by Blake Banner
I had to admit that was true. “Did you manage to look into Rosario’s case, by the way?”
“Yeah.” She started to pace slowly up and down the sidewalk, three steps one way, then three the other and back again, examining each step as she went. “Forensic evidence was collected, obviously by the CSI team. She was raped and they found semen. A DNA profile of the rapist was produced, but they got no matches on the database. Also, she was bludgeoned with a heavy, blunt object and then strangled. So they used RTX to get prints from her neck and throat. But the prints were poor quality.”
She stopped pacing and turned to face me.
“Aside from running the DNA profile, Harragan made no attempt to match the sample with anybody else. He didn’t take any swabs from anybody, and claimed he had no suspects. He said it was a random home invasion.”
“OK, that’s good. I think with Sue’s testimony and Pauli’s corroboration we have enough to get a DNA sample from Ed. We’ll ask nicely, but if he says no, we can get a warrant. That will at least tie him to Rosario’s murder. But what we are still lacking is a concrete connection with Sebastian.” I shook my head. “It just isn’t enough that he feels he is holding Luis back.” I spread my hands. “We know, from Frank, that Luis was doing well. His career was not in jeopardy, Sebastian was not a risk to Luis. Ed had no reason to kill him. At least, no reason that we are aware of as yet.”
She gave it some thought, then made a face. “OK, so let’s pull him in, scare the bejaysus out of him with the DNA sample, and see if he’ll tell us what that connection with Sebastian is.”
“Yeah, let’s do that. But Dehan, we are still missing something: something key and something obvious.”
She smiled. “Come on, Sensei, let’s go scare Ed.”
I stood and we started to walk back toward my car in the next street. “What’s the word on Akachukwu’s alibi, by the way?”
She rolled her eyes. “He has about five women living there. They all confirm he was at home that night, and three of them say they shared his bed.”
I snorted. “What a dawg.”
“Yeah, that’s what I call a real man. Not afraid to commit.”
I raised an eyebrow she did not see because she was looking away. “Why, Dehan, is that bitterness I hear?”
“Me? What have I got to be bitter about?”
SEVENTEEN
Eduardo Irizarry was not a happy man. He threatened us with everything from phone calls to the mayor, who, he implied, was a good friend of his golfing buddy’s brother’s cousin, to law suits against the city and us, individually; as well as appeals to friends who were, he suggested, in a position to make our lives very uncomfortable. And he really did mean, uncomfortable. He assured us of that.
We sat opposite him in interview room number three and waited for his tirade to subside.
“I am an influential man, not without connections in this city!”
I tried to look chastened and asked, “What is it, exactly, Mr. Irizarry, that you object to in our conduct of this case?”
“You are harassing and persecuting us, implying that my son was involved in theft and drugs, insinuating God knows what…!”
I sighed heavily. “I apologize, without reservation.” He looked suspicious, but I spread my hands and said, “Sometimes our job is very difficult and we are required to do things that can be very upsetting for the families of victims. However, that is no excuse for having upset you and your wife at this extremely difficult time. On my own behalf, my partner’s, and the department’s, Mr. Irizarry, I am very sorry if we have upset or inconvenienced you.”
He stared at me, grunted, and asked, “Well, what do you want?”
I sighed. “This is turning out to be a very complicated case, sir—very complicated indeed—and we would be genuinely grateful for some guidance.” I stopped and gestured at him with my open hand. “Would you care for some coffee?” I smiled. “I know you appreciate a good coffee, Mr. Irizarry. I do myself. I can get you a cup of freshly ground Colombian instead of the stuff from the machine…”
He shrugged and straightened his jacket. “Well, if you have some decent coffee…”
I looked at Dehan. “Would you mind, Carmen? The good stuff…”
She smiled at Ed, said, “Sure,” and got up and left. When she’d left, I leaned back in my chair and frowned.
“How well did you know Mick Harragan?”
