"Stay here.'' I stood. "See if you can get a bowl of smoked almonds.'' I went out to a house phone and called the suite, but Bellarosa's line was busy. I had no intention of presenting Ms. Alvarez's offer to him, but I wanted to see if he was still in. I went back to the Oak Bar, sat, and informed Ms. Alvarez, "He says no. And no means no.'' She had gotten the smoked almonds and I took a handful.

"Then how about you?'' she asked. "Will you go on the air?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I take off the red dress."

"Before or after I go on the air?"

She looked at her watch. "Before.'' She added, "Fuck me, but don't screw me."

We both smiled. Well, dreams do come true if you let them. But this one looked like trouble. I stood. "Sorry. I can't live up to my end of the deal. But it's been fun.'' I left her with the tab.

In the lobby, I checked for messages, and there were a few from TV, press, and radio people. Most criminal attorneys would parlay this opportunity into fame and fortune. But mob attorneys such as Jack Weinstein and John Sutter had to satisfy themselves with "No comment'' and tainted money that could be seized under the RICO Act. Hey, who said this was going to be good for my career?

Anyway, I turned toward the lobby doors, intending to take the walk I had intended to take before, but once again I was waylaid by Jenny Alvarez. She said, "Let me ask you a question. A personal question, off the record."

"I like the regular missionary position, but I'm open to anything."

"What I want to know is, why did you get involved with Frank Bellarosa?"

"It's a long story. Truly it is."

"I mean, I saw your estate out there on Long Island. My God, I didn't think people still lived like that."

"I live in the guesthouse on the estate. You got that wrong on TV. And what difference does it make where I live?"

"It makes all the difference. We're talking TV, John. Entertainment. You're a star. You look like a star. You act like a star. You're well dressed, you carry yourself well, and you speak extremely well. You're a class act."

"Thank you."

"Even if you did stick me with the tab."

"That's the classiest thing I've done all week. Look ... Jenny, you're very attractive, and I'd like to take you upstairs, but I think you're giving me a line of bull because you want something from me, and it's not sex. And I can't deliver, not sex or information. I'm a faithful husband, plus I'm impotent and simpleminded. So-"

"What's the matter?"

Coming from the direction of the Oak Bar, staring at me, were Lenny and Vinnie. I guess they had seen me in the bar and wondered why I was having a drink with a TV reporter. Jenny Alvarez's face is well-known in New York, and even cretins like Lenny and Vinnie watch the news. Anyway, Cretin One and Cretin Two were making stupid movements with their heads, indicating they wanted me to join them.

Ms. Alvarez inquired, "Who are those men?"

"Those are my law clerks.'' Well, the best way to cover myself, of course, was to make it clear to Lenny and Vinnie that my intentions in speaking to Ms. Alvarez were sexual and not traitorous. How's that for a rationalization? So, I put my arm around her and led her to the elevators. I said, "Let's have a drink in my room."

"All right."

Lenny and Vinnie got on the elevator with us. As we rode up, I said to my pals, "This is Jenny Alvarez. She's a famous TV reporter."

They glanced at each other. Vinnie asked, "The don want to see her?"

"No, I want to see her. Alone, and I don't want to be bothered."

They both smirked, leered, and drooled. Class acts.

We got out on the eighth floor. Lenny unlocked the door to the suite, and we all entered. Bellarosa was lying on the couch, watching TV with his shoes off.

Jenny Alvarez went right up to him and introduced herself as he stood. Bellarosa said, "Oh, yeah. You're the lady who gave this guy here a hard time. You friends now?"

She smiled. "Yes, we are."

Well, the next thing, of course, was that she was going to start hammering poor Frank for an interview. Right? Wrong. She turned out to be the class act of the evening. She said, "John invited me in for a drink. I hope I'm not intruding on business."

Bellarosa replied, "Nah. We're on vacation."

I said to Ms. Alvarez, "Let's go to my room.'' I snagged a bottle of scotch and a bucket of ice from the bar, and she took two glasses and a bottle of soda.

I showed her to my room, but as I began to follow her in, Bellarosa tapped me on the shoulder. He closed the door to my room and said to me, "You couldn't get yourself a house whore? You have to bring this TV broad up here?"

I replied tersely, "It's my business who I spend my free time with. But to set the record straight, my relationship with that woman is and will remain platonic."

Bellarosa glanced at the scotch and ice bucket in my hands and smiled. I guess that did seem like a pretty idiotic statement from one man of the world to another. However, I added, "And it's not a business relationship either."

"Yeah? So no pillow talk. Okay? Watch what you say to her. Understand?"

I stepped toward the door, but he didn't move aside. Instead, he said, "What's on your mind, Counselor? What's bugging you?"

"If you spoke to my wife tonight, and I assume you did, then you know."

He stayed silent a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I spoke to her. But you got that all wrong. That's a bad thing to be thinking about. That's a very dangerous thing, when a guy gets something like that in his head. I've seen that kind of thing get people hurt and killed. So you just put that out of your head.'' He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a shake. "Okay?"

So I guess I was outvoted, two to one, on the question of a sexual triangle. I said, "All right, Frank. Subject closed. Open the door for me."

He opened my bedroom door, and carrying the ice bucket and scotch, I went inside and kicked the door shut, then put the scotch and bucket on a cocktail table.

Jenny Alvarez said, "Are you sure I'm not interrupting business?"

"I'm sure. Make yourself comfortable. Have a seat."

We sat in the two facing club chairs in the corner with the drinks on the cocktail table between us.

