Robert K. Tanenbaum - Falsely Accused

Marlene waited a couple of days, until Karp was more or less over the snit he had got into over the Lanin affair, and they were comfortably settled in the marriage bed, before she sprang it on him. He laughed and said, Yeah, right! before it struck him that she was not laughing along.

Youre not serious? he asked.

Yeah, Im serious. I think its a good idea.

Its the worst idea you ever had, Marlene, said Karp, and thats a tough league.

Why? Why is it such a bad idea?

He sighed. Babe, private investigators are high school graduates. You went to Yale Law. You were on law review. You have a mind. I cant believe youre actually thinking of spending your life following sleazes around with a camera.

Youre not listening to me, said Marlene in a controlled voice. Listen to what I said. I want to start a service that specializes in helping women who are being harassed, and thatd include legal rep as well as straight P.I. Im not talking about tort or divorce work.

Karp shifted in bed and gave her a searching look.

When you say P.I. work, you mean stuff like what gave you that face?

Not necessarily.

No? Then what? What are you going to do within a legal framework that the cops cant do a whole lot better?

The cops do hardly anything, and you know it, she retorted. Enforcing protective orders is down below littering on their priority list. As for what Im going to do, Im going to do whatever it takes.

You and Harry Bello are going to do this?

Yeah. He likes the idea. Hes going to hand in his tin this week.

Oh, terrific! Marlene, hes a psychopath.

Hes not a psychopath! How can you say that? Hes your daughters godfather.

Karp tried another tack. And the two of you think you can make a living from this?

What living? Harrys got his pension, and as far as I know, we certainly dont have any money problems. Why, is Daddy going to cut me off without a penny if I do this?

Oh, of course not, Marlene, said Karp, starting to feel trapped. But God, with just the pair of you I mean, its going to be an all-hours thing. What about Lucy?

What about her? We seemed to do okay when we were both at the D.A. working crazy hours and she was a lot younger and needed more attention.

And the new baby ?

Ill deal with that when it happens, she snapped, and then, in a more even tone, Look, this isnt about money or domestic arrangements. If I had a job with a firm or a prosecutors office, youd be buying champagne. So what is it?

Oh, for crying out loud, Marlene, look in the mirror!

What, I got hurt? Jeez, Butch, so I got hurt. Ive been hurt worse. I thought we had a deal on that.

Karp paused before answering, trying for a locution that wouldnt send this discussion off into a raging fight. Still, he could not keep a trace of bitterness from his voice.

What deal was that, Marlene? The one where you get to do all the irresponsible stuff and I get to eat my heart out?

Marlene looked at him soberly and nodded, twice. Yes, I understand that its hard for you. But, look, Butchright after we started going together, I got myself blown up by a bomb. A year later, more or less, I got myself kidnapped and tortured by a gang of satanists. That was before we got married. You must have had a hint, at least, that I wasnt going to be like your mom.

Karp did not respond to this verbally. Instead he riffled the pages of the law book he had been reading when this conversation began, and arranged his face in the mulish, tight-jawed expression that he adopted when Marlene was pressing him to come clean with some negative thought.

Well? she said, after a minute of strained silence. Is that what it is? The danger business?

No, Karp admitted. Not that that doesnt suck too, but no.

What, then? Christ, Butch, come out with it!

It came, in a rush. All right. What youre doing, what youre planning, its not just going to be P.I. work. Its going to be more of the kind of thing you pulled with Pruitt

Not necess

Let me finish! When it comes down to a case of letting the law take its course, or making sure that some woman doesnt get hurt, I know what youre going to do and so do you. Its going to involve taking out the male party, Marlene. And some of these guys are persistent. So maybe in the back of your mind, theres a thought about making it permanent. In some cases. Id bet my next three paychecks that stuff like that would not faze Harry one little bit. And its wrong. Dont you think I know the laws fucked up in the domestic area? Jesus, Marlene, I was a homicide prosecutor for twelve years! There are probably five domestic homicides for every crime-connected murder. But if you want to change that, do it right! Run for office, lobby Albany, be a legal counsel at one of those shelters, anything, but dont do this, what youre thinking about. Because as sure as my ass is on this mattress, youre going to get in trouble, not little trouble, but big trouble, disbarment trouble, Class A felony trouble. And the worst thing is, while youre getting in this trouble, you cant talk about it with me. We cant beI dont knowtogether in the way I want us to be, because I cant know about that kind of shit. You understand what Im saying? I cant know about it.

Why? Because youll turn me in? She asked this lightly, not at all liking how this conversation was turning out, but Karp answered with grim seriousness.

Yes, he said, grimly. In a heartbeat. Christ, Marlene, you know the damn law on conspiracy and accessory to felony. You got away with this goddamn Lanin deal because Harrys a cop and he covered for you, but if hes private, he wont be able to do that.

Butch, this is a ridiculous conversation. You sound like Im planning to set up Murder Incorporated. Its a security and investigation service.

Is it? he asked coldly. Fine, then. I beg your pardon. Just so you know that there is no way in hell that our childexcuse me, our childrenare ever going to end up with both their parents in jail. Karp let a long breath out through his nostrils and propped his book up on his chest and started to pretend to read it. Marlene stared at him for a while and then plumped her pillows and got out a magazine. For a long time, until they switched off their lights, the only sound was the turning of pages.

Stupenagels article about Marlenes work on behalf of Carrie Lanin was published two weeks later in the Village Voice. It was a good piece, Marlene thought, almost good enough to make her not hate the reporter for publishing a photograph of what Pruitt had done to her face. Marlene had not been the only interview: Stupe had broadened the article to cover the whole phenomenon of women being stalked in New York, and seemed to have ferreted out anyone in the greater metropolitan area who had ever thought seriously about violence against women resulting from that peculiar obsession.

Marlene read the article twice, underlining here and there and making marginal notes. Then she called Stupenagel.

You total shit, she said when the reporter picked up the phone.

Marlene! You saw the article?

Of course I saw it, you jerk! How could you do that to me? Oh, crap! Why do I even ask?

Whats wrong? I thought you came out of it very well, said Stupenagel. They even put a sidebar in there describing your colorful past.

Whats wrong is that Im going to have to carry this face to my moms house on Sunday, and its improved enough to give me a shot at passing it off with a white lie about a car wreck, which you have rendered impossible by printing that picture and dwelling on how it happened.

Yeah, but how did you like the piece? said Ariadne.

Marlene bit back a ferocious response. There was as much point in getting angry with Ariadne for the wreckage she occasionally left in her wake as it would be to get miffed at a typhoon; the woman was as insensitive as a tropical low.