For Better or Worse

by Al Lamanda

  “That is correct,” Cena said.

  “You met him, spoke with him, and checked all his identification?” Carly asked.

  “Also correct,” Cena said.

  Carly looked at Kagan and nodded.

  Kagan lifted his briefcase onto the table and snapped it open. He removed a file folder and opened it.

  “This is a copy we obtained from the FBI of the signature card filled out by Mr. Grimes,” Kagan said. “You identified it as his signature. Would you mind taking a look at it for us?”

  Cena picked up the signature card and studied it for a moment. “That is my signature below Mr. Grimes’s signature,” he said.

  “Are you positive this is Mr. Grimes’s signature?” Kagan said.

  Cena looked at the card a second time. “Yes, positive,” he said. “I witnessed him sign the card myself.”

  “Thank you,” Kagan said. He opened a second file. “This is the photo lineup the FBI showed you six months ago. Would you please look at it again?”

  Cena looked at the lineup card.

  “It’s the same six faces,” Kagan said. “Would you be able to identify Mr. Grimes a second time?”

  “Certainly. Number four,” Cena said.

  “And you’re positive?” Kagan said.

  “Quite.”

  “Thank you,” Kagan said. “Now, what is the procedure for putting things into and taking out of a safe deposit box?”

  “A bank guard escorts the client into the deposit vault where the guard uses his key and the client his key to open the box,” Cena said. “Both keys need to be inserted and turned at the same time. Then, the guard leaves until the client is finished.”

  “So no one actually saw Mr. Grimes put anything into the box?” Kagan said.

  “Correct,” Cena said.

  “And without the client’s key…?” Kagan said.

  “The only way to open it would be to have a locksmith drill the box,” Cena said.

  “Will you be testifying for the prosecutor?” Kagan said.

  “I’ve been subpoenaed,” Cena said. “So yes, I will appear at the grand jury hearing.”

  Kagan nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Cena. We’ll see you then.”

  * * *

  The ride back to the hotel took just minutes. We met in my suite at the table in the living room.

  “Well, Bekker, you were right,” Kagan said.

  I was pouring coffee into cups when Carly said, “Right about what?”

  “Bekker substituted photo number four with a photo of his third cousin who lives in California and happens to look a great deal like Captain Grimes,” Kagan said.

  “What?” Carly said.

  “That busts open Cena’s testimony in court,” Kagan said.

  “And you didn’t think to share this little nugget with me and Harry?” Carly said.

  “Frank is used to lying with a straight face, you and Harry are not,” I said.

  Carly glared at me. Then she nodded. “I suppose that’s a compliment of sorts,” she said. “But don’t do that again.”

  “So, who does the honors of throwing this brick at Cena in court?” Kagan said.

  “You,” Carly said. “Jack is right: you are probably the best at keeping a straight face while telling a bold-faced lie.”

  “Let’s take the afternoon off and have lunch at the pool,” I suggested.

  “I don’t have a bathing suit,” Kagan said.

  “Wear what you have,” I said.

  * * *

  Carly wore a blue, one piece racing suit. Harry wore standard men’s swim trunks. Kagan wore Bermuda shorts, a polo shirt and sandals.

  I went with gym shorts and a grey T-shirt.

  We ordered lunch poolside, and conversation centered on the line of questioning for Smith and Cena.

  “Have you heard from Judge Brooks about identifying the money?” I said.

  “Not yet,” Carly said. “But don’t forget they’re an hour behind us back home.”

  “Call him anyway,” I said. “In case he forgot.”

  Carly nodded and took out her cell phone and made the call. She spoke for a few minutes and then hung up.

  “He didn’t forget,” she said. “He’s waiting on results.”

  “Good,” I said. “Any idea where Campbell and my daughter are?”

  Carly punched in another number on her phone, waited and then said, “Where are you?”

  A moment later, she hung up. “Shopping,” she said.

  “I’ll be in the gym,” I said.

  * * *

  I was dressing after a shower when the phone in my bedroom rang.

  “Bekker, drag your dumb ass to my suite,” Campbell said.

  “Because?” I said.

  “Your baby ain’t a baby no more,” Campbell said and hung up.

  I left my suite and walked down the hall to Campbell’s suite where Carly sat on the sofa with a sleeping Settina on her lap.

  Campbell held a glass of white wine as she stood beside the sofa.

  “Where’s Regan?” I said.

  “Have a seat,” Campbell said.

  I sat next to Carly.

  “Regan, dear, come show your caveman of a father what we picked up today,” Campbell said.

  The bedroom door opened and Regan walked out. It was a version of my daughter I had never before seen, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

  She wore an expensive white pantsuit with matching high-heeled shoes. Her hair had been done professionally, as was her makeup.

  She looked a decade older and reminded me very much of her mother.

  “Spin,” Campbell said.

  Regan twirled and then looked at me. “Well?” she said.

  “You’re every bit as beautiful as your mother,” I said.

  Regan misted up as bit.

  “Before we have a cry-fest, go change and show him the others,” Campbell said.