The question caught him off guard and he studied my face a long time before deciding how to answer.
“I knew him.”
“Oh, I know that, Mr. Irizarry. I was just wondering how well you knew him. Was he a part of your social circle, for example?”
He gave an astonished laugh. “Hardly! I was building myself a career as a champion of the oppressed Puerto Rican and Latino section of the community in the Bronx. It would hardly have been wise to befriend an Irish cop like Mick Harragan!”
I nodded vigorously, like I agreed with him one hundred percent. “Exactly!” I said, “That is precisely what I thought you would say, and it makes perfect sense. Detective Dehan and I were the team who exposed Mick Harragan’s corruption.”
The door opened and Dehan came in with a china mug of aromatic coffee. She smiled as she set it down in front of him. “Forgive the inelegant mug. I’m sure it’s not what you are used to!”
She laughed and he dismissed her with a curt nod.
I said, “You were, then, aware of his reputation at the time, as a bent cop.”
He snorted, smelled the coffee, and sipped. “Reputation!” he said, setting down the mug again. “It was a given. We all knew it and took it for granted. You couldn’t get anything done in that neighborhood without going through Harragan. He ruled the roost.”
“Did you have to go through him to get your practice established?”
“No! Certainly not. He knew better than to try anything with me.”
I nodded. “Again, that is what I thought you would say. You have, as you say, a reputation in the neighborhood as a champion of the people, and in particular the people of the Latin-American community.”
He sipped his coffee again and seemed to enjoy it. “Naturally.”
I scratched my chin. “Which is why I was surprised when I came across this photograph.” I took it from the folder in front of me and slipped it across the table. It was the picture that Pauli had shown us, where Ed had his arm around Rosario, and Harragan was there in his barbeque clothes.
He stared at it for a long while. He started to speak several times, but each time seemed to swallow the words before he spoke them. Finally, I said, “This was before you moved, right? That is your house.”
He nodded and finally said, “I had no recollection. I don’t know why he’s there. Perhaps somebody else…”
I allowed my eyebrows to float up on my skepticism. “Matt…? Sue…?” I gave him a moment. When he looked up at me, I smiled and added, “Rosario…?”
He reached for his coffee and took a long pull. After he’d set the mug down, he said, “I don’t recall.”
Dehan gave a little cough. “Were you aware, Mr. Irizarry, that Mick Harragan was the detective in charge of investigating Rosario’s rape and murder?”
“I may have been, I don’t remember. It was a long time ago. I know that neighborhood was on his beat.”
She reached out and took his mug. She peered inside it. “You’ve practically finished. I’ll get you another one.”
He watched her leave the room with hunted, haunted eyes, aware something was wrong but not sure what. I enlightened him.
“Were you aware, Mr. Irizarry, that semen was recovered from Rosario’s body, and the lab ran a DNA test on that semen?” He went ashen. I went on. “No match was found on the database, but Harragan never took swabs from any of the people in her social circle, any of the men close to her. What do you think we will find, Mr. Irizarry, when we compare that profile with the DNA in the saliva on that mug?”
His hands were trembling and his breathin
g had become erratic. “You can’t. It doesn’t prove anything…”
“Why don’t you tell me, counselor, about your relationship with Rosario Rojas?”
Again he seemed unable to speak. Finally, he shook his head. “This interview is over. You have framed and manipulated me. You have acted in bad faith and cornered me when I was trying to cooperate. You have stolen my DNA. It will be declared inadmissible.”
He went to stand but his legs were trembling so bad he had to support himself on the table with his hands.
“You know that’s not true, Eduardo. You know that DNA is going to tie you to Rosario’s murder, and the best thing you can do is start cooperating with us right now. Tell me what happened.”
He scowled at me and for a moment he looked like his old, cantankerous self. “If you are not going to charge me, this interview is over! Any further communication with me or my family will be through my attorney!”
The door opened and Dehan came in. He barreled toward her on unsteady legs and she held the door open for him to leave. She let it swing closed after him and looked at me. I pointed.
