“It appears to be a gun.”
“So this was an attempted armed robbery? You phoned in your investigation on an attempted armed robbery?”
Tasker objects and Hatchet sustains. I turn him over to Tasker’s cross, but he actually makes very little effort to rehabilitate him. His last question reflects his approach. “Sergeant, in your investigation, did you find that this incident had any relation whatsoever to the Steven McMaster murder?”
“No,” Robbins says.
My next witness is Sergeant Mike Frierson. I’m actually recalling him, since he was part of the prosecution’s case. I gave him a bit of a hard time on cross-examination, so I’m not expecting him to be friendly now. Fortunately the facts are the facts, and that’s all I want from him this time.
“Sergeant Frierson, regarding the bloody part of the sleeve that was left behind from the dog bite, did I ask for it to be tested for DNA?”
“Yes, and that was done.” He goes on to identify Ernie Vinson as the person whose DNA matched that of the blood on the sleeve.
“Is every citizen’s DNA available to be matched?” I ask. “Are we all in the system?”
“No.”
“Why was Ernie Vinson’s DNA in there?”
“Because he had been arrested and convicted of crimes in the past.”
“What kind of crimes?”
“Assault, attempted murder, racketeering.”
“Had he spent time in prison?” I ask.
He nods. “Almost six years, in two separate terms.”
“To your knowledge, was he what is called a mob enforcer?”
“Yes.”
“Now that you’ve learned who the assailant was and you’ve learned that he was carrying a gun, has the investigation been reopened?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Vinson is dead.”
I feign surprise. “Ernie Vinson? The man carrying the gun in that video is dead?”
“Yes.”
“Boy, that really puts things into perspective. He died of natural causes, I assume?”
“No, he was shot and killed.”
“Has his killer been captured?”
“No.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Tasker hasn’t objected to this line of questioning since he knows that Hatchet would shoot him down because of the Tomasino fiasco. So once again he simply gets Frierson to say that he is not aware of any connection between Vinson and the McMaster murder.
Hatchet has something he has to attend to, so he adjourns the trial early for the day. My guess is the jury is pleased at this; I know I am.
For the first time in a very long time I am able to pick Ricky up from school, and then we take Tara and Sebastian on a long walk. After that we head down to the foundation to see how things are going; I’ve been out of touch for too long. Zoey and the puppies are doing great. This is the second time Ricky has visited them; he loves laying on the floor and letting them walk over him.
The little ones, who define the word “adorable,” are nearing the age when they can be adopted, and Willie and Sondra already have a waiting list of families ready to do just that. Puppies are the easiest to place, though that is a fact that doesn’t necessarily please anyone in rescue.
Laurie is going to a friend’s baby shower tonight, the first time she has been out in quite a while. When I’m on a case, even though she has a full plate as my investigator, most of the burdens in the house fall on her. When I’m not on a case, most of the burdens of the house fall on her.
She is concerned about what we might have for dinner, but I tell her not to worry, that we’ll order in. What I don’t tell her is that Ricky and I have designed a plan to order pizza and garlic bread, which is what we do.
By the time we’re done stuffing ourselves, we have to be rolled out of the kitchen. I swear him to secrecy as to what we ate, but from past experience I know he’ll cave under Laurie’s pressure. That’s okay, it was worth it.
Once I have him tucked into bed, I head to my upstairs office to work on the witnesses for tomorrow. We have only a few days left in the defense case, and we have to make the most of them.
And then will come the dreaded wait for the verdict.
At first I think the noise is Laurie coming home.
Then I realize it isn’t her, unless she’s decided to throw herself against the outside wall of the house before coming in.
It’s coming from the backyard, and when I look through the window I see Marcus and someone else facing off against each other. One of them has just bounced off the wall, but I don’t know which one.
I’m feeling panicked and not sure what to do. The first thing I do is run to Ricky’s room and make sure he’s sleeping. Then I lock his door from the outside; no matter what happens I don’t want him coming out.
Next I go get Laurie’s gun, which is at the top of the closet. She keeps it unloaded, so I have to get the ammunition, which is in another closet. Once I do that, I have to figure out how to load the damn thing, even though she has shown me on more than one occasion.
I do that while running down the stairs, and then I grab the phone, call 9-1-1, and report what is going on. I should have done that first. I run into the yard, which is not the brightest thing I’ve ever done, but I feel like I have to.
Now for the first time I can get a better sense of what is happening. Marcus is fighting with someone at least three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than he is. And the guy does not look fat; my grandmother would say that he is “built like a brick shithouse.”
They are smashing each other, but seeming to block most of the blows. I never thought I would say this of anyone, but the guy might be a match for Marcus.
“Marcus, take my gun!” I scream, mostly because it is worthless in my shaking hand. Not only could I not hit the intruder, I doubt that I could even hit the garage. Also, in the dim light I would be afraid I would hit Marcus. But having said that, I am going to do what I have to. Marcus is not going down.
