiful fall morning, temperature probably in the low sixties.
    Leaves rustled merrily in the elm and maple trees, dappled sunshine fell on the heads of the TV crew and print journalists gathered at the edges of our front lawn.
    The vultures.
    “Don’t be absurd and ridiculous around here,” I said, and then calmly sipped my coffee as I stared at the noisy press mob. “Of course I didn’t kill Detective Patsy Hampton, or frame anyone for her murder.”
    Then I turned on my heel and walked back inside without answering a single question from any of them.
    Nana and the kids were right behind the big wooden door, listening. “That was pretty good,” Nana said, and her eyes sparkled and beamed.
    I went upstairs and got dressed for work. “Go to school. Now! ” I called back to Jannie and Damon. “Get straight A’s. Play nicely with your friends. Pay no attention to the craziness everywhere around you.”
    “Yes, Daddy!”

Chapter 76
    ON ACCOUNT OF HIS REQUEST for diplomatic immunity, we weren’t allowed to question Geoffrey Shafer about Detective Hampton’s murder or anything else. I was incredibly frustrated. We had the Weasel, and we couldn’t get to him.
    Investigators were lying in wait for me that morning at the station house, and I knew it was going to be a long and excruciating day. I was interviewed by Internal Affairs, by the city’s chief counsel, and also by Mike Kersee from the district attorney’s office.
    Pay no attention to the craziness everywhere around you , I reminded myself over and over, but my own good advice wasn’t working too well.
    Around three o’clock, the district attorney himself showed up. Ron Coleman is a tall, slender, athletic-looking man; we had worked together many times when he was coming up in the D.A.’s office. I had always found him to be conscientious, well informed, and committed to rationality and sanity. He’d never seemed very political, so it had come as a shock to almost everyone when Mayor Monroe appointed him the D.A. Monroe loves to shock people, though.
    Coleman made an announcement: “Mr. Shafer already has an attorney, and he is one of the bright stars of our galaxy. He has retained none other than Jules Halpern. Halpern’s probably the one who planted the story that you’re a suspect — which you aren’t, as far as I know.”
    I stared at Coleman. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “As far as you know? What does that mean, Ron?”
    The D.A. shrugged. “We’re probably going to go with Cathy Fitzgibbon on our side. I think she’s our best litigator. We’ll back her up with Lynda Cole and maybe Stephen Apt, who are also top-notch. That’s my take on it as of this morning.”
    I knew all three prosecutors, and they had good reputations, particularly Fitzgibbon. They were on the young side, but nonetheless tireless, smart, dedicated — a lot like Coleman himself.
    “You sound like you’re preparing for a war, Ron.”
    He nodded. “As I said, Jules Halpern is Shafer’s defense attorney. He rarely loses. In fact, I don’t know if he’s ever lost a big case like this one. He turns down all the losers, Alex.”
    I looked directly into Coleman’s dark eyes. “We have Patsy Hampton’s blood on the killer’s clothes. We have blood in the bathroom drain, and I bet we’ll have Shafer’s fingerprints somewhere in Hampton’s car before the end of the day. We may have the wire hanger he used to strangle her. Ron?”
    “Yes, Alex. I know what you’re going to say. I know your question. It’s the same one I have.”
    “Shafer has diplomatic immunity. So why bring in Jules Halpern?”
    “That’s a very good goddamn question we both came up with. I suspect Halpern’s been hired to get us to drop the charges