“That is what a guilty man looks like.”
She came and rested her ass on the table, looking down at me in the chair. “But guilty of what?”
I nodded. “That is the big question.”
“The mug is on its way to the lab. The boots should be there by now…”
I raised my thumb. “Jack is eliminated as a suspect. In any case, he had no motive. Akachukwu has an alibi, but in any case had no motive. Ed looks as guilty as hell, is probably guilty of raping and murdering Rosario, but has no motive for killing Sebastian!” I stood and paced the room. “Dehan, we are looking at this the wrong way. We are looking at it the wrong way and that is why we cannot see the motive.”
“So what is the right way, Stone?”
As she said it, her cell began to ring and the first glimmering of light began to filter into my brain.
Then she said, “Angela! Hi…! He is? That is good news. Where…? We’ll be there in half an hour.” She hung up. “Moses. Edgewater Park. Prentiss Avenue. She’s there with him now.”
“Let’s go.”
It wasn’t a long drive. We took the Bruckner Expressway and merged onto the Cross Bronx, came off onto 177th St, then crossed the Pennyfield Avenue Bridge into Edgewater Park. It was late afternoon, edging toward evening by the time we got there, and the shadows of the old, gabled houses were stretched long across the warm blacktop. Prentiss Avenue was a short road by New York standards, and was populated by an odd assortment of ancient pine trees and ramshackle houses, and some new red brick constructions. Others, like the one Angela had called us to, were older, faded, with paint peeling off the clapboard facades.
I parked and we climbed out into the gathering dusk. An outside staircase climbed the side of the cream and gray building up to a faded, weather-beaten door. Dehan climbed the stairs ahead of me and rang the bell. We saw a figure indistinctly in the window for a moment, and a couple of seconds later, the door opened and Angela stood looking at us. She didn’t say anything, but stepped back to let us in.
The place had all the feel of a fisherman’s cottage. The ceiling was low and wooden, the furniture ancient and threadbare. There was an iron wood-burner in the corner, and a small, propane cooker. Moses was standing in the middle of the floor, watching us. He was big, strongly built, with big hands and big feet, and a big head on a powerful neck and shoulders.
Angela stepped nervously ahead of us and gestured at him. “Detectives, this is my husband, Moses. Mo, honey, these are Detectives Stone and Dehan. They’re going to help us.” He studied us a moment longer, then stepped forward and held out his hand to Dehan.
“Ma’am.” They shook. Then he shook my hand, too. “Sir, won’t you please sit down? We can’t offer you much in the way of refreshment, but we have coffee.”
I shook my head. “We’d be very grateful to get started on this interview, Moses.” We all sat. Before I could ask him anything, he said, “I have to tell you that I am skeptical about what you say you’re going to do. I am not inclined to trust the police.”
Dehan answered. “I understand that, Moses. I’m sure Angela has told you that I might well have had the same feelings at one time. I hope we can change your mind. You want to tell us what’s going down between you and Akachukwu Oni?”
He took a moment to think. “Ours is not such a bad neighborhood, detectives. There are others that are much worse. It was bad at one time, but over the years it has improved. There are good people and good families living there. All over the Bronx you can see this change coming.” He shook his head. “People don’t want crime anymore. People are tired of living in fear.”
Angela reached out and took his hand. He went on.
“It was maybe two weeks ago, nearly three. I was coming home from work. Me and Angela have been talking about having children, making a family. I know all the families in my neighborhood, and all the kids. And I see this man, a big man, dangerous looking. He is with a couple of his friends, sitting on his car. It was a black BMW. New. And he is selling dope to some stupid young kids who are coming up to buy it from him.”
He stopped and looked at me a long while, then turned to Dehan. “Why are the cops allowing this man to do this, in broad daylight, in the middle of the street? I approached him, and I heard him telling these kids, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, that if they wanted crack, or anything else, he could get it for them. So I told the kids to get out of there, to go home, and that I was going to tell their parents about what they were doing. And him, I told him to get the hell out of my neighborhood, or I would put him and his friends in hospital.”
