Stakeout (2013)

by Hall, Parnell

  There was a parking spot on my block. Some days you get lucky. I parked the car, folded in the driver’s side mirror, zapped the doors locked. I went in, took the elevator up to my apartment.

  The cops were there.

  37

  THERE WERE A BUNCH OF them. Some in uniform, and some in plain clothes. The cops in uniform were New York City cops. The plainclothes cops might have been from anywhere, but two of them I knew. Bad Cop and Morgan, taking their act on the road.

  Sergeant Fuller grabbed me, whirled me around, slapped handcuffs on my wrists.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded. “Get out!”

  “They’re searching the apartment,” Alice said indignantly. It seemed to upset her more than the fact I’d been arrested.

  “What the hell?”

  “They have a warrant. They’re tearing the place apart.”

  I had to bite my lip to keep from saying, “What are they looking for?” I knew damn well what they were looking for.

  “Where’s your car parked?” Fuller demanded.

  “On the block.”

  He held out his hand. “Your car keys.” When I didn’t immediately produce them, he added, “I have a warrant to search your car.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I also have a warrant for your arrest.”

  “What’s the charge?”

  “Obstruction of justice.”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes. That’s one of those things that sound so lofty but actually means you don’t know.”

  “And impersonating a police officer. Is that specific enough for you?”

  Oh.

  I’d been wondering how bad it was.

  It was bad.

  “I want to call my lawyer.”

  “I called him,” Alice said. “He’s on his way.”

  “Tell him to meet you in New Jersey,” Bad Cop said. “You’re going back.”

  “The hell I am.”

  “The hell you’re not. I got a warrant.”

  “In New Jersey?”

  “That’s right.”

  “This is New York. Your warrant’s no good here.”

  “You can argue that when your attorney shows up. Right now you’re going to Jersey.”

  “The hell I am. I’m not waiving extradition.”

  Fuller frowned. “Extradition?”

  “I wanna stay in New York. You wanna take me to New Jersey, you’ll have to extradite me.”

  Fuller scowled at me murderously. I think his next move was to beat me unconscious and drive me to New Jersey strapped to the hood of his car.

  Richard arrived just then. He took in the situation at a glance, struck a pose, and said, “What the hell is going on here?”

  Bad Cop stuck out his chin. “Your client’s under arrest. He was just explaining to us why he won’t waive extradition.”

  Richard rolled his eyes. “God save me! All right, look. I don’t know why you’re discussing law with my client when you should be discussing it with me.”

  “Discussing? Who’s discussing? I put the handcuffs on, he said, ‘You can’t extradite me.’ Does that sound like a discussion?”

  “He left a few things out,” I said.

  Richard put up his hands. “Boys, boys. I’m sure you both have legitimate complaints. The thing to remember is, I don’t care. This is not a case of who gets sent to the principal’s office. Let’s see if we can walk the situation back a bit. Effect a compromise.”

  Fuller stared at him. “No one’s compromising on anything. Your client’s under arrest.”

  “I’m sure he is,” Richard said. “Now, you wouldn’t know it, but I actually have a law practice. In the interest of speeding things along, why don’t you let me talk to my client?”

  They did. Richard and I went in the living room and closed the door leaving the cops to cool their heels in the foyer.

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  I gave Richard a rundown of the situation.

  “Is that all they told you?”

  “What?”

  “That it’s obstruction of justice?”

  “And impersonating a police officer.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s no problem. We can beat that charge.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you actually did it. Makes it easier to defend.”

  “Richard, I’m not finding this amusing.”

  “I wasn’t joking. Impersonating an officer is a piece of cake. It’s specific, we can prove you didn’t do it. Obstruction of justice is so vague, it’s damn near impossible to defend.” He looked at his watch. “I wonder if it’s been long enough.”

  “Long enough for what?’

  “For them to think you’re telling me what you did. I would hate for them to think I already knew all about it.”

  “What about extradition?”

  “We are waiving extradition.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, for one thing, they’ll hold you in jail while you fight it. If you really want to stall on that basis it’s a strange choice.” He looked at me. “You saw that in some movie?”

  “What?”

  “Extradition.”

  “I read it in a book.”

  “Same difference. The main reason we waive it is we can’t win.”

  “Why not?”

  “The grounds for fighting extradition are extremely limited.”

  “How about the fact I didn’t do it?”

  “Oh, nobody cares about that. That’s a matter to be decided in a court of law after extradition. As far as extradition itself is concerned, you’re guilty until proven innocent.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “It is. Unless you establish a legal precedent. How’d you like to be quoted in court all the time, ‘In People vs. Hastings, it was decided.…’” He looked at his watch. “It’s been enough time. Let’s go see how bad it is.”

