The Battle of Jericho

by Walter Marks

backpage.com > long island jobs > long island show biz/audition > ad > Reply

  Re: Female dancers, Models, Actresses - CASH PAID

  Your email address: ____________________

  Confirm your email address: _____________

  Your message:

  She typed in her message:

  My name elena cruz. No have email. Use computer in coffee shop. Need work. I have 23 years. People say I pretty

  36-24-34. Please need work bad. Thankyou.

  Miss elena cruz. Call number 9176468382.

  Maria drove back to East Hampton leaving her phone on. It didn’t ring, but she figured it was only a matter of time.

  CHAPTER 55

  Jericho sat at his desk, perusing the glossy pages of Great Homes of the Hamptons. He saw photos of grandiose mansions — red brick Georgian, half-timbered Tudor, American Colonial, Mediterranean villas. The text credited the leading architects of the day — McKim, Mead & White, John Russell Pope, Edward Purcell Mellon. Built in the early twentieth century, many of these houses were referred to as “cottages” by the ultra-rich members of the so-called Summer Colony.

  Finally Jericho came to Richman’s house; he immediately recognized the mini-castle. Under a photograph, he read: Originally called Cornelia House, it was built in 1910 by William Astor Todd, a descendant of John Jacob Astor. Todd built the house for his wife, Cornelia, after she admired the Chateau de Sully-sur-Loire during their honeymoon cruise down the Loire River.

  Jericho turned the page and saw a photo of the main hall. Back at the turn of the twentieth century, the Astor Todds had furnished it in opulent Louis XV style. It was nothing like the present tackiness that was Richman’s living room.

  On the next page was a picture of the basement billiard and game room. “In this view,” the text read, “one can see the open door to a narrow passage leading to an underground wine cellar, said to have stored over a thousand rare vintage bottles.”

  Jericho got it immediately — that door leading to the wine cellar was hidden today by Richman’s floor-to-ceiling flat TV screen.

  Could that screen be hiding a way out of the house? An exit from the wine cellar, a ventilator shaft leading to the surface, something the CCTV cameras wouldn’t detect?

  He walked over to the Village Hall and asked if there was an original architectural blueprint of the old Cornelia House on Middle Lane. The teenage girl behind the desk rolled her eyes and sighed as if she’d been asked to find the Dead Sea Scrolls. But she went in the back and ten minutes later emerged with the blueprints. The basement layout clearly showed a large room with a corridor connecting it to a small room. That room was marked Wine Cellar. There was a ventilator shaft but its dimensions were not noted.

  Two words immediately popped into Jericho’s mind — search warrant.

  The clerk made him a photocopy of the blueprint. Then Jericho went back to his office.

  Maria had just driven through Sagaponack when her Tracphone chirped. She pulled over and answered it. “Hola. ¿Quien es?”

  A deep male voice spoke to her. “Is this Elena Cruz?”

  “Sí. Yes?”

  “Hey, señorita,” the voice said. “I’m with At Your Service, LTD. Got your e-mail and I thought maybe I could help you.”

  Maria noticed a trace of a Russian accent.

  “You can give help?” Maria said in her best Spanglish.

  “I can hear in your voice you’re really going through a lot. With the economy these days, so many people are struggling. But I’m more than a shoulder to cry on. Maybe we can figure out how to give you a better life. How does that sound?”

  This guy is good, Maria thought. “Sound…sound nice,” she said. “You sound like nice man. Como se llama?…What your name?”

  “My name is Oleg, but you can just call me O.”

  She shuddered at the sound of his name. “Nice to meet you, Meester O,” she said.

  “One thing I might suggest is modeling,” Oleg said. “Not nude, of course, but just lingerie, bathing suits, maybe other beauty products. Would you be comfortable doing that?”

  “Well…I no sure.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of. The money is good and…”

  “I change mind,” Maria said abruptly. She hung up.

  She was surprised at how well spoken Oleg was — probably second generation Russian Mafia, maybe born in Russia but mostly educated here.

