by Henry Hack
“Okay, I think I see him pulling up now.”
He walked over to Pop’s car and got in. Before Pop could offer a greeting, Harry said, “That was some scary message. I couldn’t sleep all night. What the hell is going on?”
“I know. I’m sorry, but that was the only way to do it. Here, have some coffee and I’ll fill you in.”
Pop reached down between his legs and brought up a brown paper bag with two 16-ounce cups of coffee and a couple of buttered bagels. Harry grabbed the coffee and took a large swallow. He would need a lot of caffeine today.
“Thanks, sorry I sounded so cranky. What’s up? What’s the little problem? And what’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff?”
“I’m going to give it to you hot and heavy. Then we’ll talk.”
“Fire away.”
“About ten minutes before I left that message on your machine, I had just left a meeting at Boro Headquarters. At this meeting were my commanding officer, your commanding officer, Nick Faliani and me. We were all ordered there to meet with Inspector Peter Gregorovich, the commanding officer of Nassau Internal Affairs.”
“The Mad Russian!”
“You got that right. Gregorovich pulls out a letter. He says the Nassau District Attorney received it that afternoon, and it had been referred to him. He wouldn’t give us a copy, and he wouldn’t let us read it. But what it said went something like this.”
To the District Attorney: If you want to find who stabbed my friend, Richie Winston, you don’t have to look no further than that scumbag beat cop, Cassidy. I was in the bar when Cassidy came in after we had a problem with a wise kid who was drinking too much. Cassidy choked Richie and threatened to kill him. Five or six other guys were in there who’ll tell you the same thing. They shouldn’t be too hard for your detectives to find. But later on, when I was the only one left and Richie wanted to close up, Cassidy comes back, only now he’s wearing civvies and he looks pretty drunk. He orders a beer or two and then him and Richie get into it again, screaming at each other. I get outta there fast. I’m afraid this crazy cop is going to come after me next. It’s probably about 3:30 when I leave. The papers say they found Richie about 4:30. Put two and two together. Cassidy’s your guy. That other stuff about three unknown guys is all made up bullshit.”
“That was it,” Pop said. “No signature, no return address. The Russian became redder and redder as he read it. He wants blood.”
“What bullshit.”
“Is it, Hoppy? Is it all bullshit?”
“What? Why...?”
“Let me finish. Gregorovich had ordered me and Nick to bring all our notes and statements from the investigation to the meeting. Your little problem is that in the last two nights Nick located three of the guys that were in the bar, but not the guy who wrote the letter. The three guys, separately, stated you did grab Richie by the throat and threatened to kill him. Those statements are in Internal Affairs right now. They’re going to grab you up today, probably around ten o’clock. I’m here to tell you to get your story straight right now. And, Hoppy?”
“Yeah?”
“I never told you about that meeting. I never told you anything. This conversation never took place.”
“I got it. I’m going to tell them to go screw themselves. Some asshole writes a letter and naturally the Mad Russian believes it. But what about your witness that saw those three punks go in the alley?”
“I know. Nick and I know they did it, and the DA believes they did it, or they would have grabbed you up for a criminal investigation. But Internal Affairs doesn’t want to believe it. No witnesses located who actually saw who did it.”
“Pop, you don’t think that I…?”
“Of course not, but those statements are pretty convincing. Anything to them?”
“Yeah, they’re somewhat right. I got in Richie’s face as I told you before, but I didn’t choke him.”
“What about the anonymous letter?”
“Pure bullshit. Why would I go back there on Christmas?”
“To kill him, according to the pure and righteous Inspector Peter Gregorovich.”
“Any more good news?”
“No. Good luck over there. As far as this conversation goes, for the record, we spoke only about the case, about the witness who saw the three kids, and about your opinion of the composite sketch. And there is one spot of good news”
“That would be nice to hear.”
“All three of the guys in the bar say the composite picture looks just like the guy who went through the door, but of course, none of themwere involved in the actual throwing. It must have been the other guys there whose names now escape them, because they don’t know them that well, blah, blah, blah...”