  Regan nodded and dashed back into the bedroom.

  I looked at Campbell. “Thank you,” I said.

  “What’s the point of being rich if you don’t spend it once in a while?” Campbell said.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “How much time before the plane is scheduled to depart?” I asked Campbell over breakfast, poolside.

  “Our flight plan is at two,” Campbell said.

  “I need earrings for Jane,” I said.

  “Because?” Campbell said.

  “Because I like all my body parts right where they are,” I said. “In one piece and connected to me.”

  “So, there is something you’re afraid of after all,” Campbell said. “If you’d like, I’ll take you shopping.”

  “I can handle it,” I said.

  “Are you sure? Are you positive?” Campbell said.

  I sighed. “No.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Campbell said.

  The shopping district was a few blocks from the hotel. Row after row of jewelry stores lined two blocks, followed by boutique stores and a large tobacco shop.

  “Anthony,” Campbell said to a man behind a counter.

  “Miss Crist, back so soon,” Anthony said.

  “My friend needs earrings for his lady friend,” Campbell said.

  “What is your lady friend’s taste in earrings?” Anthony said.

  “She’s a shotgun-and-boots kind of girl,” Campbell said.

  I looked at Campbell. “That’s not fair to…”

  “Those will do nicely,” Campbell said and pointed to a pair of diamond earrings under the counter.

  “Excellent choice,” Anthony said. “Would you care for a gift box and wrapping?”

  “I’d care to know the price?” I said.

  “Two thousand dollars American,”
Anthony said.

  “That’s a thousand an earlobe,” I said.

  “Wrap them, Anthony,” Campbell said. “Bekker, hand over your credit card.”

  * * *

  By seven o’clock, I was having dinner with Walt, Elizabeth, Oz and Regan in the dining room of my home.

  Walt and I separated ourselves with coffee in the backyard where we could talk privately.

  “How did it go?” Walt asked.

  “The bank president is full of it,” I said. I told Walt what Kagan and I did with the photo lineup card.

  “I’ve met a thousand guys like him in my time,” Walt said. “Willing to lie for their fifteen minutes of fame to jumpstart their career to the next level.”

  “I think he believes his identification,” I said. “The question is why.”

  Walt sipped coffee and then sighed. “What are my odds?”

  “For a dismissal? Even money at this point.”

  “In which case, the Feds take over and send in the big dogs at Justice,” Walt said. “I can’t beat this, can I?”

  I wanted a cigarette, but drank some coffee instead. “Two ways to beat this,” I said. “Find who set you up, or discredit all evidence and witnesses so the jury brings in a ‘not guilty’ based on insufficient evidence.”

  Walt nodded. “Which is Carly and company working on?” he said.

  “Insufficient evidence,” I said.

  “And you?”

  “Who set you up,” I said.

  “Is Carly and company aware of that?”

  “I work better alone,” I said. “But at some point, I’ll make it known.”

  “Just don’t make it the point where I’m being carted off to prison,” Walt said.

  I nodded. “Let’s get back inside,” I said. “I’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

  * * *

  After a restless night in the basement, I had breakfast early and was gone before eight o’clock.

  Carly, Harry and Kagan met me at the beach around nine. The first thing Carly did was call Judge Brooks.

  “Brooks said the FBI reports state that the six hundred thousand is untraceable,” she said. “Not one serial number turned up on a hot sheet.”

  “What about the handwriting expert?” I said.

  “We can’t use the expert provided by the police or the one provided by the prosecutor or the FBI,” Carly said. “We need an independent expert.”

  “Bill Tavers,” Kagan said. “He owns a large security firm in New York. He’s an expert at polygraphs, handwriting and interviewing. He’s not cheap, but he owes me a favor or two.”

  “Call him,” Carly said. “Set something up. I’ll call Brooks back and add him to our witness list.”

  While they made calls, I went into the trailer to change. I emerged wearing grey sweats and T-shirt and immediately went to work on the heavy bag.

  After fifteen minutes, I switched over to the speed bag, and fifteen minutes later to the jump rope, and then back to the heavy bag.

  My thoughts were free-falling.

  I knew Walt was innocent and there was a good chance of discrediting the witnesses, but the money was our Achilles heel. I left the heavy bag and did some elevated push-ups until my arms gave out.

  Spent, I returned to my chair.

  “The appointment with Tavers is set for noon tomorrow,” Kagan said.

  “Campbell is letting us use the jet, provided we don’t break it,” Carly said.

  “What about the ruling on Smith’s street contacts?” I said.

  “He has until Friday to produce the names,” Carly said.

  “That’s cutting it short, isn’t?” I said. “The grand jury hearing is in two weeks.”

  “When we meet with Brooks on Friday, I can ask for a continuance,” Carly said.

  “Are you coming to New York tomorrow?” Kagan asked me.

  “Sure,” I said, stood, and went for a run along the beach.

  “Our flight is scheduled for eight!” Carly shouted after me.

  “I’ll be ready,” I said over my shoulder.