  Now she could reach him when she needed to, which was the purpose of the call. Next she had to come up with a plan.

  As Maria pulled into the police station parking lot, the phone started chirping again. She left it ringing on the car seat, locked her car, and walked into the precinct house.

  CHAPTER 56

  At his desk, Jericho was looking over Maria’s notes when he heard his computer ding. He checked his incoming e-mail — it was from John Alvarez:

  Subject: Hair we go again

  Autopsy of Mrs. Ann Richman determined cause of death to be blunt force trauma to the head. Significant sand particles were found on the body, suggesting either death occurred on the beach, or she was killed elsewhere and her body was dragged to the beach.

  Here’s the kicker — under the victim’s fingernails were strands of hair, likely a result of her struggle with her killer. Our hair expert says it appears identical to the Malaysian hair found inside the sock on Mrs. Richman’s severed foot. We’ll need lab tests to confirm, but it’s a pretty good bet her murderer wears an expensive hairpiece. I know I previously suggested that as a joke, but I venture to say — it ain’t no joke now. Complete forensic report will be faxed later today. Lab reports tomorrow.

  — John

  The detective took his Hamptons Homes book, the blueprint, and the autopsy e-mail and went to see Chief Krauss.

  Jericho explained he needed a search warrant and asked Krauss to read his notes.

  The Chief did so and then gave Jericho a dubious look. “So what you have is a tiny hair on the victim’s foot, and some more hairs that may match Richman’s hairpiece. You think that gives you probable cause for a search warrant?”

  “I’m just requesting a limited search,” Jericho said, “just for the basement. Here’s a blueprint and a picture in that book indicating there was a wine cellar. That room is now concealed by Richman’s giant TV screen.”

  “So?”

  “What’s behind that screen may prove Richman could get out of his house undetected by the surveillance cameras, which would afford him the opportunity to kill his wife.”

  “That’s total conjecture.”

  “There’s also my gut feeling that Richman is the murderer.”

  Jericho looked at Krauss intensely. The Chief shook his head. “A judge’ll never buy it.”

  “Sid, those hairs are physical evidence that connects Richman to the victim.”

  “But you don’t have Richman’s hair.”

  “If I could get in there, I might be able to get a hair sample.”

  “How? Rip off his wig and pluck out a few strands?”

  Jericho scowled. “I have my ways. Do you want this case solved or not?”

  “Of course I want it solved, but…”

  “You remember the Ted Ammons murder?” Jericho said, playing his trump card.

  “Of course.”

  “You want the Suffolk County cops taking over this investigation like they did back then, because EHTPD can’t handle a tough homicide case?”

  Krauss didn’t respond.

  “You’re worried about looking inept?” Jericho said. “Well, you ain’t gonna look very ‘ept’ when the state troopers come marchin’ in, sayin’ ‘step aside, sonny, and let the big boys handle this.’”

  There was a long pause before the Chief responded. “Well,” he said, “it’s a long shot, but I’ll give it a try. Can you write up the affidavit this morning?”

  “Sure.”

  “I got an idea,” Krauss said. “One of my wife’s BFFs is Town Justice Lily Rakoff. They both serv
e on the board of the Ladies’ Village Improvement Society. Give me the affidavit and I’ll give it to Rosemary, who’ll pass it on to Lily, urging her to sign it. I know this isn’t standard operating procedure, but…”

  “Chain of command,” Jericho said, smiling.

  “Yep. Chain of command.”

  Maria thought about how she could expose Oleg and his prostitution ring. She considered going undercover as Elena Cruz, but realized that was too risky — once she was in their clutches, she could be raped, put to work, and never be able to escape.

  Then she got the idea of wearing a wire. I could arrange to meet Oleg somewhere in public, like a bar — then get him to talk about how I could earn big bucks. He’s slick and might avoid speaking directly about making me a sex worker, but I believe I could manipulate him, press him, until he said something incriminating. Jericho could be in a car outside the bar, listening and recording. And when Oleg exposed his true plans for me, Jericho could come in and bust him.

