Rescued

by David Rosenfelt

  “Does Kramer know her also?” I’m asking because if Carla and Kramer have any kind of relationship and it’s not revealed to the court, it might be something to use on appeal. It would be a long shot, and I certainly don’t want to be in position to have to appeal anything, but it’s worth filing away for possible future use.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Laurie says.

  “You didn’t triple date with her and the Marcuses?”

  “Andy,” she says, showing her uncanny ability to make my name sound like a reprimand.

  I decide not to talk to Carla yet; I want to know more about the case first. I’ll meet her at the arraignment but will hold off discussing particulars with her until I get a look at the discovery. She might expect us to try to plea bargain it down, but it doesn’t seem like Kramer is prepared to do that. And if he really killed Zimmer in self-defense, then I don’t blame him. Of course, that’s a big if.

  Besides, before I do anything else, it’s time to visit the scene.

  Usually, when I visit a murder scene, it’s my first time there. In this case, of course, I was at the rest stop where Zimmer died not long after it happened. I didn’t get on to the truck, but I’m hoping to do that today.

  Laurie comes with me, as she always does. She has a trained investigator’s eye; I have a trained lawyer’s eye. Which means I’m better at looking at depositions and briefs, and she’s better at crime scenes.

  The rest stop is closed and guarded by two cops when we arrive. I’m not sure what these two guys did to wind up getting stuck sitting at a rest stop in the heat all day, but my guess is they are not on the fast track for promotions.

  I had called Pete and gotten his approval to enter the scene. He was reluctant to give it, mainly because it goes against his grain to do anything for any defense attorneys anywhere. But he knew we could get permission from the court, and he also knew that if he refused, I would use it to show bias when I eventually get him on the witness stand.

  The truck is scheduled to be moved out of here in a few days; I’m told that the owner has been pushing to get possession back. I’m going to want to talk to him to learn whatever he knows about Zimmer and whether or not he has any insight into what happened here.

  The cops guarding the crime scene have been alerted to our arrival. They’re young guys who must be reasonably new to the department, which is why Laurie doesn’t know them. She’s been off the force for quite a few years now, so there is an increasing number of officers who she is unfamiliar with.

  The truck obviously hasn’t been moved and therefore is still positioned awkwardly in terms of parking. I can see fingerprint dust on the door to the restroom and on the truck’s door handle, but it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they found Kramer’s prints. We are not going to contend that he was not here; that’s not our defense.

  “Where did Dave park?” Laurie asks.

  “I’m not sure.”

  She nods. “Either way, the camera got him.” She points to a video camera above and to the left of the restroom door; there is no doubt that the truck’s door is in the range of the camera.

  “That’s obviously how they knew to go to his house,” I say.

  We climb the two steps to the entrance to the truck’s interior. I let Laurie go first. It has nothing to do with chivalry; murder scenes still creep me out. She shows no hesitation, and I follow her in.

  We walk all the way through, gingerly stepping over Zimmer’s dried blood and police chalk marks. We don’t want to mess anything up, though obviously the place has been thoroughly photographed and catalogued.

  The setup is excellent in terms of the dogs; there are at least seventy cages, all clean and comfortable, with cushioned dog beds and water dishes in each. The dogs were traveling in style, and whoever arranged all this cared about their comfort and safety.

  The truck is set up in three sections. Moving back from the driver’s seat, there is a room with maybe twenty cages on each side, and a fairly large open pathway between them. Then there is a large room with heavily padded walls. Beyond that is another dog area, this time with what looks to be at least forty cages. It is similar to the other dog area.

  “The padded area must be where they let the dogs out of their cages to play,” Laurie says. “The pads would prevent them from crashing into walls if the truck swerved.”

  “Makes sense to me,” I say.

  Laurie points to a partition near where the bloodstains are. “That’s where Zimmer hid before he attacked Dave. He came out of there swinging the knife. Dave backed away, probably just a few feet, and shot. The forensics should tell us how far away he was.”

  “The closer the better,” I say. If he shot from a long distance, that would impact our self-defense approach. You don’t fear for your life from a knife if you’re twenty feet away from it. We will have to deal with Kramer’s use of deadly force; the prosecution will contend that he could have just run off the truck, but he chose instead to fire at Zimmer. We’ll have to show that Zimmer was continuing to come after him.

  She nods. “Right. The knife isn’t here.”

  “I’m sure they took it to analyze it for prints and trace evidence. They’ll have taken pictures of it where they found it.”

  “Right,” she says. “And Zimmer’s prints will be on it, which works very much in our favor.”

  “Unless he was wearing gloves.”

  “In this heat?” she asks. “He wouldn’t have worried about prints, because he would have thought he’d be alive to ditch the weapon. And the prints will be compelling; there’s no logical reason for him to have been holding a knife like that, especially if it was lying on the floor, unless he was using it as a weapon.”

  “They could claim he grabbed it in self-defense or because he was worried about Kramer’s arrival. The fact is, a lot of these answers will be in the discovery,” I say. “But the knife does seem like a strange choice of weapon.”

