Fourth Wall (An Anthony Carrick Mystery Book 8)

by Jason Blacker

  “What about Gudaitis then? You’re not concerned that he’s going to jail on a conspiracy charge just because he won’t give you up.”

  “Cliff can make up his own mind. If you think you’ve got anything on him, but I doubt it.”

  “What if he talks?”

  “Talks about what?”

  “About how you got him to go along with murdering his three friends.”

  “I doubt he’d consider them his friends,” said Penman.

  Roberts shook his head.

  “If you’re not willing to confess or acknowledge what you’ve done, why the hell haven’t you just called for a lawyer already?”

  Penman looked up at him and smiled.

  “Because I’ve enjoyed talking with you, John,” she said. “And I like wasting the city’s dime. But one thing I will tell you, is that you know nothing of my life.”

  Roberts looked at her for a while.

  “I understand that a horrible thing happened to you, and I’d like to help. I understand why you murdered those three, and I don’t think you deserve life in jail. But unless you help me, I can’t help you, Gina.”

  “Oh God, this is just so tedious. You sound like my old high school counselor. God only helps those who help themselves. Jesus, where is God when the shit’s going down?”

  Penman exhaled forcefully and slid her cup of coffee away.

  “You know what, John,” she said. “I think I’ll ask for that lawyer now.”

  Roberts looked at her for a long while. She held his stare for a while before looking down at her hands on the table chained together with silver LAPD issued bracelets.

  “Alright,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

  Roberts got up and gathered his pad and pencil.

  “Could you leave that for me to draw with?” she asked. Roberts hesitated. “Please.”

  Roberts left the pad and pencil for her and walked out the door.

  “Shit,” he said, under his breath, and felt the inside of his trouser pockets for cash. He had enough to pay Carrick the Jackson he was sure he now owed him.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  And the Little One Said, Roll Over

  I watched Labecki from the observation deck for a little while after I’d left Roberts to Penman. He’d started to get me nervous. But as I looked through the one way mirror and stared at Labecki and his lawyer, my fears were put to bed. Labecki was as nervous as a used car salesman at the end of an empty month. He was twitching and fidgeting like soldier ants were climbing all over him. His lawyer sat quietly by his side. Then he leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Labecki nodded and seemed to calm down. I took that as my cue.

  I wasn’t sure how I’d lead when I got in. I was thinking of the stern but kind school principal. You’re in trouble kid, but I’m here to help. Just tell me what happened and we’ll work it out together. You and me. Something along those lines. I opened the door and entered the room. I had barely closed it when Labecki spoke.

  “I’m ready to talk,” he said, looking from me to his lawyer and back again.

  I knew his lawyer by reputation and personal dealings. He was a short man. Maybe five six and wiry. He wore a goatee and a shaved head. His dark blue suit was tailor-made and his red tie was dimpled. He was around sixty and was known colloquially as The Pitbull. If one of my cases had gone off the rails in court, it was most likely because The Pitbull was defending the douchebag. His name was Michael J. Cano. He was one of those assholes who liked a middle initial. I had a begrudging respect for him. He was honest, and in his own way he was a seeker of justice. He was just on the other side of my fight. He was also a great boxer. He had fought at lightweight and had twice won the gold at the Pan Am Games in seventy-nine and eighty-three. So I was delighted when Labecki blurted out he wanted to talk. I took a seat opposite them.

  “Hello, Anthony,” said The Pitbull, “it’s good to see you again. It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?” He smiled at me and I thought it was genuine.

  “Probably at least a few,” I said.

  “When did you leave the job?” he asked.

  “Oh two,” I said.

  He nodded slowly, turning his mouth upside down.

  “Wow, almost fifteen years then. LAPD lost a good one. I always knew I’d have my work cut out for me if you were the charging officer. I’m afraid to say it’s gotten easier for me now.”

  “Roberts is good,” I said.

  Cano nodded.