“Thanks for the heads up. And please, catch those three kids soon. They’re the bad guys, not me. That damn Russian won’t let up until you show him the confessions.”
“I’ll do my best for you. You know I will.”
“I know.”
“And when you are over there, remember everything is being videotaped and recorded. Make sure you have a PBA delegate with you. Don’t wise off with the interviewer. Don’t use profanity. Be professional and courteous no matter how they come at you. Don’t give the Mad Russian any excuse to come after you harder than normal. I hear he is one vindictive prick.”
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll try my best to follow it.”
“I know I was probably being paranoid last night when I left that message, but IAD taps a lot of cop’s phones. They could be doing yours right now, but they’ll probably wait until after your interview. You have to keep that in mind at all times, and we have to be very careful in our future communications.”
“How should I get a hold of you if we need to talk?”
“Use a pay phone, or page me and I’ll call right back.”
“Aye, Aye, double-oh-seven.”
Pop smiled at that and said, “I have to get going. Good luck over there.”
“Thanks, Pop – for everything.”
Chapter Five
Harry patrolled his beat on the south side of Hempstead Avenue. At 9:10 the sector car pulled up at the curb alongside him. Willy Jasper, the recorder in the passenger seat, jumped out and opened the back door and said, “Hi, Harry, get in. You got a forthwith to call the boss.”
They drove him the remaining two blocks to the callbox and waited for him to make the call. They were curious to hear what the captain wanted.
“Officer Cassidy, sir. You wanted me?”
“Yes, Harry. You are to report forthwith to Internal Affairs, Room 300, at Boro Headquarters in Mineola. Take your own vehicle. You’ll be compensated for the mileage.”
“Any idea what this is about, Boss?”
“Yes, but I’m not at liberty to disclose it now. Come back to the stationhouse when you’re done, and come up to see me. We’ll talk then.”
“Should I get a delegate? Am I a target?”
“IAD informs me you are the target of this investigation and, as such, you are entitled to have a PBA representative present during your interview. I already notified the PBA office and they are sending one of our precinct delegates, Joe Vitale, to meet you there.”
“Am I to report to any particular person at IAD?”
“A Sergeant Susan Goldman – and Harry?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Tell the truth, be respectful, and I know you’ll come out of this fine and be back on patrol where you belong.”
“Thanks, Captain. I appreciate your vote of confidence.”
“What’s the story?” Jimmy Coppola, the operator of the sector car, asked.
“I got a forthwith to IAD.”
“What’d you do?” Willy Jasper asked.
“Damned if I know. All the boss would tell me is I’m a target. Joe Vitale is coming over to sit in with me.”
“Vitale’s a good man,” Coppola said. “He won’t let those IAD humps push you around. He knows the rules.”
●
As Harry drove to Mineola, Sergeant Susan Goldman was being briefed by Inspector Peter Gregorovich. The Mad Russian was in a better frame of mind this day and tried to look at the situation as objectively as possible. He reviewed the progress of the investigation by Hunter and Faliani, paying particular attention to the statements of the three witnesses that were in the bar. “Sergeant, all three of these statements specifically state Cassidy grabbed Winston by the throat and threatened to kill him. Hit him hard on this; get him to admit this act of brutality. It will give us leverage in going after him based on the information in the anonymous letter.”
“Yes, sir. What’s your opinion so far, Inspector? Do you believe Cassidy committed this assault, or that he was part of it?”
“I don’t know, Sergeant. I find it hard to believe Cassidy would be so stupid as to take out his anger on a punk like Winston and jeopardize his career, but we’ve both known cops who’ve done stupider things, haven’t we?”
“Yes, sir, that’s for sure, but the evidence is pretty strong this fellow in the composite photo is the most likely attacker, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. But there’s something else here I don’t like. That letter is telling us something that’s more than just an attempt to put Cassidy in the hot seat. Something stinks.”
