Dog Tags

by David Rosenfelt

  The truth was that Landon was right in assuming that M was frustrated, but if anything he was underestimating that frustration. M thought that Landon was getting indecisive, perhaps even soft, and it surprised him. With what they were doing, and with what they had already done, there was no room for that.

  M knew that the dog was at Carpenter’s house. He hadn’t seen him, but he knew it as certainly as if he had. And he knew he could go in and get him whenever he wanted to. It wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do; M was aware that Marcus Clark was lurking around, guarding the place. He had checked out Clark, now knew him by reputation, and respected him as a force to be reckoned with.

  But not as much of a force as M.

  Clark could be handled, especially since M had the advantage of surprise and timing. He could take him out whenever he wanted. And then there would be nothing to stop him from walking in and taking the dog.

  After that M knew that Landon was on his own. M knew nothing about dogs, other than the fact that he didn’t like them. If they were going to get the mutt to lead them to the envelope, Landon would have to figure out how.

  So M was frustrated that he wasn’t taking action, and he was frustrated that he could do nothing to change the situation. Landon was calling the shots for the time being, because Landon had the money, and if there was one constant in life it was that money ruled.

  When it came time to kill Clark, and Carpenter, and Carpenter’s girlfriend, none of it would be personal. It was simply about getting the dog, because getting the dog meant getting the money.

  SCIENCE HAS ITS PLACE IN A TRIAL, BUT PROSECUTORS DIFFER ON WHERE THAT PLACE IS. Their varying opinions on how juries receive scientific evidence especially impact on the order of the witnesses they call, and that decision can set the tone for the entire trial to follow.

  Scientific testimony is drier than eyewitness or motive testimony, and some prosecutors believe it should therefore come first, when jurors are eager and alert. It also provides a more compelling proof, harder to refute, and introducing it first might render a juror more receptive to the “why” and “how” testimony to follow.

  The majority of prosecutors take a differing view. They want their case to be an unfolding story, told in the same general chronological order as the crime was committed. Therefore, since forensic proof by definition must follow the crime, the witnesses who present it should bring up the rear.

  If the eyewitness and motive evidence in this latter approach is compelling, the prosecutor can demonstrate the defendant’s guilt independent of the forensics. When the science is finally introduced, it serves as ironclad confirmation of what the jury already knows, and it is therefore even more unassailable by the pathetically weak defense, in this case me.

  Eli is a proponent of the second approach, as I would be if I were in his shoes. As his first witness he calls Kenny Parker, a twenty-three-year-old law student who recently finished his second year at Seton Hall.

  Once Eli sets the stage with some questions establishing Parker as a fine, upstanding young man, he brings out that he was present at the Skybar the night of the murder. He also has Parker admit that he had been drinking a bit, but that he was sober and clearheaded when he left.

  “Please describe what happened and what you saw as you left the bar,” Eli says.

  “Well, I was standing there, and I heard this loud noise, I thought it was a firecracker or something, coming from down the block. I started to turn that way, and all of a sudden this big dog comes running right toward me, with something in his mouth.”

  “What did you do next?” Eli asks.

  “I backed up a little, because I thought the dog was coming at me. But he ran right by, and then I heard another loud noise. Then there was all this yelling, and a lot of people running around. So I went down the street, and I saw a body on the ground, and someone standing over him.”

  “Can you identify that person?”

  Parker nods. “Yeah… yes. It was him.” He points to Billy to complete the identification. “And then he leaned over to the guy on the ground, and put his hand on his neck. It was like he was feeling for a pulse or something.”

  “Did you see anyone else there?”

  “You mean by the body? No, there were a lot of people running around and yelling, but he was the only one by the body at that point.”

  Eli turns the witness over to me, and I ask Parker why he went to the bar that night.

  “Just to have a little fun with some friends; there aren’t that many places to go at night around here.”

  “So you were having fun,” I say. “Playing Wiffle ball? Video games? Pin the tail on the donkey? That kind of fun?”

  He laughs a little uncomfortably. “No, we had some drinks and talked. Danced a little.”

  “How many drinks did you have?”

  “I think two,” he says. “But I was there for almost three hours.”

  “What were you drinking?”

  “I’m pretty sure it was vodka and tonic.”

  “How long does it take to drink one of those?’

  He shrugs. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes. Depends on how long I want it to last.”

  “So you had two drinks, lasting maybe twenty minutes each, and you were there for three hours. Sounds like you had a lot of downtime, huh?”

  Eli objects that I’m being argumentative, which I will continue to be throughout the trial. Judge Catchings sustains the objection.

  “How much do they charge for a vodka and tonic?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe eight bucks.”

  I introduce as evidence a copy of his bar check that night, which totaled eighty-two dollars and seventy-five cents. He tells me that he bought a bunch of drinks for his friends.

  “That’s nice; you’re obviously a generous guy. Ten of the eleven drinks listed on that check were vodka and tonics; sounds like you and your friends have similar taste.”

  “Sometimes the bartender just keeps writing down whatever the first drink was.”

