The Murder Book

by Lissa Marie Redmond

  “I think we’ll get started.” Lewis glanced around the room, making sure everyone was ready. He’s thoughtful like that, Lauren thought bitterly to herself. Lincoln Lewis can charm the skin off a snake.

  “I want to thank all the members of the media for coming here on such short notice. My client, Samuel Schultz, wants to say a few words. When he’s done, he’ll take no questions. I’ll answer a few the best I can.”

  From the same side Lewis entered, Sam Schultz and his wife appeared in the frame. Sam kissed her cheek and stepped up to the lectern, leaving her standing off to the right in her deep-blue pantsuit, looking like a grieving widow. Lewis stepped aside for Sam but didn’t step down, just repositioned himself behind his client. To stop him from messing up, Lauren thought, twisting the edge of her bedspread between her fingers. To keep him from saying too much.

  Sam looked drawn and tired, huge bags hanging under each bloodshot eye. It looked as though he had aged ten years in the last two days. He hardly resembled the vivacious go-getter ready to step into the district attorney’s shoes she’d seen on Saturday night.

  Sam Schultz cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice breaking up, causing him to cough into his hand. He regained his composure and tried again. “Ladies and gentleman, many years ago as a rookie cop I made a horrendous and unforgivable mistake. I panicked and caused a young man to lose his life. Instead of owning up to my actions, I cowardly remained silent and made the decision to leave the police department. Over the years, I have been haunted by my actions, and inactions, that night. There has not been a day that goes by that I haven’t thought of Gabriel Mohamed and his family. After this press conference, I have arranged to turn myself in to the district attorney’s office and fully expect to be arrested and charged for my crimes.”

  He paused, and the buzz in the room rose to a crescendo as reporters started calling out questions. He glanced over to his wife, swallowed, and went on. “I’d like to apologize to Gabriel’s family, the community whose trust I betrayed, my fellow police officers, and my family. It’s too little, too late, I know. But now, today, I fully accept the consequences of my actions, whatever the people of the state of New York deem those to be.” A single tear ran down his cheek.

  “That son of a bitch,” Reese swore, almost jumping off the bed. “He’s getting ahead of it. Throwing himself on the sword. That mother—”

  “Shhhh,” Lauren admonished as Sam stepped down to stand with his wife while Lewis replaced him at the lectern.

  Bombarded with questions, Lewis waited like a second-grade teacher would with an unruly class while Sam and his wife disappeared out of view. When the crowd had sufficiently quieted down, Lewis pointed his pen at a female reporter in the front of the room.

  “Vincent Schultz has been arrested and charged with the attempted murder of Detective Lauren Riley, not once, but twice. Can you speak on how those charges might be related to Samuel’s admission in the Gabriel Mohamed case?”

  “No, I cannot. Next question.” His pen searched the room until it found a familiar face. “Ken?”

  “Samuel Schultz’s brother Richard was a Homicide detective when Gabriel Mohamed was killed. Sources within the police department are saying he was involved in a cover-up. Do you expect Richard to be charged?”

  Lauren inwardly cringed at the mention of “sources” within the police department. They’d already outed one snitch; hopefully there wasn’t another one.

  Lewis shook his head. “My client states that his brother Richard had no knowledge of his involvement with Gabriel’s death. Richard only learned of it when Vincent was arrested.”

  The reporter called Ken immediately asked a follow up: “There was no conspiracy with Richard to cover up the death of Gabriel Mohamed?”

  “No. Absolutely not. If there was anything Richard had done that had even had the slightest appearance of misconduct, the statute of limitations in New York State ran out years ago on any charges that might have been brought—”

  The room ignited with a fresh round of questions being hurled at the lawyer.

  “No charges?”

  “What about federal law? Could he be charged federally?”

  “Isn’t he guilty of civil rights violations if he tampered with an investigation?”