  She typed “felony pimping” into Google and learned the penalty for “pandering by procuring for the purpose of prostitution” was twelve to fifteen years imprisonment. If the conviction was “human trafficking” it was even more.

  She went to Jericho and told him how she’d contacted Oleg. Then she ran her idea by him.

  “Absolutely not,” Jericho said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’d be willing to…”

  “Maria, wearing a wire is great in the movies, but in real life it’s problematic,” he explained. “When I was with NYPD it worked for years, but then these electronic bug detectors came out. Some are no bigger than a cell phone, and they can detect a wide range of radio frequencies within a fifty-foot radius. The first time the mob used one on an undercover cop…well, I don’t have to tell you what they did to him.”

  Maria nodded. “Dumb idea.”

  “It’s not dumb,” Jericho said. “It’s actually a good idea, only you didn’t know about countersurveillance. But you did good work in contacting the Russians and initiating a relationship with Oleg. In time, that may prove very useful.”

  “We’ve got to take this gang down,” Maria said forcefully.

  “And we will. But we have to be patient.”

  “I know.”

  “And please know something else, Maria…” He looked at her intensely. “I do not want anything to happen to you!”

  Maria nodded.

  “Let me think about it for a while,” Jericho said. “Meanwhile, I’ve got a new lead on Sanford Richman.”

  Jericho showed her the Hamptons Homes photograph of Richman’s basement with the passage to the wine cellar exposed.

  “I’ve requested a warrant so we can see what’s behind that big TV screen.”

  “You think we’ll find Richman’s escape route?”

  “I hope so,” Jericho said. “But there’s one thing I’m sure of.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That screen is concealing a door. So it’s a good bet he’s hiding something back there.”

  CHAPTER 57

  At nine thirty AM Jericho and Maria were standing at Sanford Richman’s front door. The search warrant had arrived earlier and they figured Richman would be at his office computer when the stock market opened.

  Jericho rang the front doorbell. Richman’s voice came over a speaker. “Yes. What is it, Detective?”

  Oh, yeah — the surveillance video, Jericho thought.

  “We have a search warrant, sir,” he said. “Please open the door.”

  “Search? Why? What are you looking for?”

  “This is a police matter,” Jericho said. “Please buzz us in.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “I’ve got a court signed search warrant, so I wouldn’t advise that, Mr. Richman,” Jericho said. “You’d be charged with Obstruction of a Criminal Investigation, a felony that could get you five years in prison. Plus, we’d have to get a crew to bust in your door with a Rhino Ram. Your neighbors would love that.”

  “All right,” Richman said resignedly. “I just got out of the shower. Give me a couple of minutes to throw on some clothes.”

  “Okay,” Jericho said. “Two minutes.”

  “Three, then I’ll come up and let you in.”

  “You down in your basement now?” Jericho asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You have a shower down there?”

  “Yeah, a steam shower. Really mellows me out.”

  “Stay there,” Jericho said. “Buzz us in and we’ll come down.”

  “Okay.”

  As they waited, Maria asked Jericho why he’d given Richman the three minutes. “He could use the time to hide or destroy evidence,” she said.

  “We have a ‘knock and announce’ warrant,” Jericho explained. “After we announce ourselves, we have to wait a reasonable amount of time for the person being served to open the door.”

  Maria nodded.

  “Anyway,” Jericho went on, “we’re not looking for evidence he can tamper with. We just want to see if there’s a way in and out of this place behind the TV screen.”

  They waited quite a while. “Five minutes,” Maria said, looking at her watch.

  “Probably blow-drying his hairpiece,” Jericho joked.

  They heard Richman’s voice. “Sorry, to take so long, but I got a Sell alert from my broker. I have to execute it. Excuse me.”

  It took almost five more minutes before Richman buzzed them in. It seemed suspicious but there was nothing they could do.

