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  “You’re getting paranoid.”

  “Yeah, but it’s my ass on the line.”

  “That’s totally unfair. Whatever happens to you, happens to this family.”

  “You’re right, sorry.”

  “Let’s step back and talk about this rationally. Okay?”

  Cory nodded and Linda said, “You told Tower to look into O’Rourke, but it wasn’t the first time you said someone could be framing you.”

  “Right, he was the third or fourth.”

  “And nothing came up on the others.”

  “Yeah, but who knows if Tower even checked into them?”

  “There has to be a file on them. You can ask to see what he came up with. For now, let’s assume he investigated them and found nothing. Tower doesn’t want to waste time. His strategy is to have you plead self-defense. Does that sound logical?”

  “I guess. But maybe O’Rourke killed Stein, and Tower is causing a diversion.”

  “By framing you?”

  “I know it sounds crazy. Forget it. I’m all screwed up.”

  “It’s okay. The O’Rourke thing is just a coincidence. Concentrate on what you’re going to say happened.”

  “You’re right. It’s key to the self-defense plea. I got just about everything down about it and want to run it by Tower.”

  “Good. I’m sure he’ll have a suggestion or two.”

  Cory took his phone out. “I’m going in the studio to call him.”

  “Ask him about getting our money back.”

  Tapping his phone, Cory said, “I will.”

  “I’m leaving to pick up Tommy. He’s got tae kwon do, and Ava’s got dance. I’ll grab pizza from Gino’s.”

  “That’s cool with me.”

  After a five-minute hold, Tower came on. “Mr. Lupinski, how are you?”

  “Okay. Say, I wanted to go over what I’m going to say happened. You have time tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Let me check my schedule.”

  Cory heard Tower tapping. “How would eleven fifteen tomorrow morning work?”

  “Good.”

  “Fine, I’ll see you then.”

  “Uh, hold on a second. My wife is really upset about the money we gave you for the transplant. We both feel we should get some kind of refund.”

  “We’ve had this discussion. The matter is closed. Now, if you have no further questions . . .”

  “I was wondering about seeing the files you have on Bonner and O’Rourke.”

  “Files?”

  “Yeah, what your investigators dug up on them. I’d like to see it.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “The information is subject to a nondisclosure agreement.”

  “But I’m the customer. Ain’t I paying for them?”

  “Technically, but it’s our firm who engages their services. I wish I could accommodate your request, but I’m simply unable to.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s a necessary arrangement to ensure we get the information we require. As you can imagine, some of it involves unconventional methods. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Tower hung up. Cory thought, there was that word again—unconventional. He took it as an admission Tower straddled the legal and illegal worlds. It made him uncomfortable, but he wanted to benefit from the lawyer’s devious methods.

  * * *

  Cory was crushing pizza boxes when Linda said, “I’m going to get Tommy ready for bed.”

  “Let me read to him.”

  “You sure? You said you had to work on that jingle for the radio commercial.”

  “I don’t want to miss any chance to spend time with him.”

  “Be my guest.”

  “Did you say something to Ava?”

  “No. Why?”

  “She was quiet eating and went straight to her room.”

  Linda said, “You’re too sensitive. She does that almost every night.”

  Cory shrugged.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Ava wants to try playing lacrosse.”

  “Lacrosse? Why?”

  “Said it would be a good sport to try and get a college scholarship with. She’s going to need equipment. It would be a good way to spend time with her.”

  “Nice idea. I’ll talk to her. Let me go read to Tommy.”

  Cory came into the family room smiling. “He really likes that new book I got him.”

  “He said he wants to be a fireman.”

  “No way. It’s too dangerous.”

  “You never told me what Tower said.”

  Cory told his wife that it didn’t look like they were going to get any money back and that Tower wouldn’t let him see the investigator’s reports. He finished with, “I’m telling you, I bet he didn’t check anybody out.”

  “You think so? Why wouldn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t believe I didn’t do it.”

  “I’m sure he saw everything they have on you. It’s a lot.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “He may have figured the best path was self-defense.”

  “For him maybe, not me. I don’t like admitting to something I didn’t do.”

  “I know, but at this point, the trial is coming up fast.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “I hate to say it, but you’ve got to do the self-defense thing.”

  “This sucks.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Look, I got to go write. Take my mind off this crap.”

  Cory picked up his Gibson. He strummed the acoustic guitar, trying to force his mind to think about the jingle he had to write. This was the second one they had him doing. He liked doing them, and the money was decent. But Cory wondered whether the radio station would give him another gig, or anyone for that matter, after he pled guilty.

  How would he provide for his family once people heard his admission? What would his family and friends think, especially Ava? She was confused and embarrassed by the jam he was in.

  Linda mentioned her interest in lacrosse. She was right; it would provide an opportunity to repair some of the damage he’d done.