  Lewis motioned his hands downward in a quieting gesture, trying to regain control. “I cannot speculate what the federal government can or will do. I think that’s it for the questions, people” He squared his shoulders. “I’d like to thank you all for attending …”

  Lauren stabbed the screen with her finger, cutting off the live feed. “No charges for scumbag Richard,” she seethed. “We have to wait for the Feds to run with it, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll do a couple years in one of those country clubs they call prisons.”

  “We should have seen his coming.” Reese got up and began to pace the room. “Only murder has no statute of limitations. We should have known. It’s our job to know this shit.” He was cradling his head in his hands, walking back and forth in front of her closet.

  “We’ll talk to Church,” Lauren told him. “There has to be something.”

  “There’s nothing!” Reese’s arms shot out wide to illustrate how ridiculous the situation was. “Vince and Sam go to jail, but Ricky covers up a murder and gets away with it.”

  Lauren’s new city-issue cell phone buzzed on her nightstand. She had turned the cracked one over to evidence and gotten a temporary work phone. She looked at the number and recognized it right away. It was Church.

  “Did you see the press conference?” he asked. No hello. Right to the point.

  “We saw it, all right,” Lauren replied. “Tell me Ricky is getting charged with something.”

  “My next call is to the state attorney general’s office.”

  Lauren’s stomach dropped. “That’ll be a no, then.”

  “I’m working on it,” Church snapped, then added: “Right now all we have to connect Ricky to the conspiracy is the fact he checked the gun out and it never came back. That’s it. Even the Feds are going to want more before they charge him, especially if all three brothers stick to the story that Ricky didn’t know anything about it.”

  “Sam told Vince, but not Ricky? You believe that?” she challenged. “Ricky was the Homicide detective. We have a picture of the two of them huddled in a police car immediately after the murder.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I have to be able to prove that Ricky knew and conspired with Sam and Vince. Right now, I can’t.” He took a deep breath on his end of the phone. “I need you two in the Homicide office with every single sheet of paper you have on these cases right now. And get some coffee on the way, because it’s going to be a long day and probably an even longer night.”

  Church hung up on her. She sat staring at the generic phone in her hand.

  “Well?” Reese prompted.

  “Get dressed,” she said and tossed the cell back on the nightstand. “We have to go to work.”

  46

  It still felt odd to Lauren to walk into the Homicide squad, in the middle of the biggest investigation the unit had handled in years, both as an investigator as well as a victim. The smell of old coffee hung around the hallway instead of the freshly brewed scent that had filled the air when she last left. As she made her way to the large main office, Marilyn was at her desk, answering call after call. She looked up, saw Lauren, and stuck her index finger up, signaling to give her a minute.

  On the large folding table in the middle of the room that they pulled out for just such occasions, labeled files were neatly arranged in rows. Reggie Major sat at the end of the table with a yellow legal pad, recording every task completed and assigning a new one to anyone who found themselves with a second to spare.

  Reggie had close to forty years on the force, with over twenty spent working in Homicide. A scholarly-looking bl
ack man with round glasses perched on a long thin nose, he planned on retiring in a year when he turned sixty-two. He had slowed down over the last few years, but he was still in the game.

  He looked up from making his latest entry. “You and Reese are wanted in the captain’s office, now. The DA and the commissioner are waiting.”

  “They finish up the warrant for Sam?” Reese asked him.

  “That was done this morning.” He reached out and touched one of the folders with the tip of his ballpoint pen. “A copy of the warrant, the return, and the list of itemized property seized are right here if you want to look at them.”

  Declining, Reese waved his hand. “What about Ricky?”

  Reggie scanned the list in front of him, flipped a page, then said, “Joy is going to do the warrant at Ricky’s house. She’s trying to get a good address on him. Apparently, he recently moved. She wants to grab his computer and cell phone.”

  “Thanks, man,” Reese told him. “You’re doing a great job.”