As I put ice in our glasses, I noticed that my hand was a little unsteady. Confronting one's wife with an accusation of adultery was a little tense, but confronting the other man, especially when the guy was a killer, was not one of life's better moments. But I felt strangely at peace, as if I'd gotten rid of a great burden and put it on the people who'd stuck me with it in the first place. I mean, if you analyzed it with cold logic, it really wasn't my problem unless I chose to make it so. Still, I knew that the cold logic would eventually give way to more basic feelings such as heartache, pain, betrayal, jealousy, and other standard marital miseries. But tonight, I felt on top of things, and I had a drinking companion.

Jenny Alvarez said, "Nice suite. Crime pays."

I replied, "Thanks for laying off Bellarosa."

"I came up here to have a drink with you."

"Right.'' Cynic though I am, I believed her, and it felt good to believe what someone said for a change. I mixed us scotch and sodas, and we touched glasses and drank. I have to be honest with you; I was nervous. I said, "Don't you have to be on the air or something?"

"You're my only assignment tonight. But since you're not going on the air, neither am I. But I'll call in later.'' She added, "Late enough so they can't get me on something else before airtime. So I'm free tonight. Feels good."

Well, I mean, she rearranged her whole schedule, you know, so she could have a drink with me. So what was I supposed to do? Kick her out after one drink? Get room service to deliver a Monopoly game? I cleared my throat. "I'm very flattered."

She smiled. Oh, those lips. I have to tell you, I'm not usually into Latin beauties, but this woman was absolutely gorgeous. She had a soft brown complexion, dark eyes that sparkled, and thick black hair that cascaded over her shoulders. When she smiled, she had dimpled cheeks that I wanted to pinch.

She said, "You're separated, I understand."

"I hadn't heard that."

"Well, I did."

"From whom?"

"People out where you live."

"Is that a fact? I didn't even know that."

She smiled. "Most men would just say yes to that question under these circumstances."

"I'm not most men. I'm into truth. Are you married?"

"I was. I had a baby on TV. Remember? Two years ago."

I seemed to recall some mawkish and tasteless coverage of the progress of her pregnancy and final delivery. But I don't watch much TV news, and until now I didn't even realize that this was the same woman. I replied, "I do remember that. TV cameras in the delivery room. Sort of vulgar."

She shrugged. "Not for television."

"I also seem to recall a proud father."

"I'm divorced now."

"So no more babies on television."

She smiled. "Not for a while."

We chatted a bit, but I watched my consumption of scotch, in the event I had to rise to the occasion. I can't do it when I'm loaded, which is frustrating because that's usually when I want to do it the most. Alcohol is a cruel drug.

I said, "Look, I asked you up here to cover myself with those two goons. Understand?"

"I think so. Do you want me to fake orgasmic noises, then leave?"

"Well ... no. I enjoy your company. But ... I just wanted you to know why I invited you here."

"So now I know. Do you know why I accepted the invitation?"

"You find me interesting."

"That's right. Very interesting. Intriguing. You intrigue me."

"Well, that's good news. You may not believe this, but I used to be dull."

"That's not possible.'' She smiled. "When was that?"

"Oh, back in March, April. I was really dull. That's why my wife left me."

"You said you didn't know anything about that."

"Well, I haven't been home in a few days. Maybe I should call my answering service."

But I didn't. We talked about this and that, bantered and teased, but we never talked about Frank Bellarosa. However, it occurred to me that there was more than one way to put a knife into his heart. I mean, I could use this woman as a conduit to the news media. I could remain anonymous, and she would vouch for the reliability of her source. I could feed the media all sorts of things that could put Frank Bellarosa into jail or into the grave. And that would take me off the hook for the perjured alibi, and Bellarosa would be out of my life. I mention this because it did cross my mind. I guess I had been hanging around Bellarosa too long. But I was determined not to let my life become obsessed with vendetta the way his was. Whatever he had done to me, he had to live with it, and perhaps one day, he would answer for it. Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord. Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord. So I dismissed my thoughts of revenge (for the moment) and got back to the business at hand. I said to Jenny Alvarez, "There's no payoff, you know. I mean, even if you spend the night, I'm not telling you anything." So I dismissed my thoughts of revenge (for the moment) and got back to the business at hand. I said to Jenny Alvarez, "There's no payoff, you know. I mean, even if you spend the night, I'm not telling you anything."

"I told you I'm here because I want to be with you. I don't really give sex for stories and you don't really proposition women who need something from you. That was a game downstairs."

"And it's another game up here. And I'm out of practice."

"You're doing fine. I'm still interested. By the way, did you see yourself on TV?"

"Sure did."

"Your hair was messy."

"I know. And my tie looked the wrong color, but it wasn't. I can show you the tie."

"Oh, I believe you. That happens on TV sometimes."

The phone rang, but I didn't answer it. Jenny made a call to her studio and told them she was through for the night. I had a club soda, and she had another scotch. We both kicked our shoes off at some point. There was a TV in the bedroom and we watched her news show at eleven. The Bellarosa story got a minute, mostly reports about the published stories in the newspapers, including my press statements. Ferragamo, who was good at the ten-second sound bite, said, "We are investigating Mr. Bellarosa's alibi for the day in question, and if we find evidence that contradicts that alibi, we will ask that bail be rescinded, and we will take Mr. Bellarosa into custody again, and we will consider action against the individual who supplied the alibi."

Ten seconds on the head. The man was a pro.

Ms. Alvarez inquired, "He means you, doesn't he?"

I replied, "I think so."

"What sort of action? What can they do to you?"

"Nothing. I was telling the truth."

"So the five other witnesses were lying? No, don't answer. No business. It's a habit. Sorry.'' She seemed lost in thought, then blurted out, "But it just doesn't make sense sense, John."

"Does it make sense that Frank Bellarosa would commit murder in broad daylight?"

"No, but ... you're sure you saw him?"

"Is this on the record?"

"No, off the record."

"Okay ... I'm positive it was him."