  Cory visualized the weird equipment lacrosse players used to catch and throw the ball. He’d only seen the game on TV once. The memory made Cory put his guitar down. He opened his laptop and typed into the search bar.

  Looking at the results caused him to think of the larger picture. Cory knew he faced the most difficult decision to make. Nothing would ever be the same again. There was no going back.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Cory leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen. Ava was only sixteen, but she was right; there were consequences He zeroed in on the young men in their lacrosse uniforms. Their lives had been changed forever.

  Even though the Duke University players had been exonerated, the reputations of three men had been permanently tarnished by the false accusation of rape. People judged you immediately, and even if the information changed, their opinions rarely did.

  Cory knew his situation wasn’t the same; it was worse. Ava correctly assessed the repercussions; if you said you were guilty, you couldn’t take it back.

  Whether Cory did it or not, his reputation would be smeared forever. He could see the tabloids dragging him through the mud. As a former number-one recording artist, the whispering and conjecture would be off the charts.

  He wondered about Tommy. His son wouldn’t question him today. But as he grew older, Cory knew doubts would arise in Tommy’s mind. Everything going forward would be tainted by his guilty plea.

  He had to find who was behind the plot or he’d be tainted. Cory thought about pleading it was an unintentional death caused by defending himself from Stein’s attack. Tower thought it would work, and if he stayed out of prison, he could mount an effort to uncover the framing conspiracy.

  He didn’t believe Tower had taken a serious look at Bonner o
r the others. Cory thought Bonner had the biggest motive. He played it in his mind again: the piano tuner had blackmailed him, and Cory had lost it, shooting him in the leg.

  Who wouldn’t want revenge against someone who not only took your gravy train away but shot you? And then there was O’Rourke. Linda had been right; there was no proof he was involved, but O’Rourke was a gangster and Tower had either lied about it or never looked into him.

  Cory had to dig into the people he suspected, especially Bonner, but couldn’t do it himself. The only person he knew was Mr. Black. Cory was pissed he hadn’t called him earlier instead of relying on lawyers.

  He told his kids it was never too late to do something, but he knew it was. Any investigation would take weeks, and if there was something, they’d have to dig further and get the court involved.

  Maybe Tower could get the trial date pushed back. If he could get it postponed two or three months, it might be enough time. Cory didn’t want to think about the alternatives. He’d just about given up on sticking with the claim he was innocent, so that left him with pleading self-defense or running.

  Cory took his phone out. There was no time to waste. He called Mr. Black and left a message. He would see Tower in the morning. The meeting would set the course of his life.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Walking behind Tower’s assistant, Cory took a series of deep breaths. No matter how many times he’d met him and despite the fact he was paying him, Tower made him uncomfortable.

  The lawyer was on the phone and didn’t look up when they entered. The way he was talking made Cory think he was speaking in some kind of code. Nothing was specific. It was a string of nondescript words: “that thing,” “him” and “place.”

  One of the few things he remembered from his father was his continual lament that it ‘came down to who you knew.’ As he started out pursuing music as a career, Cory didn’t believe the arts were like that. But he found out getting gigs at bars and restaurants required a connection.

  Tower hung up without saying goodbye and motioned to a chair. “Sit down.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tower raised his hand over his head and smacked it on the desk. “Got you!” He scraped something off his palm into a wastebasket.

  “What was that?”

  “An ant.”

  Cory thought it was an unusual way to kill an ant. He usually pressed a finger on one. “Oh.”

  “I’m glad you came to discuss your version of events. The trial date is coming up, and you must be prepared.”

  Cory didn’t like he said you instead of we. “Well, one of the things I wanted to talk about was getting a postponement.”

  “A trial date deferral?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s unlikely the court would grant one.”

  “Why not?”

  “A variety of reasons, but there’s no need for one.”

  “I’d feel more comfortable with more time.”

  “You need to get this behind you. What are you planning to say regarding the events that led to the death of Mr. Stein?”

  “Well, I was in the downtown Brooklyn area, you know, I give guitar lessons to a couple of students who live there. Anyway, I finished teaching Juan, and on the way home I remembered needing documents Lew Stein had. He was my manager for a while, and my new manager, Mr. Baffa, said we needed tax papers he had. Do you think I should mention that Stein stole from me?”

  “The prosecution will bring it up on cross-examination.”

  “Leave it out?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Okay. I’ll say something like, I fired him because he was stealing money from me.”

  “Continue.”

  “So, I went to his house. He was surprised to see me but said to come in. I asked him why he never called me back, and he started getting in my face.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told him to calm down, that the documents he had were mine and that I needed them. He told me to fuck off. Can I curse on the stand?”

  “I would use eff off instead. What happened next?”

  “I asked for the papers again, but he started ranting that I’d ruined his career and that he wanted to kill me. I figured that would be good to say, right?”

  “It could be. Please continue.”

