“No, I suppose not,” Ben said with sigh. “Still, it would have been nice. Like I said though, how many people would have known about the specifics of the security cameras?”
“Not very many, I wouldn’t think. The security guards probably all know, but I’m not sure anybody else really does unless they happen to inquire about it. I think we had an issue several years ago when they thought they had some volumes missing from the library, but that was quite a while back. Nobody really suggested that we take any steps to change the cameras or anything,” Tierney said defensively.
“Has anybody ever asked you about it? About how many hours of tape are stored in the cameras?”
“No, I don’t think so. Like I said, it may have come up when we had the problem in the library, but I’m not even sure it came up then. I can’t remember anybody asking me about it since then. Of course, that doesn’t mean somebody didn’t ask one of the guards on duty. I don’t spend that much time sitting at the security desk downstairs. You might want to check with them.”
“I’ll do that,” Ben said. “I just wonder if the killer got lucky or if he knew that by the time anybody found the body, the tapes of him or her getting on this floor would be taped over.”
“That’s a good question,” Tierney said.
“Tell me about the locks on the doors,” Ben said. “I seem to recall something going on with them.”
“Well, as you may remember, the offices on the 6th, 7th and 8th floors of the building are on the outside perimeter of the building with the library on the interior. The professors can access the library through the doors on either end of the hallway, but students in the library can’t get out to those floors. They have to go back out and leave through the main entrance to the library on the 9th floor.”
“So basically,” Ben said, “the professors can get in and out of the library without having to go up to the 9th floor, but the students can’t get out without going to the 9th floor.”
“Exactly.”
“I assume the professors have a key of some sort to go from the library to the office part of those floors?”
“Yes, they do. Here, let’s walk around to the door around the corner here and I’ll show you,” Tierney said. The two men walked around the corner to a door that accessed the library.
“Of course,” Ben said, “just like the main entrance, if somebody let you in from the library to the office, then you wouldn’t need the key.”
“No, you wouldn’t. No system is perfect, I guess. The main principle is, again, that we’re trying to keep a handle on materials leaving the library and make sure that they come and go through the main entrance on the 9th floor.”
“Unless, of course, a professor takes them?”
“Yes, unless a professor takes them,” Tierney said.
Ben looked around and surveyed the area. “So which camera would cover this entranceway?”
Tierney looked around for a moment as well, then pointed to the far end of the corridor. “I believe the one down there at the end of the hallway.”
“Way down there? I wouldn’t think you could get much of a view of this location from way down there.”
“Of course,” Tierney said, “there are additional cameras by the elevators as well.”
“Yeah, but if you went back and forth through this doorway, say with a key card, there wouldn’t appear to be much of a view of you coming and going.”
“I’m not sure. We would have to go downstairs and see what kind of view there is.”
Ben nodded. “Okay, then, let’s do that.”
The two men returned to the first floor, where they found Charles Powell sitting at his station. “Charles, let me slip in here for a second, will you?” Tierney said. Powell got up and stepped aside as Tierney sat down and began punching a few codes on the keyboard. “Here it is, right here,” he said pointing to the screen at the far right of the panel. “This is the view down the hallway from that camera.”
Ben leaned over Tierney’s shoulder and studied the screen. “That’s not much of a view is it?” he said. “Sure, you get a view of the doorway right in front, but the one at the end of the hall, the one closest to Greenfield’s office, you can’t really tell much of anything. I’m not sure you could tell whether someone went in or out of that door. Plus it’s so close to the corner that you could be in or out of it and around the corner in just an instant.”
Tierney didn’t like the implication that the security system was flawed, but he couldn’t disagree with Ben’s logic. “You may be right,” he said finally, “but it really doesn’t matter anyhow since the camera only goes back seventy-two hours, and we don’t have a shot of whoever may have done it. Whether it was your client or not,” he said trying to put Ben back on the defensive.
“It wasn’t my client,” Ben said, “but just because we don’t have a picture doesn’t mean that the killer knew we weren’t going to have a picture. You could probably get in or out of that door and around the corner in less than what, a second or two? Unless Charles here, or whoever was on duty, was looking at that exact picture at just the right moment, he would have missed it. Not that he could tell much from that view even if he had been looking at it.”
“Maybe not,” Tierney said, “but the fact remains we don’t have a picture.”
“No, no we don’t,” Ben said scratching his head. The two men spoke for another couple of minutes before a call on Tierney’s radio took him back upstairs to the library, leaving Ben alone with Charles Powell. Ben studied the screen for another minute and then stood and stepped out from behind the kiosk. “Charles, let me ask you something. You’ve seen my client on television, I take it?”
“Yes sir, I have.”
“Had you seen her before you saw her on television?”
“I think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I saw her here in the building. I’m pretty sure I did.”
“I understand. When do you think you saw her?”
“I think it was around Christmastime, right around the time the Professor was killed or maybe a little bit before.”
“How many times did you see her?”
Powell thought about it for a few seconds. “Oh, I would say twice, maybe three times at the most,” he said.