  She nods. “I know. A gun would obviously have been more effective. And then he could have shot Dave when he got out of his car; there was no reason to let him get that close.”

  “Maybe he wanted it to be more personal,” I say.

  The truth is that the case seems fairly straightforward and the actions of the players uncomplicated. Zimmer lured Kramer onto the truck, tried to kill him, and came in second place. Now all we have to do is prove it.

  They had code names for each other—Brady and Rodgers.

  It was the idea of the man who took the name Rodgers, obviously a football fan, and a Packers fan at that. He was in charge, so he gave himself the name he liked best.

  Everybody that Rodgers dealt with had a quarterback code name, and Brady went along for a few reasons. There was no reason not to play along; it seemed like a harmless bit of drama.

  Another reason he went along was that Rodgers was calling the shots; Rodgers called all the shots. To cross Rodgers, to even express more than mild disagreement with Rodgers, was to take a great personal risk. Brady, it must be said, was generally risk averse.

  The final reason he went along is that Rodgers had already made him very, very rich.

  “He hired a lawyer named Carpenter,” Brady said when Rodgers called him. This was not exactly a revelation; Carpenter’s hiring was in the newspapers this morning.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Rodgers said.

  “I don’t have anything yet. But I’m worried.”

  “Carpenter won’t have anything to work with,” Rodgers pointed out. “You have nothing to worry about; your job is finished.”

  “I was surprised you didn’t kill Kramer,” Brady said. He said it cautiously in a tone that avoided judgment. He had to tread very carefully with Rodgers.

  “It could have worked out that way, but it didn’t. Doesn’t matter; this is just as good. Maybe better.” That was what he said to Brady, but the truth is he was very upset over the incident with Kramer. It was the man known as Manning’s doing, and it was a serious overre
action. Kramer could and should have been left alone; what happened called more attention to them, not less.

  He had told Manning that and insisted that any such actions be cleared with him in the future. Kramer was simply not a serious threat, at least not in the short term. And there would be no long term to worry about.

  “Okay, you know best,” Brady said.

  “Yeah. I do. All good on your end?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good,” Rodgers said. Then, since Rodgers could hear the nervousness in Brady’s voice, he added, “Relax. All you need to do is count your money.”

  Carla Westrum is really tall, at least six foot two.

  That’s the first thing I notice about her when she graciously comes over to introduce herself at this arraignment. Maybe it’s because height is becoming a recurring theme in this case. Kramer could be a shooting guard in the NBA, and Laurie, who is sitting just behind me, is five eleven and a quarter. Since I am about five ten with no quarter, I’m starting to feel like I’m walking among the trees.

  Carla is also quite attractive; not Laurie-attractive, but nobody besides Laurie is. Between the two of them and Kramer, I’m lamenting my lack of both height and good looks.

  I am reminded of a Twilight Zone episode in which everybody living in a particular place or planet was horribly ugly, except for one woman who was beautiful. But because of the prevailing standard, the beautiful one was considered ugly, and the ugly were revered as beautiful. It was a world in which everything was therefore reversed.

  Rod Serling, where are you now when I need you most?

  Fortunately, I don’t actually need old Rod, because I turn and see Hike sitting at the defense table, and I immediately feel better. I’m not alone.

  Carla tells me that the discovery documents are in the process of being transferred to us, adding that at this point the material is rather skimpy, because the case is just getting started. “Maybe it’s skimpy because you have no case,” I say, and she just laughs. It is not a worried laugh.

  She sees Laurie and brightens immediately. She goes to her and they hug and start to talk, probably making plans to get together after she sends my client to prison for the rest of his life. Then the judge comes in, and Carla goes back to the prosecution table, where the rest of her team is already in place.

  Kramer gives me a questioning look, no doubt curious about the Laurie-Carla reunion.

  I shrug. “They went to school together.”

  The judge is Arthur Avery, and while I won’t go so far as to say it’s a break for the defense, it certainly could be worse. I’ve tried two cases in front of Judge Avery, and I’ve found him to be smart and reasonably fair. He also is decisive; he makes rulings quickly, confidently, and usually correctly.

  But the most positive aspect of his drawing the case is he’s more willing than most judges to tolerate my bullshit. He doesn’t like me; they haven’t invented the judge who likes me. But he doesn’t seem to hate me as much as some of his colleagues, which gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling.

  We all rise when Judge Avery enters. He tells the bailiff to read the number and nature of the case and then turns the floor over to Carla. This is going to be a by-the-book arraignment, which is almost always the way it works.

  Carla recites the basics of the case, which consist of the fact that the State of New Jersey believes that David Kramer willfully and with premeditation caused the death of Kenneth Zimmer. She reveals that the charge is first-degree murder and asks that Kramer be held without bail.

  Judge Avery turns to us and asks how the defendant pleads. Kramer answers in a firm, confident voice, “Not guilty, Your Honor.” Judge Avery sets a date for trial, which is considerably sooner than I’d like, but I go along with it. This is a self-defense case and is relatively uncomplicated; I have no doubt we will be ready. If we’re not, it won’t be because of inadequate time to prepare.