  This makes no sense to me, and the jury will feel the same way, so I don’t have to pursue it further.

  “You testified that when you left the bar, you were standing there in front. Were you waiting for something?”

  He looks worried as he says, “For my friend, Danny.”

  “Did Danny drive you there that night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  At that moment, Parker has to decide whether to continue lying or tell the truth. He chooses the truth, probably because he assumes I already know it and will nail him with it. “He was the designated driver.”

  I could press and embarrass him on this for the rest of the day, but I don’t. The jury is smart enough to know when designated drivers are required, and I don’t want to be seen as badgering him.

  I keep Parker on the stand for another twenty minutes, getting him to admit that it was dark down the street, and hard for him to see. I can’t get him to retract anything that he testified to about the murder itself, mainly because it was all true.

  He may have been drunk, but his recollections are accurate. And damaging.

  When court ends I head home, have dinner with Laurie, put in a trust session with Milo, and then decide to take Tara for a walk. I haven’t been doing enough of this lately, because of Milo’s presence.

  My walks with Tara are special times for both of us, and I think she’s been missing them as much as I. I’m only a little embarrassed to say that I talk to her out loud, secure in the belief that she understands me, if not the actual words. I know I understand her, if not the actual barks.

  Our timing is perfect, because we meet a neighbor walking Bernie, a five-year-old golden who lives two blocks away. Tara and Bernie love each other; their joy every time they meet is obvious and terrific to watch. I’m especially pleased because Willie and I rescued Bernie three years ago and placed him in his current home. He’s a great dog.

  When we get home, I swear Tara looks a
t me with gratitude, and with the silent message that we should do this more often.

  We should. And we will.

  I’M TRYING TO SOLVE AT LEAST TWENTY-ONE MURDERS AT ONCE. In addition to Erskine’s murder, for which Billy is on trial, there are the eighteen deaths in the Iraq suicide bombing, and the likely murders of Tyler Lawson and Donovan Chambers. This doesn’t include Jeremy Iverson, Raymond Santiago, and Jason Greer, the other discharged soldiers whom we haven’t been able to trace at all yet. Even though we haven’t gotten any information on them, it’s safe to say that I’m glad I didn’t write their life insurance policies.

  I have no doubt that all these murders are connected, and solving one will put me on a path to solving them all. Unfortunately, all that I know right now is that it all started with the Iraqi oil minister, and that on some level it’s all about money. Oil and money definitely do mix.

  Solving a mass murder in Baghdad is difficult when you’re sitting in a bed at one o’clock in the morning in Paterson, New Jersey. All I have is the file, so I’m going over it once more, having already prepared for tomorrow’s witnesses.

  Laurie is lying next to me, sleeping soundly, which is what I would like to be doing. Tara is lying across my feet, which for some reason I find incredibly comforting, and Milo is across the room, curled up asleep on a chair. If the big guy would just wake up and tell me where the damn envelope is, a lot of this aggravation might be avoided.

  As a rule I hate relying on assumptions, but I have a tendency to violate that rule when I have no facts to take their place. So my basic assumption is that Erskine recruited five of the soldiers in his command to allow the suicide bomber proximity to the oil minister.

  The money that Lawson and Chambers seem to have left behind indicates that they were well paid for their negligence, so much so that they felt they could disappear and live comfortably after their discharge.

  The fact that they and Erskine were murdered obviously means that the people behind the explosion would not tolerate any witnesses to their efforts. Erskine, Lawson, and Chambers seem to have been murdered to ensure their silence.

  In Erskine’s case, there is a possibility that he was blackmailing his employer. Billy believes that Erskine was preparing to make a trade just before he was killed. If that is so, then his actions may have also precipitated the deaths of Lawson and Chambers. There is no way to know, but it’s possible that the killer believed they were part of the blackmail as well, or might commit their own in the future.

  One of my concerns is that our investigation into Erskine has so far failed to turn up any substantial sums of money. If the soldiers enriched themselves by their actions, then the same should be true of Erskine, who as the leader should have made even more. The jury is going to want evidence, but so far we don’t have it to show them.

  I have in the files many of the contemporaneous newspaper stories about the explosion. It was a major news event, despite the fact that suicide bombings have not exactly been unheard of in Iraq this decade. The critical injury to the oil minister, who was not expected to survive at the time, plus the collateral deaths of two American businessmen, elevated this to a higher news status than most.

  Different angles were taken on the story, probably due to the political leanings of the individual reporters. Some of them were straightforward, reporting on the event and concluding that the oil minister was the target, so as to prevent him from reforming the corrupt system.

  Others focused on the lax security, and the inability of the American and Iraqi military and police to prevent the bombing, despite the fact that they knew this would be a tempting target for the enemy. Speculation was that heads would roll, particularly among the American security authorities. That is of course what ultimately happened, though they were low-level heads.

  More business-oriented publications focused on the future impact the event would have on the oil industry within Iraq, and the secondary impact on the world oil market in general. All concluded that the explosion would signal an instability and a future question of oil supply that would send prices skyrocketing in the short term. That prediction was validated within twenty-four hours, as oil prices immediately went up 11 percent.