  Reggie pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Ricky worked in this squad with me. We weren’t friends—he was too political for my taste—but I had respect for him. I worked that case. The whole squad did. I talked to that kid’s mom all those years ago, as much as she could through an interpreter. All she knew was that her only child was dead. She brought Gabriel here to have a safer, better life. Sam Schultz let him die in the street and Ricky covered it up.” He shook his head. “This one is personal for me.”

  “Understood.” Lauren wanted to go and give his shoulder a squeeze, but Reggie wasn’t the huggy, touchy-feely type. He was doing exactly what he did best, sorting out the facts and keeping everything on track and moving.

  “We need to arrest Ricky,” Reggie’s told them. “No excuses. Now go get busy.” He bent back over his files; they were dismissed.

  Reese and Riley turned and went back down the hall to the captain’s office, passing by their co-workers, busy doing their assigned tasks. Reese popped into the kitchen and grabbed two cups of coffee, handing one off to Lauren. She sipped it. It tasted the way it smelled, old and stale.

  Captain Maniechwicz’s tiny office was located at the end of the hallway, near the door to swipe in. The door was cracked open a little. Reese nudged it with his hip and they crammed themselves into the back of the room, standing shoulder to shoulder.

  Commissioner Bennett and DA Church were positioned in the two chairs in front of Captain Maniechwicz, both wearing severe looks on their faces. When Riley and Reese came in, they swiveled around to face them. Bennett sat very straight, her hands clasped together in front of her impressive dress uniform, with its hash marks and medals. Her black hair was pulled into a neat bun, highlighting her round face. Deep lines etched each corner of her mouth and across her forehead. People said Bennett wore the stress of the job on her face, but this was the first time Lauren had truly believed it.

  Captain Maniechwicz, AKA the Invisible Man, sat wedged behind his desk, belly butting up against it, framed by the huge Buffalo Bills flag he had stretched across the window, giving everything a weird red and blue tinge.

  The commissioner was the first to speak when Riley and Reese came in. “I’m not happy you two decided to go rogue on this case,” she began. “Not happy at all. Granted, the district attorney says the recording and the evidence seized at Vince Schultz’s apartment pretty much seals his fate, but civilians could have been seriously injured or killed in that car chase. I can’t let that go by without punishment.”

  They both hung their heads in acknowledgement and out of respect for her position. Riley and Reese had known going in that departmental charges would be waiting for them on the other side, no matter what the outcome of their DNA hunt at the party.

  “That being said,” she continued, “even though I’ll be filing formal departmental charges, I won’t be suspending you. I’ll leave it to an arbitrator to decide your punishment. You’re still witnesses, the most important witnesses, and the district attorney is requiring your cooperation in the investigation.”

  Church held out two pieces of paper. They each took one. Lauren quickly read over the first few lines. It was a departmental permission to search form, already filled out, for her home and computer, looking for any and all records and documents, written, printed, or digital, pertaining to the Schultz cases.

  “Am I the target of an investigation?” she asked, as she had been instructed to do since day one on the job if handed such a piece of paper.

  “No, you are not. And neither are you, Detective Reese, but we have to satisfy the court there aren’t any documents pertaining to this investigation in your possession that you haven’t yet turned over. We’re going to have to have a look at your departmental iPads, home computers, and cell phones.”

  “You already have my cell phone in evidence.” She held up the paper. “I would have given permission to search. You don’t need the form.”

  Church raised an eyebrow. “We need to do this by the book, am I right?”

  Lauren and Reese nodded in unison. Satisfied they understood, Church continued. “Investigators from my DA’s office are working with the state attorney general’s office on this, along with the Homicide squad. At some point today, someone will take you home so you can turn those items over. Your friend Charlie Daley is being

  re-interviewed as we speak.”

  “You brought Charlie back in?” Reese asked.

  “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.” Church clapped his hands together. “When we’re done here, go find Omar Pitts, my investigator, and he’ll tell you what he needs.”