  “Yeah, but he’s Captain. He’s not in the trenches as much anymore. Anyway, I’m here to give you the golden goose. My client wants to tell you all he knows about your case. But he wants a deal. He wants to walk free.”

  “Depends on what he has to say, but you know that’s not up to me. It’s up to the DA.”

  “I know, I’m letting you know. I’ve spoken with Ms. Eleleta Gabriel. She’s onboard. But what we do now is videotaped statements so that there can be no interpretation of the facts.”

  I looked around. I knew this, but I hadn’t brought a recorder in with me. There were two in the observation deck I had noticed. But in fairness to my lack of preparation I wasn’t expecting things to go quite so smoothly.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  I left to get the video recorder. I was back in under three minutes. Labecki and Cano sat in silence as I set up the video recorder on its tripod. When I was ready I sat back down. The video recorder was recording. I was just about to start when Cano stood up.

  “You don’t mind if I just verify you’ve got my client in frame?”

  He wasn’t asking. So I watched him as he went round to my side and looked at the small flip out screen that showed what was being recorded. Both he and Labecki would be center frame. Cano was satisfied and sat back down. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my notebook.

  “Today is Tuesday the twenty-first of June two thousand and sixteen. Outside Consultant Anthony Carrick interviewing suspect Mr. Kyle Labecki related to the triple homicide case with Los Angeles Police Department case number 908446731. It is oh eight hundred and seventeen hours. Mr. Labecki is represented by his lawyer Mr. Michael J. Cano.”

  I paused to see if Cano or Labecki wanted to add anything to the intro. What I was really doing was gathering my thoughts. Cano looked at me without speaking. Labecki looked like he was eager to jump right into the deep end. So I figured I’d open the door for him.

  “Mr. Labecki,” I said. “You’re charged with conspiracy to commit murder in the death of Ms. Mary Beale. We have an eye-witness who has you paying a Mr. Farold Beggs to buy six Pommie brand Pomegranate juice bottles from Britain’s Best on Beverly Drive. This occurred at around sixteen hundred and twenty hours on Friday the twenty-seventh of May two thousand and sixteen.”

  Labecki went to speak, but Cano put his hand on his shoulder to silence him.

  “These same bottles of pomegranate juice were found to be laced with both arsenic and ethylene glycol, proving fatal to Ms. Beale after she had consumed two and a half of them. This same ethylene glycol and arsenic is believed to have been shipped to your residence on Monday the ninth of May two thousand and sixteen. Records indicate it was received on Tuesday the seventeenth of May two thousand and sixteen. The credit card used to purchase these poisons and have them shipped to your home was the same one that you gave to Mr. Beggs to use to buy the six bottles of Pommie…”

  “But that’s not…” said Labecki, stopping short when Cano put his hand back on his shoulder.

  “Let him finish,” said Cano.

  “This same credit card used to both buy the poison and the bottles of juice into which the poison was deposited belonged to Mr. Lavan Emmett. We know you were at Mr. Emmett’s residence on Friday the sixth of May which was the opening night of the play that Ms. Beale was acting in. The play being ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’. You were invited to the after party and that is when we believe you stole the credit card to purchase the Pommie bottles of juice and the poison which was
used to murder Ms. Beale.”

  I stopped. It was now time to hear what Labecki had to say. There was more of course, but I thought this would put the fear of God in him. It didn’t look good for him at all. Though I had no doubt that he was likely an innocent party to all of this.

  “Very thorough, Anthony, very thorough indeed,” said Cano.

  “That’s just the preamble,” I said, “there’s more if you’d like to hear it.”

  “More circumstantial evidence?” he asked.

  “You know how jurors love circumstances. Especially when those circumstances walk them to the right conclusions.”

  Cano smiled and nodded.

  “Indeed. Alright, my client will tell you exactly what happened and everything that he knows.”

  Cano looked over at Labecki and nodded at him.

  “Start from the very beginning,” said Cano.

  Labecki nodded and cleared his throat. Then he looked up at me.

