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“Got lucky?” Eve suggested. “Baxter, wait for me downstairs.”
“Sure.”
“Rod’s done nothing but be careless about an appointment,” Alex began.
“Stow it. Who was your driver yesterday?”
Biting and cold replaced polite and neutral. “And that’s relevant because?”
“Because I want to know, Mr. Cooperation. Who drove you to your meet with Roarke?”
“Carmine. Carmine Luca,” he added when Eve simply stared. “He’s downstairs, in an apartment I keep as staff quarters.”
“Bring him up.”
“I don’t understand why you want to interview my driver.”
“You’ll understand after I do. Bring him up, or call your lawyers and tell them to meet you downtown.”
Eyes, already cool, went to ice. “Maybe I misjudged the situation. I’ll bring him up, and we’ll see if you make me understand. Otherwise, unless you’ve got a warrant, you’re gone.”
Alex pulled out a ’link as he pointed Eve toward the door. “Carmine, I need you up here.”
Within minutes, the big, burly Carmine lumbered in. He had, Eve thought, a face like stone that had been battered for decades by wind and water. Tough, pitted, and blank.
“These officers would like to ask you some questions, Carmine. Answer them, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ricker.”
“When did Rod Sandy ask you about Mr. Ricker’s meeting with Roarke?”
“I don’t know about any meeting.”
Eve looked at Alex. “Would you like to make it clearer, or should I?”
“Carmine, I want you to answer the lieutenant’s questions. I had a meeting with Roarke yesterday morning, on Coney Island. You drove me.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ricker, but I thought—”
“Don’t think,” Alex said, with a kindness in his tone Eve hadn’t expected. “I appreciate it, Carmine, but we’re just trying to clear something up. So you can answer the questions. Unless I say otherwise. All right?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ricker.”
“When did Rod Sandy ask you about Mr. Ricker’s meeting with Roarke.”
“Which time?”
“All the times.”
“Okay, well, he asked me about it before. Making sure and all that everything was set up. Mr. Sandy makes sure things are set up for Mr. Ricker. So I told him how it was all go, and we had the car ready, and the scanners—” He stopped, looked at Alex.
“It’s all right.”
“And the coffee in the mini-AC. And all like that.”
“He asked you about it afterward, too?”
“He asked, after, how Mr. Ricker was feeling. You know, his state of mind and stuff. And I said how it went okay, and maybe Mr. Ricker seemed a little down on the drive back. But it went okay, and there wasn’t no trouble or nothing. I said how it seemed like Mr. Ricker and Roarke got along pretty good, and how they talked awhile. He worries about you, Mr. Ricker. It’s Mr. Sandy, so I didn’t figure it was talking out of turn or nothing.”
