Murder at Ford's Theatre - Margaret Truman [50]
“Yes. Thanks, Sydney. I have to run.”
“Of course. Stiff upper lip, Clarise. It’s probably all a mistake.”
THE MOMENT BANCROFT HUNG UP, he dialed the number on the business card Detective Klayman had given him. It took a minute for the desk sergeant to locate Klayman. When he came on the line, Bancroft said, “Ah, Detective Klayman. So glad you’re there. I just heard on the news about Jeremiah Lerner being arrested. I presume it has to do with the murder of poor Nadia.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Bancroft?”
“I feel dreadful about this, absolutely dreadful, but I know I must act responsibly. It hadn’t crossed my mind when you visited me at my home, but seeing the news report brought it all back. I knew Nadia had been seeing the Lerner boy, and I warned her against it. She looked to me as a father figure, I’m afraid, and I was perfectly happy to play that role. From what I know of Jeremiah, he’s hardly the sort of young man a decent girl like Nadia should be involved with. And I told her that—in no uncertain terms, I might add.”
“You’re sure he was seeing her.”
“Oh, yes. Quite sure.”
“I’d like to get a formal statement from you, Mr. Bancroft.”
“Happy to accommodate, although I’m sure you can appreciate how delicate this situation is for me. Jeremiah is, after all, Clarise Emerson’s son, and she happens to be not only my boss but a very dear friend as well. I trust we can keep this between us.”
“When can I meet you tomorrow?” Klayman asked.
“I’m afraid that will be impossible, unless you wish to join me on my Virgin Atlantic flight to London. But I’ll only be away a few days. Agents, producers, meetings day and night. They wish to speak to me about a one-man show I’m mounting.”
“When will you be back?”
“Saturday, if all goes well.”
Klayman hesitated before responding. Should he press to see Bancroft tonight? He wouldn’t have time until much later. He didn’t need a statement to use that night when questioning Jeremiah Lerner; knowledge that there was someone to verify Lerner’s involvement with Nadia Zarinski in the event he denied it was good enough.
“Please check in with me when you come back, Mr. Bancroft. And … do come back.”
“Of course. You’ll be the first call I make upon my return. Good night, sir. Keep up the good work.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“WHY DID YOU RUN? Why did you hit my partner?”
Rick Klayman sat with Jeremiah Lerner in an interrogation room. A uniformed officer stood in a corner, arms folded across his chest. Firearms had been left outside the room; the only weapon in the room was a hefty nightstick suspended from the officer’s belt.
Lerner slouched in the straight-back wooden chair, his coal black hair in disarray. Bruises on his left cheek and temple were turning from red to blue-green.
“Why?” Klayman repeated. “All we wanted to do was talk to you, ask you a few questions.”
“I didn’t know who you were. For all I knew, you were a couple of hit men.”
Klayman looked up at the cop in the corner, who smiled.
“Hit men? Come on, Jeremiah. That’s a dumb answer. We identified ourselves.”
“You beat me up.”
“You beat yourself up going down that ladder.”
The door opened, and Herman Hathaway motioned for Klayman to join him outside.
“What’s he saying?” Hathaway asked.
“He’s claiming police brutality. Nothing about the murder, and no questions from me about it. He made a comment when we brought him in, asked if the murder was why we came after him. I thought it was strange he thought of it.”
“You didn’t rough him up, right?”
“Right.”
“Look, Rick, this is a potential mess. The kid may be a suspect in the Zarinski murder, but now he’s here on charges of assaulting an officer and resisting arrest.”
“Which he did.”
“Yeah, I know. I saw Mo’s cheek. And we can hold him on those charges. But the murder is another thing. He’s got a senator for a father. His mother, Mrs. Emerson, called. She says there’s a lawyer on his way. He ask for a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Mo’s talking with the family, see if the daughter ever mentioned dating the Lerner kid.”
“I had a