  “Okay,” he said. “As you probably know, Gina Penman is my daughter.”

  I nodded. Labecki looked down and continued.

  “When I was twenty and struggling with my, uh, identity, I dated a young woman I’d met while we were both waiting tables at a restaurant called The Silver Spoon. She was a lovely woman and although we’ve long since lost contact I do understand that she has done well for herself which is what I had hoped for her. I had just started trying to get into acting.”

  Cano looked over at Labecki and encouraged him to move along.

  “Right,” said Labecki, picking up on the hint. “As I was saying, this woman and I dated for a while…”

  “What was her name?” I asked.

  I knew her name of course but if you don’t have to share knowledge with a suspect or witness it’s best not to. You want them to give you as much as they can. This helps in ensuring the veracity of their testimony.

  “Her name was uh, Lis, Lisette Lockhart,” said Labecki.

  I nodded.

  “Well, we got along like a house on fire and one thing led to another and she got pregnant. Now I’ve had other girlfriends over the years, or beards, but none that I’ve slept with.”

  That was all irrelevant I thought, but I let him continue. It was his story after all.

  “When was this?” I asked.

  “Nineteen eighty-two. We had both decided well in advance that Lis was going to put the baby up for adoption. I mean we were young and I don’t think it would have worked out well for us to have kept her. From what I now understand, Gina, whom we hadn’t named, found a wonderful couple. Gavin and Melissa are their names. I’ve had the opportunity to meet them. Good hardworking people. He’s an electrician and she’s still a teacher, I believe.”

  I nodded, it was almost a nodding off head bob, but I wanted to be polite.

  “Well, I didn’t think much of it, but about fourteen years ago, when Gina turned eighteen she got in contact with us. Lis was less than thrilled with that, and I think only once met with Gina to tell her not to bother her again.”

  “She wasn’t happy to meet her first child?” I asked.

  “Well, I don’t think it was exactly like that. I think she’d just settled into a new life with a good husband and two kids of her own and I think she’d tried to bury the past far behind her.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Anyway, I was happy to meet with her, and we’ve been seeing each other every so often since then.”

  “Did she threaten to out your little secret?” I asked.

  “Well, one time she did, about ten years ago, we got into an awful argument. She was fighting with her adopted parents and she wanted to come and stay with me. I told her it wouldn’t work and that’s when she threatened to go to the papers. I didn’t think she was serious so I let it go. I also told her that I had other secrets that might be deemed worse than that.”

  “That you’re homosexual?” I asked.

  Labecki nodded.

  “Yes. Anyway, after that argument between us we didn’t see each other for a couple of years. And it kept gnawing at me, the fact that I was not living my life honestly. So finally, about eight years ago I came out of the closet so to speak, and what a relief. Of course it didn’t help my career any, but by then I was in my mid-forties and my best days as an actor were already behind me.”

  “But you didn’t come out about Gina Penman being your child?” I asked.

  Labecki shook his head.

  “No, I didn’t. It’s not that I’m ashamed or embarrassed about it, it’s just that I don’t believe it is only my secret to share. If she wants to tell, I’ll support her and I’ll not shy away from the truth, but it’s up to her now.”

  “So you’re saying that all these things you’ve done on her behalf have not been coerced?”

  “No, not at all. But listening to you twist them into some sort of conspiracy has got me worried, that’s why I want to give you the truth of it all.”

  “And I’m listening.”

  “Well, it’s like this. Gina gave me Mr. Emmett’s credit card to buy the Pommie juice because she said that Mr. Emmett had asked her to do it as a favor. She told me that she couldn’t do it herself on account of her being so busy, and she asked if I would do it for her. I said sure.”

  “But then why try and hide it by getting a bum to do the buying for her?”