  “So, he’s threatening me, and I’m telling him to cool out. And that if he gives me the papers, I’d be on my way. He gets super close to me and tells me to get the eff out of his house. I can see his face, it’s all red and I’m thinking maybe I should take off; then he turns around and walks away. I’m figuring he was going to get my papers, and the next thing I know, he’s coming at me with a knife.

  “It’s a big one with a red handle and I start backing away. He lunges at me, and I skirt away from him. The blade just missed my face. I got amped up, and when he came toward me again, I kicked his arm and hit him in the wrist, making him drop the knife.

  “It was like, unreal; we both stood there looking at the knife, and I thought I better get him before he picks it up again. So, I jumped on him, and we kind of staggered toward the couch. I was on his back and just pressed his face into the couch. He was trying to get me off, and I just stayed on him until he stopped moving.

  I didn’t think he was dead, just unconscious. I wanted to get out of there. I went straight for the door and saw the knife. I didn’t want him to come after me again, so I picked it up and left the house.”

  “What did you do with the weapon?”

  “I had it in my jacket and was really nervous. I was looking for a place to dump it and saw this Chinese restaurant, Panda Express; they had one of those big green trash bins. I threw it in there and went home. What do you think?”

  “You have to be prepared to answer questions about every minute and action you took.”

  “I was going to keep it simple, just stick to what I said.”

  “They’re going to ask about everything. Who you saw on the way there and back, for example.”

  “I wasn’t paying attention. That’s the truth. I go there every week, and I couldn’t tell you who I passed on the sidewalk, unless something happened, like one time this guy on the subway was hassling people for money.”

  “I understand. You’ll need to have a time line for everything.”

  “That’s easy, because I finished my last lesson, like, three o’clock. I could say I was at Stein’s, like, fifteen minutes later. The whole thing at the house took no more than ten minutes. I was home around four fifteen p.m.”

  “You can’t waver, no matter how hard the prosecution presses.”

  “I won’t. What can I do to make it better?”

  Tower smiled. “It seems fine the way you have it.”

  “Really? Isn’t there anything I can do to make it more believable?”

  “Nothing comes to mind. Why don’t we let it sit where it is and think it over?”

  Cory left his lawyer’s office with mixed feelings. The relief he felt revealing his version of events faded as the elevator dropped. Tower hadn’t given him much feedback. The only person Cory knew who was stingier than Tower with information was Mr. Black.

  The meeting didn’t make him feel any better. It was up to him, Cory realized. He had to do what he felt was necessary. After all, it was his life on the line. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Cory palmed his phone to call Mr. Black again.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Walking toward the Flatiron District, Cory felt bad about coloring what he’d said to Linda. He was careful not to lie but gave her the impression it went well and that both he and Tower felt good about what he’d say happened.

  He wasn’t trying to mislead her. Cory just needed the space to think about it. Cory crossed Twenty-Third Street and headed into Madison Square Park, eyes on the lookout for Mr. Black.

  A dusting of snow covered the grass surrounding a large sculpture. Cory jammed his hands into his pockets and looked at the piece. It was a modern interpretat
ion of an elephant. He wondered what Tommy would say about it.

  Considering why the artist had left out ears, he saw Mr. Black approach. His jacket was unzipped, and it looked like he was wearing a tee shirt under it. Cory lifted his chin out of his coat and said, “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I got a job for you. I need you to look into a couple of people. One of them is probably the guy that’s framing me. It should be pretty easy. One of them is Bonner.”

  “Easy? Why don’t you do it?”

  “No, I meant easy for you. It was a compliment, man.”

  “Bonner and who?”

  “I got a couple of others, but one guy is Billy O’Rourke. You know him?”

  Cory wasn’t sure if Black had nodded, and said, “Plus there’s a guy that used to be in my band and—”

  “I don’t fish. From what I hear, they got witnesses placing you there.”

  “Yeah, two of them.”

  “Give me their names.”

  “The witnesses?”

  “If you’re being framed, somebody put them up to it.”

  “Thomas Rizer and Robert Ford.” Black repeated the names and walked away.

  Cory watched him leave the park. He thought about the witnesses. It made sense. The witnesses had to be in on it. Maybe they were being paid, or possibly the person running the conspiracy had something over the witnesses, forcing them to lie.

  It was something Cory never considered, and it scared him that the plan was bigger than he’d imagined. But pressing the witnesses seemed an easier way to find out who was trying to put Cory behind bars.

  A gust of wind plowed into Cory. He tucked his chin into his coat. He was freezing, but a surge of hope coursed through his body. Cory stomped his feet, took a picture of the sculpture for Tommy, and left.

  * * *

  Cory hung up. “Tower is pressing me to sign the plea agreement.”

  “So? What’s the problem?”

  “I want to give Mr. Black time to check the witnesses out.”

  “How long is that going to take?”

  “He wouldn’t say. But with Bonner he was pretty quick.”

  “That should be okay.”

  “That’s what I told Tower.”