“Do you think he did go back to the Nest? Could he somehow have planned this? Maybe he instigated these three to slash Winston? Or allowed them to do it? Or…”
“Stop, Sergeant. That’s what you are going to find out in the next few hours. That’s why I chose you for this assignment. Crack this guy and I’ll give you a performance evaluation that will go far in putting a gold bar on your shoulder.”
“Thank you for your confidence in me, Inspector. If he’s dirty, I’ll nail him.”
“I know you will. Here’s the file. Go get him.”
●
Harry found a parking place in the back of the municipal lot behind Boro Headquarters and walked around to the main lobby entrance and signed in. He chose to walk up to the third floor to room 300. The black, plastic nameplate on the door said “Internal Affairs” in white letters. He took a deep breath, removed his cap and walked in. The reception area was large and nicely paneled in dark cherry. The thick wall-to-wall carpeting was a deep maroon color. A cherry wood desk, now unoccupied, was in the center of the room and Harry noticed a nameplate that said, “M. Livermore.”
On the far side of the room was a woman with her back to him standing at a row of matching wood-grained file cabinets. She didn’t acknowledge him as she searched through the folders in the open top drawer. A familiar aroma of perfume permeated the area. Alfred Sung, perhaps? That one had been a favorite of Peggy’s.
Look at this place – wood-paneled walls, plush carpet. Nothing but the best for Internal Affairs, while the cops on the street pushed patrol cars with 125,000 miles on them. The brass should get their damn priorities straight. M. Livermore turned and looked at Harry. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, and he drew in his breath. She wore a white blouse with a navy skirt just above the knee. Her three inch high-heels matched the skirt. She walked over to him, casually tossing her thick dark auburn hair. Her beautiful green eyes focused directly on his. She smiled and said, “May I help you, Officer?”
Harry smiled back at her and regained his composure. “You know, Miss Livermore, looking at this classy office, and seeing a beautiful woman like you, is a sadistic way to treat a guy who is heading for a couple of hours of agony in there.” He nodded toward the door in the left rear wall of the office.
“I am not Miss Livermore…Officer Cassidy,” she said, looking at Harry’s nameplate on his overcoat.
“You’re not?”
“No, Miss Livermore is on one of her many breaks feeding her nicotine habit.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. I was called over to see a Sergeant Goldman.”
“That would be me. Have a seat. I’ll be reviewing some of these files. When your delegate arrives, push the buzzer on the wall and someone will bring you to the interview room.”
Harry could only mumble a “yes, ma’am” as he sank into the upholstered chair. Sergeant Goldman turned and walked through the door. He thought she looked just as good from the rear as she did from the front and he also noted this was the first woman who had affected him sensually since his divorce from Peggy.
Two minutes later Police Officer Joe Vitale came in the door. Harry was very happy to see him. “What’s up, Hoppy?”
“I don’t know, Joe. I got a message from the boss I was to report over here forthwith.”
“Let’s go out in the hallway. I’m not comfortable talking in this room.”
As they stepped into the hallway a young woman, fiddling with her long, blond hair, approached them. Joe held the door open and said, “Hi, Marie. We’ll be out here talking for a few minutes in case they call for us.”
“No problem, Joe,” she said, as she sauntered over to her desk
“I assume that’s Miss. Livermore, the receptionist.”
“Yeah, that’s her. Nice kid, but smokes too much.”
Harry then proceeded to tell Joe about his encounter with Sergeant Goldman, thinking he had been speaking with Miss Livermore. Joe screwed up his face and said, “Holy shit, Hoppy. Talk about stepping on your dick.”
“She seemed to be all right with the screw-up. She’s quite a looker. Ever see her?”
“No, but I’ve heard about her. Don’t be sucked in by the pretty face. She’s a female, Jewish sergeant who may be a lawyer, or near to finishing law school. I’ve heard she is quite an interrogator. They send these IAD sergeants to all the best schools for detecting lies, body language interpretation, handwriting analysis and whatever else. The Department spares no expense in rooting out us corrupt cops. I’m telling you, she’d like nothing better than to add your head to her collection as she moves up the ladder.”