  “Well, Gina had told me this horribly sad story about Mr. Farold Beggs and how he’d been this very successful businessman in New York before the towers fell. She said it had affected him badly and he’d gone off the deep end. She said that all he needed was some cash and a helping hand to make a good start of it all again. She gave me the thousand dollars and asked me if I could get him all cleaned up. She thought that giving him this helping hand would help him get back on his feet. I know in hindsight it sounds quite preposterous, but she had me convinced. You’ve met him…”

  I nodded.

  “There you go. I mean the story she told me of him is true. I thought it might help him get back on his feet. She also said she was helping him out and would be sure to look out for him after as well. I know what it’s like to be down on your luck, Mr. Carrick. We all need a leg up from time to time, you can’t fault me for that.”

  I didn’t say anything. I was wondering if Roberts was watching in the box as his Jackson was burning a hole in his pocket.

  “You have to understand. I’ve only known Gina as a kind and shy woman. I had no idea. I mean, I still struggle to believe that she’s behind all of this. I can’t understand what her motives might be. She volunteers a great deal at the women’s shelter, so this story about Mr. Beggs seemed very plausible. And as her father I was happy to help.”

  “And Mr. Beggs’ backstory is true, though it’s not a shower and a shave that he needs help with,” I said.

  “Yes, well, call me naive but I believed it. I haven’t had a lot to do with the mentally ill,” he said.

  “Okay, so Beggs bought the juice and then what?” I asked.

  “I waited for him outside and then got it from him. He seemed quite happy. I asked him if he was going to see Gina, and he seemed a bit confused. I asked him to promise me he’d see Gina again and get straight. He did. He promised me. But I guess he didn’t know Gina, or at least not that well, and he probably just wanted to get rid of me. Gary was waiting for me in the car and so we left.”

  “Do you deny receiving a package on the seventeenth of May?” I asked.

  Labecki looked at his lawyer who encouraged him to carry on.

  “No, I don’t. But it wasn’t addressed to me. Gina had asked if she could have a package sent to my address that was for her grandmother. She said that her grandmother was coming from out East and had sent herself some things and she wanted to know if I could receive the package on behalf of her grandmother. She said it wouldn’t require a signature or ID.”

  “And what was her grandmother’s name?”

  “Carrietta N. White,” said Labecki with a straigh
t face.

  “And you don’t know who that is?” I asked.

  I noticed that Cano was smiling. Labecki shook his head. He looked from me to Cano and back again and furrowed his brow.

  “I assumed it was Gina’s grandmother.”

  “It’s not,” I said.

  “Then who is it?” he asked.

  “The protagonist from Stephen King’s novel ‘Carrie’.”

  “Jesus, really?”

  I nodded.

  “How stupid am I. But then again, I don’t really read Stephen King’s novels. I don’t care for the horror genre generally.”

  “Did you not find it odd that Gina didn’t have the package sent to her?” I asked.

  “No, not really. She told me as she was asking for the favor that she couldn’t trust her super at her apartment if he got it as he was too nosy. She wanted someone she could trust for her grandmother’s things.”

  I nodded my head slowly. Seemed like Penman had thought through a whole lot of the scenario to set the scene.

  “And you didn’t investigate the package?”

  “No. Of course not. It was a shoe sized plain brown box that gave no indication of the contents of it. And as I’m home most days, I received it personally.”

  “It gave no indication of the contents then?” I asked. “No fragile, or breakable or anything like that?”

  Labecki shook his head.

  “Nothing like that.”

  “And when did she come by to pick these things up?”

  “The next day. On the Saturday. I guess that would have been Saturday the twenty-eighth of May?”

  I nodded.

  “And she was quite happy when she came over. She thanked me profusely for accepting the package and for getting the Pommies. She was like that. Very gracious and kind.”

  “She didn’t seem nervous or agitated?”

  “No, she didn’t. She stayed for dinner and then Gary drove her home. I asked her what was in the package. She said her grandmother hadn’t told her. I even asked if I could meet her grandmother, but she said she wasn’t sure. I mean I understood, I had only met her adopted parents a handful of times over the decade. They weren’t particularly warm to me. And I can understand why.”