  38

  IT WAS PRETTY BAD. THE way Richard pieced it together, the local cops, with no leads in the Vinnie Carbone case, made another pass at Jersey Girl, who, predictably said something to the effect of, ‘Oh, no, not again,’ and told them all about the nice detective who had interviewed her and taken possession of her gun. Which set off a chain reaction of accusations, protestations, and recriminations in various branches of the constabulary, until someone in the loop made the connection to the police officer who wanted photographs of the fatal bullet for a Ft. Lee cop involved in an entirely different investigation. Sergeant Fuller had not taken kindly to the suggestion that this detective represented him.

  I don’t know how long it had taken to straighten it all out, but somewhere in the course of all that, Sergeant Fuller had driven down to the Jersey Shore, confronted the officers at the precinct as well as the technicians at the lab, and browbeaten them into admitting that aside from the detective himself they had no evidence whatsoever that the person they had spoken to knew him from Adam.

  Anyway, since I’d been arrested and booked, he had my mug sheet, complete with mug shot, which the cops and technicians unanimously identified as the culprit. For all Richard could ascertain, Jersey Girl hadn’t seen it yet, but you could be sure she would.

  Richard cocked his head at me. “Do you recall me suggesting that attempting to obtain a photograph of the fatal bullet would be an inadvisable course of action?”

  “I think we can concede I fucked up, Richard. The question is what we’re going to do about it.”

  “There’s no point my doing anything about it if you’re just going to do it again.”

  “Fine. I promise not to obtain any more photographs of the fatal bullet.”

  “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation.”

  “I do. I understand it without you beating it into me”

  “If you did we wouldn’t be here. You’re like a compulsive gambler. You’re in so far over your head you keep plunging on long shots and getting deeper and deeper in debt. The problem is, you�
�re gambling with your life.”

  “They have the death penalty in New Jersey?”

  “Gallows humor. The last refuge of a drowning man.”

  “Could you just skip the character analysis and concentrate on the situation?”

  “The situation is bad. The situation would be bad even if I didn’t have twenty-five thousand bucks riding on it. Talk about long shots. We’re at a point now where there’s no chance of making this go away. We’re talking about how to beat it in court. And I don’t mean in front of a judge. I’m talking about selling a jury. Swaying a jury is the long shot now. I’m talking about winning one juror and getting the jury hung.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said impatiently. “You do a great job of painting a gloomy picture.”

  “Oh, really?” Richard said. “Because I’m just beginning. Right now you’re charged with impersonating an officer and obstruction of justice. In addition to the murder charge you’re out on bail for that I’m sure we can beat.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “But look what’s happening now. The cops are going nuts looking for a gun. Which you broke half a dozen laws to get your hands on. That’s mighty suspicious. If I were a cop, that’s the kind of behavior which would be apt to tip me off.”

  “Come on, Richard, can’t we just concede that you’re a wizard at sarcasm and this situation gives you boundless opportunities, and move on?”

  “I thought I was. I guess the problem is your actions in this case are so stupid that simply reciting them smacks of ridicule. Here’s the point. You scammed a woman out of a gun for no conceivable reason. So the cops are looking for one. The only thing that makes the least bit of sense is that the gun in some way implicates you.”

  My mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

  Richard shrugged. “Do the math. You go to extraordinary lengths to get hold of the gun. You go to extraordinary lengths to get the photograph of the fatal bullet. Why in the world would you do that? The only conceivable reason is that the gun incriminated you.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “I know that, and you know that. But for all the cops know, it’s true. The bottom line, in case you fail to grasp it is, they’re trying to peg you for the second murder.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “What?”

  “That’s so stupid.”

  “Why?”

  “Why would I kill Vinnie Carbone?”

  “You have the hots for his girlfriend.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Wasn’t she ripping her clothes off and prancing around naked in front of you?”

  “They don’t know that.”

  “They do if she tells them.”

  “Why would she tell them that?”

  “Why not? You think a girl who would do it wouldn’t tell it? This is not some shrinking violet. What if she says, ‘I offered to fuck him and he’d still rather have the gun?’”

  “Why would I turn her down if I’ve got the hots for her?”

  “You must have really wanted that gun.”

  “Like I couldn’t have had both?”

  “So? What if you’re some gallant principled hero type who wouldn’t take advantage of her in her sorry state?”

  “And yet I killed her boyfriend.”

  “These are good arguments.” Richard shook his head. “I hope I don’t wind up having to advance them.”

  39

  WE GOT THE SAME JUDGE. I suppose in a county that size it was inevitable; still it couldn’t be good.

  It wasn’t. As the prosecutor droned through charge after charge, none of which, I was pleased to note, happened to include murder, the judge’s face grew longer and longer. After a while it was like I was being arraigned by Seabiscuit.

  The judge turned to Richard Rosenberg. “How does the defendant plead?”

  “Not guilty on all charges. We would request reasonable bail.”

  The prosecutor nearly gagged. “Bail? Your Honor, we ask that bail be revoked and the defendant remanded to custody.”

  “On what grounds?” Richard inquired calmly.