“What makes you think it was her?”
“Well, for starters, it looks like her. Another thing, she didn’t look like a student. You tend to notice when someone comes in here and doesn’t look like a student or isn’t one of the professors. Plus, she didn’t come in here during one of the between class times when it’s all crowded and everything.”
“Okay, so you say you think you saw her coming in the building. Did you ever see her leave?”
“Yeah, I did, at least once. She went around to the elevators and came back just a few minutes later.”
“So she wasn’t upstairs very long at all.”
“Nope.”
“Now, again, how many times do you think you saw her, Charles?”
“I would say twice coming and once going, sir. I don’t remember seeing her leave the second time.”
“So the first time you saw her, that was the short visit?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Ben nodded. “Okay, Charles, that’s fair enough. Let me ask you something else. Did she ever stop here at the desk and look at any of these video screens?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Has anybody ever done that, stopped and looked at the monitors?”
“Oh sure, every once in a while a student will stop by and ask me if I’m seeing anything. You know, joking around stuff. Every once in a while, someone will ask me if I’ve ever spotted anything on these cameras.”
“Has anyone ever seemed more curious about the security system than they ought to be?” Ben asked.
“No, I don’t think so. Mostly, people are just wondering why there’s a guy sitting down here looking at these cameras all day long. You know how it is
, after a while you get to know some of the students a little bit, and you get to talking to them, and they ask you questions sometimes. But do I think anyone was casing the joint? No, I can’t say that. Mostly just routine curiosity. I never thought nothing of it ‘til now.”
“No,” Ben said, “I could see why you wouldn’t. Has anybody asked you about the security around here who wasn’t a student?”
“No, I don’t think so, except maybe for some professors or staff. Some of them ask occasionally about how we make sure their offices and stuff are protected.”
“Really,” Ben said, “like who?”
“Mostly women. Some of the lady professors are a little concerned about security and stuff.”
“Do you remember any of the women professors in particular?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Powell said rubbing his chin, “let me think about it. I seem to remember Professor Harper asking me about stuff once or twice and I think maybe Professor Berman did too. Other than that, I’m not sure I can remember, but I’ll think about it for you if you’d like.”
“Thanks, Charles. I’d appreciate that.”
The following day, Ben met with three of his former professors at the law school - Richard Seagram, Gordon Hyatt and Thomas Makra, and found all three very cooperative. Ben and Seagram talked over lunch down the street from the law school and Seagram gave Ben a better idea of the politics at the law school, including the reputations Greenfield and Dorlund had as skirt chasers, a trait not completely lost on Seagram himself.
After lunch, Ben found Professor Hyatt in his office and they discussed the circumstances surrounding Hyatt’s discovery of the body. Other than that, he didn’t have much to offer. Makra, on the other hand, was a wealth of information. As Ben suspected, he knew where all of the bodies were buried at the law school. He gave Ben the names of two of the students who had made accusations of impropriety against Greenfield, both had also taken Makra’s classes in the Uniform Commercial Code, and even described a loud argument between a first-year student and a professor on Greenfield’s floor shortly before Christmas. Whether the argument involved Greenfield himself, Makra couldn’t say. Makra also told Ben that there had been strong rumors circulating in the law school for years that Greenfield may have enjoyed some recreational chemicals from time to time. None of the three professors, however, could envision a scenario where Sylvia Greenfield had killed her ex-husband. They agreed that she was much too cold a fish for something like that, particularly now, several years after her divorce. Given the unanimity of their analysis, Ben reluctantly moved her name off of his top list of possible suspects. He wouldn’t eliminate her altogether until he had the opportunity to meet her and assess her personality himself. When that would be, only time would tell.
20
Ben looked up to find Mark staring at him. “What?” Ben said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mark replied. “Do you have to use the red pen when you review that? It makes me feel like I’m back in grade school.”
Ben was reviewing some discovery requests that Mark had drafted. There were edits and additions all over every page, written in precise red ink. “It’s easier for them to read,” Ben said. “I don’t want them to miss any changes. You’re lucky I’m not grading it. Next time you write something, you should try using a crayon. It would be more fitting.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. He knew Ben was kidding. At least he thought so.
Ben finished the last page and handed it to Mark with a sly grin. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t too bad. I just had some things I thought of that you didn’t include. No big deal. Make sure Nancy gets the corrections made so we can take it to Court tomorrow.”
“You know,” Mark said, “I used the form I got from Ken and made a few additions …”
“Hey,” Ben interrupted, “don’t worry about it. It was fine. No big deal.”
“Ben, Mr. Portalski is here,” a voice said over the intercom.
“I’ll be right out,” Ben said. “Take this up to Nancy and I’ll go get Portalski.” Ben pulled on the door that led back to the main part of the building from the garage. He found Ed Portalski in the kitchen looking at a copy of the Chicago Sun-Times.
“Ed,” he said and slapped him on the back.