Not surprisingly, they both ignore me; it’s as if I didn’t say anything. And maybe I didn’t; maybe I’m so nervous that my voice didn’t register a sound.
They’re now grappling, with their arms around each other. Suddenly, the enemy seems to get the upper hand and throws Marcus against the garage. He moves incredibly quickly, and he grabs Marcus from behind, his hands in the head and neck area.
He’s going to break Marcus’s neck.
I don’t know how to shoot without hitting Marcus, but I’m about to try when I see Marcus put both his hands on one of the guy’s arms. Then he does something I would never have thought remotely possible, he snaps the arm.
Just breaks it. Like a twig. The sound that it makes is the most disgusting, beautiful, revolting, exhilarating sound I have ever heard.
The man screams and drops his other arm. Amazingly, he uses that arm to throw another punch at Marcus, but it doesn’t land. Marcus slips it, grabs the man, and pounds his head into the wall. Three times. I would yell at Marcus to stop, but I don’t want him to, and it wouldn’t matter anyway.
The man finally slips to the ground, just as the area erupts in light and noise.
In seconds cops are everywhere, guns drawn. Two of them train their weapons on Marcus and me, and two others go to the bad guy with the crushed head.
One of the cops says, “He’s dead.”
“Good,” I say.
I introduce myself and Marcus to the cops and explain that I live here, and that I called 9-1-1. Two of the other cops recognize me, so they lower their weapons.
I’m squeamish about stuff like this, but I summon the courage to walk over to take a look at the dead guy. I am not surprised that he looks just like Yuri Ganady, except for the crushed head part.
Laurie pulls up in front of the house; she can’t get into the driveway because of all the police cars. She comes running up the driveway in a panic, and I try to quickly assure her as soon
as I can that everyone is all right.
The police have set up camp by the back door, which is where the coroner is retrieving the body as well. So Laurie and I go around the front to enter the house.
I point to the Christmas wreath on the front door and ask, “Any chance we can take that down? The neighbors must think we’re nuts.”
She shakes her head. “If they don’t have the holiday spirit, that’s their problem.”
We go upstairs to make sure Ricky is okay, and somehow he has slept through the entire thing. On the way back outside I tell Laurie what has gone on. I’ve got a hunch that she’s going to think this was not a great night for the baby shower.
My other hunch is that she won’t think to ask what Ricky and I had for dinner.
Pete shows up and takes charge of the investigation.
His first question to me is, “Have you noticed how many times people have tried to kill you?”
“Actually, I have.”
“It could be a personality thing,” he says. “Now suppose you tell me what happened.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to question Marcus; there’s not that much that I know.”
“Damn, we’re going to have to bring in a translator. I can’t understand half the things he says, on the rare occasions he says anything.”
“I think Laurie can help with that,” I say. “All I know is that we’ve had Marcus tailing Ganady, and…”
“Why?”
“Two reasons. He murdered Steven McMaster and your warehouse guy, so we’re trying to catch him in something incriminating. And the other reason is that Laurie thought it was a good idea, which is why I am currently still living.”
“Okay, so Marcus was following Ganady…” He gestures for me to continue.
“Yes, and he apparently followed him here and prevented him from entering the house. Ganady attacked him, and believe it or not, it was a fairly even fight for a while. Then Ganady got behind him and tried to break his neck, and Marcus didn’t react well to that. But Marcus was totally acting to save my life, and in self-defense as well.”
“Don’t worry, nobody’s going after Marcus for this,” he says.
“Good. And do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“If Ganady is carrying his cell phone, can you give me the number? I need to subpoena his phone records.”
He looks like he’s going to argue, but then says, “Okay.” He calls over one of his officers and sends him off to find out the number.
Pete then goes off to question Marcus, and enlists Laurie for help. I go back in the house to make sure Ricky still hasn’t woken up. With all the noise and lights it’s amazing that he hasn’t.
I actually shudder at the prospect of Ganady having gotten into the house with Ricky, and I give him a small kiss on the head. He doesn’t wake up from that either, but I think I see him smile. I could be wrong about that, but I choose to believe it.
I’m not really sure what the effect of tonight’s events will be on the case, but it probably cuts positively. If we can tie Ganady to Karen McMaster, then that connection will be made much more ominous by what Ganady did tonight.
The only negative is that the police will never have the opportunity to question Ganady, but if Cindy Spodek’s report was correct, he wasn’t the type that would be likely to break down and spill everything under interrogation anyway.
The excitement, such as it is, doesn’t end until almost two thirty in the morning, at which point the only sign that anything happened is police tape and two officers guarding the scene. Our neighbors, all of whom came out to see what the hell was going on, have retreated to their houses and beds. If they’re smart, they’ll organize a meeting to figure out a way to throw us out of the neighborhood.
Laurie and I are still a bit wired, and we calm down by sitting in the den with a glass of wine.
“You probably saved my life by having Marcus follow him,” I say.
I instantly regret having said that, because she starts to cry. I don’t deal well with women in general, but with crying women I am a complete loser.
“Was it something I said?”
“Let’s go to bed,” she says.