“Jesus, Joe. You’re not making me feel any better.”
“I’m just preparing you for what to expect. Are you sure you have no idea why you’re here?”
Harry could not answer Joe truthfully without giving up Pop Hunter’s confidential information. He said, “It could be an old case that’s come up again, or something to do with the Winston attack on Christmas Day, or something I have no idea of at all. We’ll have to just wait for them to drop it on me.”
“What’s with the Winston case? They got a composite out, don’t they?”
“Yeah, I only mentioned it because it was the latest caper I was involved in.”
“Okay,” Joe said, looking at his watch. “We better get in there soon, but let me give you some basic advice before they start.”
“I’m listening.”
“Be polite and respectful. Handle yourself as if you’re in court testifying on a high profile case. Don’t volunteer extra information. Try to give one word answers to the questions. Keep an open posture, don’t cross your arms. Maintain eye contact, but don’t stare…”
“Where are you getting all this from?”
“Be quiet and listen to me,” he continued. “Don’t get argumentative. If things get hot and heavy, take a deep breath. I’ll interrupt if she goes over the legal edge, otherwise I’m not allowed to say anything, only observe. You must answer all her questions. If you refuse to answer a question, you can be charged with insubordination. Remember, your whole interview is being recorded and videotaped.”
“Doesn’t she have to read me my Miranda warnings? Don’t I have the same rights as the scumbags we lock up?”
“No, and be happy you’re not being Mirandized. If you were, you’d be in the DA’s office with a PBA lawyer, instead of here with me. So far, this is just an internal departmental investigation.”
“I guess that’s some good news anyway.”
“Hoppy, sometimes during the interview it becomes obvious things are turning toward a possible criminal case, either by your own admissions, or by the line of questioning. I may in
terrupt and demand they read you your rights. I’ll only do that if you have such diarrhea of the mouth you’re sinking yourself fast. But if her questioning is pointing criminal, and she doesn’t give you your rights, that’s a plus because whatever you said can’t later be used against you in court.”
“I’m depending on you.”
“That’s why you pay your union dues, friend. We’d better get in there. Let’s not piss her off before we start.”
Just then the door opened and Miss Livermore announced, “Sergeant Goldman will see you now. Please follow me.”
They went through the door in the rear of the reception area and down a short carpeted hallway and then turned left down a longer hallway with several wooden doors leading to offices on either side. Miss Livermore knocked on a door marked “Interview Room #4” and Sergeant Goldman said, “Come in.”
Joe introduced himself and walked to a chair in the corner of the office on the same wall as the office door and sat down. He obviously knew the drill. Sergeant Goldman moved her chair out from behind the desk where she had been reviewing the case files and placed it next to the desk. She drew up another chair, placed it directly in front of hers, and motioned for Harry to be seated. She sat down and crossed her legs – lovely, long legs – as Harry could not help but notice. He wondered if having a great body worked to break down the subject quicker. It certainly worked to raise his temperature. Sergeant Goldman looked Harry straight in the eyes and said, “Shall we begin, Officer Cassidy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Officer Cassidy, I am stating for the record this interview is being video-taped and recorded. Also, there are view ports where superior officers may observe into this room as the interview takes place. Do you understand what I just told you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I prefer to be called Sergeant Goldman, or just Sergeant.”
“Yes, Sergeant Goldman.”
“At the conclusion of this interview you will write a report for me based on your responses. Officer Vitale can assist you with that if you desire. Is that clear to you?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
She looked at her watch and said, “Today is Wednesday, December 28. The time is 10:29 a.m. and this interview is being conducted by Sergeant Susan Goldman, shield number 228, Internal Affairs Division. The subject of the interview is Police Officer Harold T. Cassidy, shield number 619, Nine-Five precinct. The purpose of the interview is to determine if Officer Cassidy has violated the Rules and Regulations of the New York Metropolitan Police Department by engaging in an act, or acts, of police brutality.”