  Finally he buzzed them in. Jericho and Maria entered and went down the hall. They opened the man-cave door and descended to the basement. Richman was dressed in a shirt and slacks, sitting at his desk and tapping on his computer keyboard.

  “Hang on,” he said. “I’m just confirming a trade.”

  Richman tried to look relaxed and casual, but he was clearly nervous and scared. His fingers moved erratically on the keys.

  Finally he stopped. “I assume you watched the surveillance footage,” he said. “So you know I had nothing to do with what happened to my wife.”

  “Yes, we saw it,” Jericho said.

  “Then what are you looking for?”

  Jericho looked at the giant TV screen. “Does that thing move?”

  “Huh?”

  “Is there a mechanism to slide it out of the way?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Jericho crossed to the TV and looked up. Where the screen met the ceiling there was a thin track, concealed by a molding.

  “Looks like it slides to the side. How do you control it?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Jericho kneeled down and examined the screen. At the lower right-hand corner of its frame was a small panel showing two buttons. One was marked and the other marked .

  Sanford jumped out of his chair, yelling, “What the hell are you doing? You can’t poke around willy-nilly into things. I’m calling my lawyer.”

  “You’re within your rights” Jericho said, “but he’ll just acknowledge the legality of our warrant. If we find something incriminating, we’ll arrest you, and of course you’ll want to call him. If we don’t, there’s no need to. Right now I suggest you take it easy.”

  “I will not take it easy!”

  Jericho grabbed Richman by the shoulders and shoved him toward a steam pipe in the corner of the room. “Maria,” he said quietly, “cuff him to this thing.”

  She whipped out her handcuffs and before he knew it, Richman’s wrists were dragged behind him and fastened to the iron pipe.

  “You can’t do this to me. I’ll file a complaint.”

  “You were belligerent and out of control,” Jericho said. “We had no choice. Right, Officer?”

  “No choice, Detective,” Maria replied.

  Jericho walked over to the TV screen and pressed the button. There was a whirring sound and the TV screen slid slowly to the right, exposing a red brick wall and a steel door, sec
ured by a large combination padlock.

  “What’s the combination?” Jericho asked.

  “I don’t know,” Richman said. “I didn’t even know there was a door there. I had the TV installed before I moved in. They didn’t tell me it moved.”

  “Tell me the damn numbers.”

  Richman didn’t reply.

  Jericho pulled his automatic pistol from his shoulder holster. “Wait, let’s see if Mister Glock can guess…” He fired.

  The lock shattered and fell to the floor.

  Keeping his gun pointed at the door, Jericho turned the doorknob and used his foot to push the door open. Maria joined him and they saw a long, narrow passageway with gray stonework walls, lit by a single naked bulb. At the far end was another door, this one made of oak. Approaching it, they saw it was secured with a deadbolt lock. The key was in the lock.

  Jericho opened the door and looked inside.

  He saw a queen-sized bed with a frilly dust ruffle. On the bed was a very thin teenage girl in pigtails — huddled against the headboard. She was dressed in an old-fashioned preteen schoolgirl uniform, short plaid skirt, white shirt with black tie, black knee socks, and patent leather Mary Janes.

  Next to her was a clothes rack hung with similar outfits.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Jericho said.

  Maria entered and saw her. “Oh, no.”

  Jericho moved slowly toward the girl, speaking calmly. “It’s okay…don’t be afraid. We’re the police, we’re not here to hurt you.”

  “Not to worry, honey,” Maria said.

  The girl wrapped her hands defensively around her chest. Jericho stopped and allowed Maria to approach her. When Maria got to the bed she looked at the frightened girl’s face. Suddenly she recognized her.

  “My God,” Maria said. “Rosario?”

  “…Maria?” the girl whispered. Maria sat down on the bed and took Rosario in her arms. “It’s over, honey. We’re here now. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

  “Maria, you’re…a cop. Like you always wanted.”

  Maria nodded and turned to Jericho. “This is Rosario Santiago. Teresa’s mother told me about her. Remember, I used to babysit her?”