  “Is he kidding me?” the prosecutor said. “The defendant, as you know, is currently on bail for murder. While on bail, he seized the opportunity to meddle in a police investigation by impersonating an officer and obtaining evidence to which he has no right.”

  “Nonsense,” Richard said. “Do you claim he was meddling in the case for which he was charged?”

  “No. In another case entirely.”

  “Then I fail to see what one thing has to do with the other. Frankly, I resent the prosecutor attempting to prejudice Your Honor in this case.”

  “Oh, I doubt if that will happen,” the judge said dryly. “But that is certainly not the type of behavior one would expect from a defendant out on bail.”

  “What behavior? I hope Your Honor is not deciding the case before it is tried. An accusation is not a conviction. My client is presumed innocent until proven guilty.”

  “How can you claim there is no connection when the arresting officer in the murder case is the officer he claimed to be representing?”

  “Your Honor, are we arguing the merits of the case now? I thought this was a bail hearing.”

  “It’s an arraignment,” the judge corrected. “Your assumption of a bail hearing is optimistic.”

  “For good reason, Your Honor. The charges are much less serious than the ones for which he was previously on bail.”

  “Exactly,” the prosecutor said. “The defendant is charged with a capital crime. And yet he persists in breaking the law.”

  “He does nothing of the kind. Which I will demonstrate as soon as the matter goes to trial. Unfortunately, this is neither the time nor place for such a presentation. This is merely an arraignment. The time for entering a plea and fixing bail.”

  “The defendant has forfeited bail.”

  Richard grimaced. “Oh. Forfeit. What a nasty word. Particularly when we’re talking about my money. I would like to point out, Your Honor, that you set bail, I posted bail, and the defendant is out on bail. All strictly according to Hoyle. And there is no reason to alter that.”

  “He broke the law.”

  “That’s your opinion. But you can’t expect us to act on it.”

  “I beg your pardon. What do you think an arraignment is?”

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” the judge said. “If we could stop this petty bickering.”

  “Exactly,” Richard said. “We can argue these things in court. Right now I’d like to set bail.”

  “Or rescind it,” the prosecutor said dryly.

  “Thank you,” Richard said. “Rescind is a much nicer word than forfeit. Totally inaccurate, but much politer. Your Honor, would you please instruct the prosecutor that bail is not punitive. It is merely to make sure the defendant appears in court.” He smiled. “Here he is.”

  “Hardly of his own volition.”

  “Really? I wish the prosecutor would make up his mind. Is it now his position that the defendant did nothing to precipitate his arrest? Was he picked up merely on a whim?”

  The judge banged the gavel. “That will do.”

  “If I may answer that, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said, “the defendant was picked up on allegation and belief that he had in his possession a gun purported to have been used in another crime. That is the evidence he falsely obtained by impersonating a police officer.”

  “And did he in fact have this weapon?”

  “Search warrants duly obtained for his apartment, his office, and his car failed to produce it. I would ask the court to direct him to do so.”

  Richard put up both hands. “Whoa! The prosecutor is making wild allegations and assuming facts not in evidence. Is my client presumed guilty just because he says so? Is it not more likely to assume that if the police could not find a weapon it is because there was no weapon to find?”

  “Are you claiming you don’t have the gun?” the judge said.

 
“I’m claiming this is not the way to ask for it. The prosecutor can’t say, ‘I think you stole something, please hand it over so I can try you for stealing it.’”

  “That is not the situation at all,” the prosecutor said angrily. “I have a host of witnesses attesting to the fact that he has the gun.”

  “Then let them testify. But at the proper time. I thought this was merely an arraignment, but if you want to argue probable cause, let’s go. I would love to get these charges dismissed right here and now.”

  They went on like that for some time, with the end result that I was arraigned on a whole host of chicken-shit charges, a probable cause hearing was scheduled, and the defense was served with a subpoena duces tecum, ordering us to bring the gun into court.

  Aside from that, my bail was continued, and I was free to go.

  40

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” MacAullif growled.

  “We gotta talk this out.”

  “You have a lawyer.”

  “I can’t talk to my lawyer.”

  “Talk to your wife.”

  “I can’t talk to my wife.”

  “I’m the lesser of three evils.”

  “Least.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re the least.”

  “You may be wrong about that. I understand you got arrested again.”

  “You heard about that?”

  “How could I not? Sergeant Fuller is the laughing stock of the police department. Sergeant Fuller does not like being the laughing stock of the police department. Sergeant Fuller is going to do everything in his power to see you go down.”

  “Yeah, but he was anyway. It’s no big deal.”

  MacAullif’s expression changed. “Oh dear. You’ve lost it haven’t you? You’ve gone off the deep end. You’ve got yourself in so much trouble your brain can’t process it. You escape to some rich fantasy land where you’re the cocky PI, tossing off one-liners in the face of danger, aping some actor you saw in the movies. Who came out okay because it was a movie, and he was the star, and they didn’t want to kill him off in case there was a sequel. You, on the other hand, are expendable.”