  At the time the stories were written, the oil minister was in a coma, listed in grave condition. There were rumors that he was brain-dead, and that the life-support machines could be disconnected at any time. This proved not to be the case; he lingered for eleven more days before succumbing.

  For some reason this fact strikes me differently than it has before, and I look in the army file to see if I can find sketches that answer the question I am forming. The sketches are there, but they’re confusing to me, and it’s going to be at least tomorrow until I can find out what I need to know.

  But now I’m anxious and frustrated, which prevents me from falling asleep. I start to fake-yawn and stretch, nudging against Laurie each time, hoping to wake her up without getting blamed for it.

  This doesn’t work, so I start to put some voice into the fake yawn, giving off an “aaaahhhhh” each time I do. She doesn’t wake up, so I do it increasingly louder, until I’m yawning like Luciano Pavarotti. Still nothing.

  My next trick is to pull on the covers in various directions and turn the lamp on and off. Still no luck, so I pull, turn, and yawn all at once. If the Iraqi oil minister were still in a coma and lying next to me right now, even he would wake up.

  “Andy, if you wanted to wake me, why couldn’t you gently touch me on the back and say, Laurie, please wake up, I need to speak to you, sweetheart.” She says all this without moving a muscle or opening her eyes.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say. “Did I wake you?”

  “Andy, be careful. I’m licensed to carry a gun under my pillow.”

  “Oh. Laurie, please wake up, I need to speak to you, sweetheart.”

  For the first time she moves, half sitting up, supported by her elbow. “Okay. Speak.”

  “Eighteen people were killed in Iraq that day. Sixteen of them died instantly, and two died days later.”

  “So?”

  “So one of the two was the oil minister.”

  “I know that, Andy. We’ve both known that since day one.”

  “It was a powerful explosion, Laurie. If the girl was after the minister, why wasn’t she close enough to him to kill him on the spot?”

  Now she sits all the way up. “That’s a good question. Maybe the girl got confused, and stood in the wrong place. She was sixteen years old, and she had to be scared.”

  I shake my head. “Maybe, but unlikely. Billy said she moved around for a long time before doing it. That’s why he kept watching her.”

  “Then maybe she couldn’t get close, because of the security.”

  “The security was set up to give her a free pass. This operation was planned perfectly; why go to all that trouble and then not give her access?”

  “We need to check this out,” she says.

  I nod. “That’s for sure. First thing in the morning.”

  I turn out the lights and lay my head down. “Good night.”

  “Andy, this could be important. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to sleep.”

  “Then just try to lie there quietly. I’m exhausted.”

  WILLIE AND HIKE WERE NOT THE PERFECT TRAVELING COMPANIONS. They were in first class from New York to Miami, which Willie found to be “really, really, cool.” The seats had elaborate entertainment systems, with a television, DVDs, and video games. The flight attendant seemed happy to quickly bring Willie pretty much anything he wanted, and in normal circumstances he would have been content if the flight went on much longer than it did.

  That’s if he hadn’t been sitting next to Hike.

  Hike thought the cabin was too cold, the chicken stringy, and the bloody Marys watered down. He mentioned all of this to Willie, who didn’t share his viewpoints and told him so.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Hike. “We’re going to die on the next flight anyway.�
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  Once they boarded the small plane for the Miami-to-Nassau flight, Hike really kicked it into gear. His we’re-going-to-die fear became a chant, annoying all the passengers and prompting a warning from the flight attendant.

  By the time they landed in Nassau, Willie had decided that he would rather swim back to New York than fly with Hike. They got their bags, and then Willie rented a car while Hike covered himself in bug repellent and suntan lotion.

  They went to the local headquarters of the Royal Bahamas Police, where they had an appointment with Inspector Brendan Christian. Christian had investigated Donovan Chambers’s disappearance, and had spoken to Laurie on the phone.

  Hike conducted the interview after getting Christian’s permission to turn on his tape recorder. He took him through everything that Christian knew about the Chambers case, which was little more than he had already told Laurie. During the interview, Willie showed the sketch of M that Cindy had provided, but Christian had no recollection of seeing him.

  When they were finished, they had four and a half hours until their flight, and Willie wondered to himself if he had time to buy a gun to shoot Hike during the flight back.

  “I was just thinking about something,” Willie said. “They say that this guy is a shooter only… that’s how he hits. And Chambers was a combat soldier, so he could probably handle himself.”

  “So?” Hike asked.

  “How did he get a gun onto the island? He wouldn’t try getting it through airport security, would he? That would be taking a chance.”

  Christian nodded. “And he wouldn’t have purchased one on the island. That would call attention to himself, and we’d know about it.”

  “Which explains the fact that you haven’t found a body,” Hike said. “He came in by boat, and dropped the body at sea. And he would have needed a car to get around.”

  Christian held up the sketch. “I’ll have this shown at all the rental car agencies and piers where the boat could have docked. But even if we get an ID, it doesn’t help catch him. He’s long gone.”