  I jogged for about an hour. The feeling in my head was that I was missing something I should have seen by now.

  Some overlooked detail.

  When I was on the job and reached the point on a case where I was now, I would step back and give it a few days, and then go back with fresh eyes.

  It was like watching a movie you’d seen before and noticed some little detail you overlooked, even if you’d seen it several times.

  When I returned to the trailer, the gang was packing up for the day.

  “We’re calling it a day, Bekker,” Carly said. “We’ll need to be up early and fresh for tomorrow.”

  “I’ll pick up breakfast on the way,” I said.

  After they left in the limo, I put on a fresh pot of coffee and grabbed a shower.

  Then I took a cup to my chair, sipped, watched the beach, and thought.

  Whatever I was missing or not seeing still escaped me.

  Close to sunset, I spotted Jane’s cruiser driving across the sand. It arrived and she got out, still in uniform.

  “Got anything worthwhile eating in this dump?” Jane said.

  “Nope,” I said. “We can hit town or order out.”

  “Call the China Blossom and order one of everything,” Jane said. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

  While Jane took a shower, I drove my car to the edge of the beach where the public parking lot was located to wait for the delivery from the China Blossom. By the time he arrived and I returned to the trailer, Jane was out front in a chair, wearing a thin robe, and smoking a cigarette.

  I set two large paper bags on the table.

  “I got root beer, ginger ale, and Coke,” I said.

  “Root beer.”

  I brought out two bottles, plates and silverware.

  We ate watching the sun sink lower in the sky. At dark, I made a bonfire in the trashcan.

  “How was it hanging out with the Olson twins?” Jane said.

  “That reminds me,” I said. “I brought you back a little something.”

  I went into the trailer and returned with the little bag from the jewelry store on Grand Cayman.

  Jane took the bag and removed the gift wrapped box. She looked at me. “It’s not my birthday and it’s certainly not Christmas,” she said.

  “It will be by the time you open it,” I said.

  Jane removed the gift wrap and opened the box. She removed one earring, looked at me and misted up a bit.

  “Like it?” I said.

  “Love it,” Jane said. “You’ve made me very happy.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe you’d like to go inside and make me very happy?” I asked.

  Jane stood and took my hand. “My pleasure,” she said.

  * * *

  I woke up around two in the morning, untangled myself from Jane’s legs, and stumbled to the kitchen.

  I sat at the table with a glass of milk.

  Jane woke up and, wearing nothing but her new earrings, came and sat on my lap. She placed her arms around my neck.

  “I know this look,” she said. “You’re doing everything possible to help Walt.”

  “Am I?” I said. “So, why do I feel like I’ve missed something?”

  “We all feel that way,” Jane said. “It’s in our cop DNA.”

  “Walt will have to spend the rest of his life in isolation if he’s convicted,” I said. “One day in the yard and he’s done. That’s some reward for thirty years on the job.”

  “Jack, you can only do what you can do,” Jane said. “And seeing as how you have an early date with the Olson Twins, come back to bed and get some sleep.”

  Jane stood up and took my hand. “I got just the thing that will make you s
leep like a baby,” she said.

  And she was right.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  We landed at a small, private airport in the borough of Queens and took an Uber cab to Manhattan.

  Bill Tavers had a large office on 45th Street and Park Avenue. He was around Kagan’s age, slim, and wore a beard to offset his receding hairline.

  Kagan made the introductions. Then we met in a large conference room.

  “I employ three polygraph technicians, three investigators and two forensic specialists,” Tavers said. “I myself was a foremost handwriting expert for the department for twenty-five years.”

  Kagan opened his briefcase and removed a folder and set it on the table. He removed several documents.

  “These are samples of the signature of Captain Walter Grimes,” Kagan said.

  Tavers studied the signatures for several moments.

  Kagan produced a copy of the signature card from the Cayman bank.

  “The original?” Tavers said.

  “Unavailable,” Kagan said.

  “Then I can give you only a partial decision,” Tavers said. “I can’t judge the depth on the card to the depth on the documents without the original.”

  “Understood,” Kagan said.

  Tavers studied the signatures carefully, using a magnifying glass and finally said, “The documents are consistent with how much pressure Grimes uses when signing his name. That information is missing from the bank card.”

  “And the rest?” Kagan said.

  “Whoever signed the card was good. Damn good,” Tavers said. “But it wasn’t signed by Grimes.”

  “Are you sure enough to write a statement?” Kagan said.

  “I’ll appear in court if you want and explain the report and my findings,” Tavers said. “I’ll wave my usual fee except for plane fare and a hotel.”

  “That is what I was hoping you would say,” Kagan said.

  “I’m John Bekker,” I said.

  “I know who you are,” Tavers said. “That was a hell of a job you did in Puerto Rico last year.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “So, in your expert opinion, how difficult would it be to forge Walt Grimes’s signature?”

  “It’s difficult to forge anybody’s signature and make it pass,” Tavers said.

  “So this individual had to practice it?” I said.