  “And Ricky Schultz?” Lauren prompted.

  “We have enough for a search warrant, barely. Hopefully, his cell phone will yield some kind of communication between the brothers that shows he knew about the murder or that he knew about Vince’s stunt to try to get the Murder Book. The judge said no on taking his computer.”

  “What?” Lauren was stunned. A routine search warrant always included the computer.

  “Joy just called. Judge Quinn declared the computer overreached the scope of the warrant. He said if any communications are found on Sam’s and Vince’s computers, she can reapply.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Lauren sputtered.

  “Cell phone, yes; computer, no,” Church said. “Joy’s restricted to looking for the Murder Book and anything related to your attack. Quinn says right now we have no probable cause to believe he was involved in Gabriel Mohamed’s murder, and even if we did, the statute of limitations is up.”

  “Judge Quinn is still acting like a defense attorney,” Reese hissed, reminding everyone which side of the courtroom the judge was on before he was elected to the bench. “Joy should take the warrant application to Judge Reynolds.”

  “I told her no. Now is not the time to go judge shopping. Besides, another judge isn’t going to go against Quinn’s decision. We know we can reapply if we need to. We have to come up with something more,” the commissioner pointed out.

  Reese wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, after Ricky gives his computer an acid bath.”

  “If Ricky was going to destroy computers or phones, he’ll have already done it, believe me.” Church was stating the painfully obvious. “He’s had time to dispose of the evidence. We’re just looking for crumbs from him at this point.”

  “They haven’t found the Murder Book yet. What about the tire iron?” Lauren asked.

  The dour look on Church’s face answered her question before he opened his mouth. “Not a trace of it at Sam’s or Vince’s. Unless it turns up at Ricky’s apartment, and I don’t think it will, it’s a pretty sure bet it’s been disposed of. I can only assume Vince kept Garcia’s swipe card in case he thought he might need to get inside the Homicide office again. Garcia’s keys weren’t found with the swipe, so they were probably tossed.”

  “Do you think Sam w
ill actually turn himself in?” Reese asked.

  “He already did,” Church replied. “Along with a news crew from CNN. I have him waiting in the main conference room across the street. Ben Lema is going to take the lead for the interview. I’m on my way over there after we’re done. Sideshow circus doesn’t even begin to describe it. I’ve got reporters trying to question our office cleaners.”

  “Are you going to let Ben make the arrest?” Reese asked.

  “If Sam Schultz repeats what he just told the world, yes. My main concern is what Sam told his brothers and when he told them. Especially Ricky.”

  Reese shook his head. “Sam won’t throw Ricky under the bus. He’ll stick with the story that Ricky found out everything last Saturday night.”

  Church’s forehead wrinkled. “That’s what I’m afraid of. African American leaders in the community are demanding answers and actions. Understandably so. A candlelight vigil and rally are being planned for tomorrow night on the steps of City Hall. We have to show the city that we are committed to bringing all the parties involved to justice.”

  “The arrest of Vince and Sam will be a good start, but there’s outrage that Ricky might not get charged,” Bennett added.

  “Without Sam outright admitting he conspired with Ricky, we have nothing. And if we can’t prove he knew about Gabriel’s death, we won’t be able to prove he was involved in Vince’s attempt to steal the file and his attacks on Reese and Riley.” Church frowned. “Sam’s a lawyer; he knows what constitutes a murder conspiracy. He can’t help Vince, but he’ll try to save Ricky’s ass if he can.”

  Bennett stood up. “We’re all under the microscope right now. Seems like every news channel on the air is parked outside at this moment,” she said, “so act accordingly.”

  Lauren absorbed that information with dread. Every move they made would be on camera. She’d already seen pictures of herself splashed on the twenty-four-hour news outlets proclaiming her “the beautiful, avenging detective” and broadcasting ridiculous headlines like: Not Even a Stab to the Lung Could Stop This Cop From Seeking Justice For Slain Teen.