of them could have done something like this without involving the other one.”
Tooley shook his head.
“Hal, man, I’ve followed this case for you for decades. I’ve never seen a word that implicates Paul. And it’s a ridiculous time to make the charge. After twenty-five years, you suddenly pipe up, blaming him for his brother’s crime, just when Paul is odds-on to become mayor, and you’re the biggest donor to the other party?”
Hal considered all of this with a sour expression, his eyes skittering about behind his thick lenses like cornered mice.
“The guy pisses me off.”
Evon was in no position yet to fully comprehend the web of family resentments at play here. But at least one part of Hal’s fury was understandable. Dita’s murder had ended his father’s political career. Zeus had abandoned his campaign for governor within days of his daughter’s death. And here was Paul, scaling Mount Olympus, with the papers already saying that if he won, the governor’s office was likely to be next.
“I always thought he had something to do with it,” Hal said. “My parents would never hear that, neither one of them. My father kept telling us, ‘This is as big a tragedy for the Gianises as it is for us,’ and my mother, especially after my dad died, she just hated discussing the entire thing. And I kept quiet for their sakes. But they’re gone now and I’m speaking my mind. I think I’m actually going to run ads.” Hal nodded decisively. Evon was beginning to recognize that none of Hal’s remarks, here or back in the corridor, were completely spontaneous. He had been considering making a scene, and the potential aftermath, when he’d arrived today.
“That’ll only force him into court,” Tooley said. “You go that route, big fella, you gotta have some proof.”
“Evon will find the evidence.”
“Me?” She couldn’t contain herself. But she had spent three years now extracting Hal from the holes he blundered into.
“Call Tim,” Hal said.
“Tim?” asked Evon. Hal was referring to the PI he’d had tailing Corus Dykstra from YourHouse the day before.
“Tim knows all about this case,” said Hal. “He never thought we had the whole story. I bet he already has plenty of dope on Paul.”
They had reached the ZP Building, and Hal, who had a conference call on the YourHouse acquisition, hopped out so he could get upstairs to his office on the fortieth floor. But he stuck his head back into the car for one second to hand over a slip of paper.
“That’s Tim’s cell. Find him. He’ll help.”
3.
Horgan—January 10, 2008
R aymond Horgan’s generosity had been a fair wind at Paul Gianis’s back throughout his career. Stan Sennett, Ray’s former chief deputy, who was Paul’s second cousin, had gotten Paul his first interview with Ray in 1982, and they had clicked from the start. After Dita’s murder, Ray had held Paul’s job offer open while Paul worked with Sandy Stern on his brother’s defense, and that didn’t change even after Cass pled. Ray said he’d always taught his deputies to ask of any decision, ‘Would you think you were being fair, if the defendant was your brother?’ He doubted Paul would ever need that reminder.
In 1986, Ray lost the primary to his former deputy, Nico Della Guardia, and Paul left soon after to become a plaintiff’s lawyer. Even out of office, however, Ray continued to be a leading figure in the Democratic Farmers & Union Party. Horgan had helped guide Paul when he decided to turn to politics a decade ago, after two huge tort judgments, especially the tobacco litigation, basically made work a pastime for him. It was Ray who’d first introduced Paul to local labor leaders, and Ray who, four years ago, twisted the last two arms to secure the votes Paul needed as a reform candidate to become majority leader in the senate. Now Ray was general counsel to Paul’s mayoral campaign.
“Not mere falsity. But reckless disregard for the truth,” said
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Mary Oliver, Brooks Atkinson