  I raise the issue of bail, though we have no chance of prevailing. We can’t even argue that Kramer has never before been accused of a violent crime. Not only has he been convicted of assault, but it was an assault against the victim in this case.

  Judge Avery denies the request, as I warned Kramer that he would. The judge ends the arraignment with a quick pound of his gavel, and the bailiff comes to take Kramer away.

  Just before he leaves, he simply says, “Keep me posted, please.”

  I promise that I will.

  Hike tells me that the discovery documents, such as they are, should be at our office, so that’s where Laurie and I are going next. I want to see whatever forensic reports are available, as well as the photographs that were taken. We’re going to have to reconstruct the crime, based on this information, in a way that is favorable to our client.

  So Laurie and I head down to the office. Sofia Hernandez greets us at the entrance with an apology for the delay in fixing the air conditioner and a pound of cherries to make up for it. It’s a reasonable trade.

  But since it feels like it’s about four thousand degrees in the office, and since we have to pick Ricky up from his friend Will Rubenstein’s house soon, we load the documents into the car. This way we’ll be able to read them in air-conditioned comfort while I suck down the cherries.

  We get Ricky, and Will comes along also for a sleepover. It’s a misnamed event, since they rarely get any sleep. Tara and Sebastian love when both kids are at our house, since it means four hands for petting.

  We have dinner, and it’s almost seven o’clock when I settle in the den to go through the documents. First, I look at the forensic reports, which at this point are unremarkable. One thing in our favor is the information on the bullet’s entry into the body, where the casings were found, and the gunpowder residue.

  It should be easy to make the case that Kramer was less than five feet away from Zimmer when he fired the fatal shot. And that helps us in our claim of self-defense; he was well within range of Zimmer swinging the knife.

  There is no information about the knife in the forensics; that obviously has not been completed yet. But I’m very interested to know where the knife was found, so I start in on the photographs. There are seventy-five of them, a huge amount considering the murder scene was so confined.

  I’ve gone through all seventy-five before I am ready to accept one devastating fact.

  There is no knife.

  “That’s simply not possible, Andy.”

  That’s what I expect Laurie to say when I tell her about the lack of a knife in the photographs, and that’s exactly what she says.

  “I’ve looked through the photos twice, and it’s not there. You can look for yourself.”

  “Is it referred to in the forensic reports?” she asks.

  “I’ve only looked through them quickly, but I didn’t see it. I’m pretty sure the answer is no.”

  “How can that be?”

  “Well, maybe there was an accomplice of Zimmer’s there, and he chose to leave and take it with him,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “Doesn’t make sense, for a number of reasons. Dave didn’t see anyone else, and Zimmer’s accomplice would probably have helped him kill Dave rather than stand by while Dave killed Zimmer.”

  “Right. Another possibility is that the police removed it, to set up Kramer for the murder.”

  “Pete?” she asks, eyebrows raised. “You know better than that.”

  I nod. “Yes, I do. Which brings us to the option behind door number three.”

  Another shake of her head, this time more insistent. “No.”

  “Laurie, we have to at least face the possibility that there was no knife, that Kramer made the whole thing up.”

  “No,” she repeats.

  “The story didn’t make sense in the first place. Zimmer should have assumed that Kramer was armed, and at the very least, he should have known he’d be tough to handle. Kramer beat him up once before, remember?”

  “I’m not buying it,” she says.

  “Why? Because you like
him? Because you trust him? If you take your personal feelings out of it and look at the facts we’re presented with, you can’t come up with any other conclusion.”

  “I am looking at the facts. Dave is smart, and more than that, he spent most of his career in law enforcement. He knows how crime scenes are handled, and he would know that if he made up this story, it would instantly be exposed as bull. There would be no chance the story would be believed and, therefore, no upside in telling it.”

  It’s a good point, but I’m not going to accept it without a fight. “Maybe he panicked.”

  “Panicked?” she asks. “He didn’t get caught in the act and blurt something out. He would have had time to plan the crime, and then plenty of time afterward to make up a story. He practically invited the cops to arrest him; he left them a damn note. He had ample opportunity to come up with something much better.”

  “Will you admit it’s the most likely of our three possible explanations?”

  She nods. “I will, but that’s a low bar to go over. There’s a fourth explanation that we haven’t seen yet, and it’s the one that’s true.”

  I go back to the discovery documents in the hope that I will find phone records that show the contact between Zimmer and Kramer. Their meeting was set up; Kramer didn’t just happen to wander to the rest stop where Zimmer’s truck was parked. Kramer said that Zimmer had contacted him, and I need to confirm that it is true.

  It is significant in that if Kramer initiated the contact, we are in big trouble. It would be easy for the prosecution to argue that he did so to set up Zimmer to be killed.

  If Zimmer made the call, then he could have done so to set Kramer up so that he could kill him with the now-missing knife. Or he could have had another motive, and it might have been the revelation of that motive that caused Kramer to shoot him. If that’s the case, Kramer hasn’t revealed what that motive is. His position is that Zimmer lured him into a trap.