“When you say, ‘go to bed,’ what exactly do you mean by that?”
“I mean you should hold me until I fall asleep.”
“Okay, just checking.”
As I stand up, I realize that I still have Laurie’s gun in my pocket. “Whoa,” I say. “You might want to unload this.” I put the gun on the table.
“You loaded the gun and took it outside? Would you have shot the guy if you had the chance?”
“Absolutely. Actually, I would have shot at the guy. What I would have hit is anybody’s guess.”
So we go up to bed and I hold Laurie until she goes to sleep.
Not bad.
I wake up at six o’clock, which means I’m going on three hours’ sleep.
For some reason I’m not tired; maybe it will hit me later.
I shower, grab a cup of coffee, and take Tara and Sebastian for an early walk. The dogs are clearly surprised at the timing, and are slow to spring into action. Sebastian looks at me as if to say, “How about if I just stay here and piss in the house later?”
Once I’m back I call Sam Willis. It’s still early but I know he’ll be awake. Sam is always awake. He answers, as per usual, on the first ring. “Talk to me,” he says.
I tell him that I want him to go into the GPS phone records of Ganady in much more depth, not just since we have been made aware of him, but for at least two months before that. I want to know where he has been every moment of every day.
“I’m on it,” he says.
My next call is to Hike, telling him to subpoena the phone records for Ganady, on a rush basis. I want a legal record of who he called, but I don’t need the GPS records for now. One major positive result of last night’s violence at my house is that we now have Ganady’s number from Pete. This way we can legitimately request the records, and included in there will be his call to Karen McMaster the night of her husband’s murder.
When I arrive at court, Hatchet calls Tasker and me into chambers. This is getting to be a regular occurrence. I’m tempted to say, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” but I think I may have used up my allotted sarcastic comments with Hatchet.
“Well, Mr. Carpenter, there appears to have been some excitement at your house last night.”
I was so busy I forgot to check and see if the media had the story, but it appears they have. “Yes, Your Honor, I was heroic as always.”
“I trust your family is unharmed?”
This represents an uncharacteristic outpouring of humanity from Hatchet. “Yes, thank you, Your Honor.”
“What effect do you gentlemen see it having on our trial? Since the news doesn’t relate it to what we are doing here, it’s possible that jurors have been exposed to it.”
“Unless Mr. Carpenter informs us otherwise, I don’t see a connection to our case,” Tasker says. “I am not aware of Yuri Ganady having any relationship to what we are doing.”
“Then let me take this opportunity to inform you otherwise,” I say. “Ganady is directly involved, and will be a key part of the defense presentation.”
“How is he involved?”
“He either murdered Steven McMaster, or had it done. More likely the former.”
Tasker laughs at the idea. “I thought Ernie Vinson was the killer? It’s getting hard to keep track.”
“You need to concentrate more,” I say.
“Enough of that,” Hatchet says, which shuts us right up. “If you intend on bringing Ganady into this case, Mr. Carpenter, then we need to consider the effect on the jury if they’ve seen the news coverage this morning.”
“I respectfully disagree, Your Honor, and I’d like to place an emphasis on the word ‘respectfully.’ I assume the news coverage presented it straightforwardly, and as you said, they did not tie it into our trial.
My intention would simply be to re-present it to the jury, exactly as it happened, and exactly as reported. Then, of course, I will tie it into the McMaster murder. But the question of whether they are already aware of the events last night shouldn’t prejudice them one way or the other, since they’ll be hearing about it from me anyway.”
Tasker really has to go along, mainly because he has no real alternative. I’m quite sure he doesn’t want a mistrial, since he correctly considers his side to be leading. So questioning the jurors as to what they’ve heard about last night would serve no real purpose. Suppose they said they saw the coverage? Then what?
Hatchet agrees that there is nothing to be accomplished by questioning the jury, and no real harm if they have been exposed to the news reports. He says that he will reinstruct the jury not to watch media coverage of anything relating to this trial, but will not mention last night.
What is bugging me about last night, other than the fact that a Serbian paramilitary killer tried to end my life, is the question of why he would do it. The obvious answer, I suppose, is that he was in a conspiracy with Karen McMaster, and it has become clear that she is my target. But they should know that getting me out of the way wouldn’t let her off the hook. Hike or another lawyer would simply pick up where I left off.
If they thought they would save themselves from exposure by killing me, they aren’t as smart as I thought.
It must be something else.
There was one unusual aspect to the prosecution’s case.
Tasker never called Lieutenant Anthony Reiner, who was the lead detective on the McMaster murder investigation. He basically didn’t need him because his evidence was just factual, the DNA hat was at the scene and the ring was in the locker, and he could bring them in through other witnesses.
It’s rare that the defense would be the only side to call the lead detective, but that’s what I’m doing now. I could ask Hatchet to let me treat him as a hostile witness, but I don’t think that will be necessary. I can always do it if Reiner’s answers and attitude merit it.
Deck the Hounds: An Andy Carpenter Mystery Page 19