Dehan made a face. “That was a very dangerous thing to do.”
“If there had been cops walking a beat there, I would not have needed to take that risk. Anyway, he told me to get lost and stay out of his way. I told him it was he and his friends who were in my way. It was they who should get lost. He took a swing at me. I was in the Marines, detectives, and I still train regularly at the dojo. He is a big man, very tough, but the Good Lord was with me and I laid him out on his back, so he couldn’t get to his feet again. His friends didn’t fancy their chances with me. They just picked him up and put him in their car. But before they drove away, he pointed at me and said, ‘I am going to come back and I am going to kill you.’ Just like that.”
I took Akachukwu’s mug shot from my wallet and showed it to him. “Is this the man?”
He nodded. “That’s him.”
“Did he say anything else to you?”
“Yes, sir. He said plenty. He said if I didn’t like what he was doing then I should take my family and leave, because he was making a claim on that territory, and in time he was going to control Hunts Point and all the territory east of the river. I told him he could do as he pleased, but not in my neighborhood.”
I glanced at Dehan. “The territory east of the river, that could include Jack’s neighborhood.”
“It could. It’s feasible.”
I turned back to Moses. “Please go on.”
“So about a few days later, we are sitting having our dinner, and there is a ring at the doorbell. I go to answer it and it is this man, and he has a gun stuck in my face. And it just flashed into my mind that it could have been Angela who opened the door. Or if God blessed us with a child, there could be a baby in that house right then. And I felt a terrible, righteous anger in that moment. I pushed the gun to one side and I hit him very hard in the face. He staggered back and fell down the stairs. May God forgive me, I prayed in that moment that the Lord should see fit to take that man’s life. But he did not. I slammed the door shut, to protect Angela. But from where he was lying there on the sidewalk, he fired twice through the door. One of the shots missed and hit the wall, the other struck my leg.
“That was when I decided I must find somewhere else to live, until such time as I can afford to get Angela out of there. It never occurre
d to me that he would go after her, too. But it seems he did. It is hard, sometimes, Detectives, to know what is the right thing to do.”
Dehan sighed. “However skeptical you are of the police, Moses, once shots were fired, he attempted to murder you, you should have reported that.”
He smiled at her. It was a sad smile. “I did, Detective. But no action was taken.”
I glanced at Dehan. “Those slugs must be on file. Call Joe, get him to run a comparison with the slugs taken from Sebastian and Luis.”
She stood, grabbed her cell, and stepped outside. Moses was watching me with humor in his eyes. When he spoke, it was without reproach, but with irony. “If I had been a young doctor, or the son of an attorney, do you think maybe the cops would have listened to me?”
I smiled back. “We are doing our best, Moses. I promise.” I frowned. “Besides, I am having some trouble here, because I can’t see any reason why Akachukwu Oni should go after Sebastian and Luis.”
Moses spread his hands, like the answer was obvious. “The visibility was bad. He thought it was me and Angela in the car.”
I nodded, then shook my head. “That’s what I thought at first, but there are a couple of problems with that. First, that might make sense at six in the evening, maybe even ten at night. But who goes at three in the morning to sit outside somebody’s house waiting for them to come home? Especially a couple like yourselves, who are not exactly party animals.”
He made a face and nodded.
I went on. “The other thing is, he knew you’d gone. He told Angela. That’s why he went to beat her up. He knew you weren’t there. So what was he doing there that night at three AM?”
EIGHTEEN
Dehan came back in, slipping her phone back in her jacket pocket. “He’s on it.”
I nodded and looked back at Moses and Angela, holding hands and watching us, waiting for us to give them a solution.
“Can you stay here?”
“This belongs to my uncle. It is not comfortable. It is not a home. But we can stay here as long as we need to.”
