Chapter Forty-Nine
Forty-nine
Edward Piro picked up after two rings. And while he cleared his throat extensively before saying hello, he sounded neither sleepy nor confused.
“Mr. Piro,” I said as he continued to cough. “My name is Sunny Randall. I hope you don’t mind my calling so late. I need to speak to you about your son.”
He didn’t reply right away. He coughed some more. A barking that faded to a wheeze. It hurt me just listening to it. “Are you okay?” I said.
“Sorry,” he said. “Touch of bronchitis. Happens to me every summer. That damn pollen.”
I exhaled. “Okay.”
“What the hell did Teddy do now?”
“I’m hoping you might be able to give me some insight.”
“Has he been driving my car again?”
“What?”
He said it again very loudly, as though we had a bad connection. “My car. The black Porsche convertible. Has Teddy been driving it?”
“Yes,” I said. “He’s been driving it.”
He coughed some more. “I’m aware of the speeding tickets, ma’am. And the lapsed insurance. He was supposed to pay that. I put him in charge. Was he driving intoxicated again? Do I need to pick him up?”
I swallowed.
“Officer? You still there?”
“I’m…I’m not a police officer,” I said. “I’m a private investigator. And I’m not calling about speeding tickets.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said. “You have no idea the gray hairs that kid has given me. The expense. The embarrassment. You’d think he’d cool his jets once he hit thirty, but no.
Three years past the big three-oh, and he’s worse than ever…
” He started to cough again. I waited for it to subside.
“I had him too late,” Piro said. “You know his mother is the same age as my next youngest kid? I don’t know what I was thinking.
Rayanne and I were married just long enough to bring Edward Jr. into the world.
Then she skipped town and left me, a man in my sixties, with a colicky, moody, pain-in-the-ass baby.
I don’t know how many nannies I went through with that kid.
I should have quit the whole parenting business when I was ahead. ”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I hadn’t expected Mr. Piro to be awake, let alone this talkative. He had to be very lonely, I decided. I pressed on. “Sir, your son, Teddy, may have something to do with the murder of Leila Donnelly.”
“Oh…”
“I don’t know if you’ve seen anything about it in the news, but—”
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“His car,” I said. “Your car was seen at the crime scene at the time of the killing.”
“It…It was?” he said. “Oh, God. Teddy wouldn’t…But…I don’t know him. Not the way a father should. He gets crazy sometimes.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I should have gotten help for him…A shrink. I didn’t…It’s my fault he’s so messed up. I was a terrible father.”
“Don’t feel bad, Mr. Piro. Please.”
“Did he kill her?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He could have lent the car to someone. He could have been pressured into taking part in something he didn’t want to do. I don’t know Teddy. All I know is that a woman is dead, and my dear friend is in jail for this murder. I just want to help her clear her name. Okay?”
He didn’t respond for a very long time. I waited, listening to his soft, persistent coughing. Hoping he would speak. “I…I have some papers. They might be helpful. Also some things that I found in the car this morning. I think they may have been Lee’s.”
“Leila,” I said quietly. “That was her name.”
“I know,” he said. “But Teddy called her Lee.”
My mouth dropped open.
“My son needs help. I’m too old to keep him under control. I don’t know…” He started coughing again. “He may have to be locked up. For his own good. You know?”
“Can you help me, Mr. Piro?”
“I can send you the things I have.”
“Can I come to your place tomorrow morning? I can pick them up. We can talk a bit if you’re up to it. I just have a few questions.”
He cleared his throat and launched into another coughing fit. I waited for it to subside. “Sure,” he said. “Come tomorrow. I’ll give the doorman your name.”