“Counselor, how’s it going?” Portalski said in a gruff voice. Ed Portalski was a stocky man in his early-fifties with greasy hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in two weeks. He combed it in a modified pompadour.
“Hey, I like the new do,” Ben said. “What is that, chestnut?”
Portalski rubbed his hand self-consciously through his hair and said, “Yeah, I had to cover up the gray. I was tired of looking at it.”
“Follow me,” Ben said and he led Portalski out toward the garage. A former sergeant with the Chicago Police Department, Edward Portalski left the force under mysterious circumstances about ten years before to become a private investigator. Ben first met him when he was a prosecutor and he knew Eddie Portalski to be thorough and well-equipped to dig up information often found in the seedier parts of town. He was also very well-connected with his former colleagues in the Chicago Police Department and Ben had taken advantage of this fact several times over the past few years.
Noticing his fingernails, Ben said, “Are you still fixing cars?”
“Na, not too often, only when a friend needs something. A buddy of mine needed to have a new starter put in on his Buick, so I was working on it last night.”
“Take off your coat,” Ben said as they pushed into the garage, “make yourself comfortable.”
Eddie took off his green parka to reveal a stained blue denim work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal severe eczema on both forearms. He never felt fully confident in Eddie Portalski’s hygiene. Portalski looked around at the stuffed heads looking down on him.
“I always get a fucking kick out of this place,” he said. “So what’s the deal this time?”
“Hold on, I’ll tell you when everybody gets here. You’re not the only guy that’s going to work on this one. Do you know Stan Disko?”
“Sure, Stan and I go way back. I haven’t seen him in years though.”
At that moment, the door to the garage opened and Mark entered, a large bald man trailing in his wake.
“I met Mr. Disko out front,” Mark said.
“Eddie,” Disko said, “I didn’t know you’d be here too.”
“Stan, Ben Lohmeier,” Ben said sticking out his hand. “We met a while back when you were in here doing something for Ken Williams.”
“I remember, counselor, good to see you again.” Disko said.
“Now that we’re all here,” Ben said, “why don’t we sit down and get started?”
Stanley Disko was also a private investigator and specialized in more upscale matters and insurance cases. He didn’t do much surveillance work anymore, but could be persuaded under the right circumstances and for a handsome fee. Ken Williams had used him for years and Ben had met him a couple of years earlier when he was helping Ken out on a case involving one of the firm’s contractor clients.
Ben sat down in one of the barber chairs, while the others grabbed spots around the large conference table. Then Ben gave them a brief summary of the events that brought them together.
“It doesn’t sound much like a woman’s crime,” Disko said when Ben finished.
Ben shook his head. “No, I don’t think so either. On the other hand, there must be some evidence connecting Megan with this crime or she wouldn’t have been arrested. We don’t know what that evidence is since they haven’t turned any of it over to us yet. The client insists there is no real connection other than she was one of his students many years ago, but that doesn’t seem to add up either. We have to get to the bottom of what happened with her and the Professor, both together and separately, if we want to get a better handle on this.
“Eddie, I want you to focus on the victim, Daniel Greenfield. Find out what he was into and who he hung around with. I
can give you a couple of tips, and write this down.” Portalski slid a note pad from the center of the table and pulled a pen out of his pocket. Ben relayed what he knew about Greenfield’s divorce, before moving on to the situation with the students. “One of the students was a woman named Hinkle, while the other’s name was Wexler. I don’t know much more about them than that. See what you can dig up. There is also another student that the professor apparently had a fairly significant relationship with. I don’t know her name. We’re trying to find that out. Try and dig into this without making too much of a scene at the school. I will concentrate on talking to most of the professors and staff myself. I know some of them and should be able to get some answers. Approach it from the outside in.
“Finally, I hear tell that the professor had a little problem with tooting the white powder. So look into that angle as well. His closest friend at the law school and anywhere else for all I know is a fellow professor named Samuel Dorlund. I have already talked to him once and I’ll be talking to him again. Look into that a little bit too, but don’t talk to Dorlund directly. That’s pretty good for a start.”
“I’ll say,” Portalski said.
“Now,” Ben continued, “as for you, Stan, I want you to focus on a couple of other avenues. First, I want you to look into the husband, Joseph Cavallaro.”
“The husband?” Disko said. “Why are we looking into him?”
“We’re looking into him because I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. Yeah, he’s footing the bill because he has to. He and the client have had some marital problems over the past few years, he’s quite a bit older than she is, and he’s doing whatever he can to try and keep the marriage together when she would just as soon get out. Look into him pretty carefully, you know, see if there is any connection between him and the Professor. Look into his law practice, see if he has any financial problems, that sort of stuff. He has already been a problem and I want to see if there is anything floating around out there about him that I don’t know about.
“Next, I want you to check out some of the professors at the law school. See if anybody has had problems with Greenfield in the past, particularly the women, although I suppose they all have husbands as well. Try and be discreet about it. Like I said before, I’m going to be talking to a lot of them, so be careful how you poke around.”
Final Exam: A Legal Thriller Page 13
