by Stuart Woods
“Councilman, this is actually very good news. James Glick is an excellent courtroom lawyer, which is why I assigned him to your son’s case, but Herb Fisher is a brilliant attorney and a partner in the firm. Trust me, you could not be in better hands.”
“So you say. He rejected the plea.”
“He what?”
“He rejected it. Against my express orders.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“It’s the first I’ve heard of it. I’m waiting for my son to come home a free man and he’s still on trial.”
“Relax. I’ll get to the bottom of this.” Bill Eggers broke the connection and called James Glick.
18
JAMES GLICK’S CELL PHONE rang on the platform of the Metro station. He’d been scared out of the restaurant by the two torpedoes and was riding the subway a few stops just to make sure they weren’t following him. He jerked the phone out of his pocket and glanced at caller ID.
It was Herb Fisher. That was a surprise. He’d half expected Herb to be at the bottom of the East River.
“James, it’s Herb Fisher. How’d the surgery go?”
“Great, great!” James blurted, his mind in chaos.
“So there’s no complications. You’ll be back in court tomorrow?”
“Oh. Complications. Yes. Well, the surgery went well, but I’ve developed a post-op infection, they’re probably going to keep me.”
“You’re not going to be in court?”
“Sorry about that, but you know how these doctors are.”
“No, I don’t know how these doctors are. This is not what I bargained for, James. I can’t handle a criminal case. You got me cross-examining the key witness, for Christ’s sake.”
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t you take the plea bargain?”
“The client doesn’t want it.”
“The client’s a kid. His father set up the plea bargain. It was all worked out.”
“The kid’s a legal adult. His father can’t plead him out.”
“You were supposed to make him want it.”
“You neglected to tell me that. Now I’m in court trying the damn case. The prosecution led off with the detective who found the drugs on the kid. If we can’t break that down, how do we beat the charge?”
“We cop the damn plea!”
“The kid didn’t take the plea. The detective testified. I’m asking him everything but his shoe size until you get back and take over, so you better get back and take over.”
“If the doctor says I can’t, I can’t. They got more rules here than the county pen.”
James Glick hung up the phone in mounting confusion. Taperelli wasn’t setting him up. Taperelli was telling the truth. The case hadn’t been settled. Herbie Fisher hadn’t taken the plea. The proof of that was that Herbie Fisher was still alive.
His cell phone rang again. He jerked it out of his pocket, checked caller ID.
Bill Eggers.
If he ever wanted to work again, he’d better take the call.
He clicked the button, adopted a weak, coming-out-of-anesthesia, barely-able-to-speak voice. “Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“I had surgery.”
“That’s what I hear. Not from you, the person I should be hearing it from, but from Councilman Ross. Do you know how stupid it makes me look when someone tells me something about my firm that I don’t know?”
“It was an emergency.”
“Are you going to be in court tomorrow?”
“If my doctor lets me.”
“What’s his name?”
“It’s a foreign name. And—”
James Glick’s heart nearly stopped. The two torpedoes had just come down the escalator and stepped onto the platform.
“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, dropping his phone on the concrete. He scooped it up, clicked it off, and headed down the platform.
There was no exit at the other end.
And the men were coming.
Before they reached him a train pulled into the station. The doors hissed open.
He tried to see if the men got on, but there were too many people in between.
James Glick was stuck. Getting on the train with the two men would be bad.
Being left alone on the platform with them would be worse.
James Glick took a deep breath and stepped inside, just as the doors closed behind him.
19
BILL EGGERS CALLED James Glick back, but James sent it to voice mail. He tried three more times before he called Herbie Fisher. By then he was somewhat worked up.
“Herbie?”
“Herb.”
“I’ll call you any goddamned thing I want. It’s my firm and I’m the boss. You may be a good lawyer, but you’re making waves.”
“The councilman’s kid?”
“You got any other case you’re fucking up? I thought you weren’t doing trial work.”
“I’m not. It was an emergency. I had to go to court.”
“All you had to do was show up. You shake hands with the ADA and the kid walks.”
“The kid didn’t see it that way.”
“It’s important. I need this handled.”
“Put someone else on the case.”
“I can’t put another lawyer on the case! I just got through telling the councilman you were the best we had. If I pull you off the case, Ross would have my head. We’d lose every client he’s ever shaken hands with, and he’s a politician. They shake hands a lot.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Get back in court and fix this.”
“How?”
“Get the kid to take a deal.”
“And if he won’t take it?”
“Start printing your résumé.”
20
DINO AND VIV were sharing a quiet moment in bed watching TV. It was a rare event that neither of them was busy. They’d spent the evening making love, and were enjoying the afterglow.
The phone rang.
Dino frowned at having his evening interrupted, but seeing Herb’s name on caller ID, he decided to pick up.
“Hi, Herb. Still worried about being shot at?”
“Hadn’t occurred to me. Do you happen to know a narcotics detective by the name of Marvin Kelly?”
“What about him?”
“Is he dirty?”
Dino blinked. “You call me up in the middle of The Daily Show to ask me if one of my detectives is dirty?”
“It’s not a casual question, Dino. I got fucked into handling a criminal case, and I’ve got a college-age kid facing jail time if I can’t save him, which I’m ill equipped to do. Kelly’s the key witness, so if he’s got a weakness, I need to know.”
“Is this a good kid?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want me to make a phone call, see if there’s something can be done?”
“The kid’s already rejected a plea bargain. I was supposed to walk into court and accept it, but the kid refused to accept the plea, says he’s innocent, and now I’m on the hook.”
“What was he caught with?”
“Half a kilo of coke.”
“What was the deal?”
“Two years’ suspended sentence, community service, and the kid walks.”
“Are you kidding me? And you kicked that deal in favor of badmouthing one of my cops?”
“I wanted to take the deal. The kid turned it down.”
“So beat some sense into him.”
“The kid makes a good case, Dino.”
“What’s that?”
“Why should he take the plea if he’s innocent?”
“What makes you think he’s innocent?”
“The fact that he won’t take the plea.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. What are you, a fucking idealist? We live in the real world, Herbie. Sometimes something is wrong and you can’t fix it. Sometimes you have to do something else so it evens out. Kid getting framed isn’
t fair. Kid walking on a drug charge isn’t fair. It’s a wash.”
“You want to come down to court and tell him to take the plea? Maybe hearing the commissioner of police explain the pragmatism of law enforcement would have more effect.”
“Fuck you, too, Herbie.”
Dino hung up the phone.
Viv was about to snap the TV back on when she saw the look on his face. “What’s the matter?”
Dino sighed. “Ah, hell.” He picked up the phone. “Sorry to bother you this time of night. Get me everything there is to know about a Detective Marvin Kelly.”
21
DINO MET STONE for breakfast. Stone had been surprised to get the call. He and Dino often had lunch or dinner, but not often breakfast. Stone figured Dino had something on his mind.
Stone had just taken his seat when Dino walked in, looking agitated.
“Do you mind if I have Herbie whacked?” Dino inquired.
“What’s he done now?”
“He called me last night to ask if one of my cops was dirty.”
“Is he?”
“I can have more than one person whacked, you know,” Dino said with a meaningful look.
“Who is he?”
“Detective Kelly, Narcotics.”
“Do you know about him?”
“I know about all my officers. That’s what being commissioner is all about.”
“I’ll see you get a letter of commendation.”
“I’d prefer a cash kickback.”
“May I quote you on that?”
“If you want your car ticketed and towed every time you park it.”
“Fred stays in the car when it’s parked.”
“Then you’ll also have to bail him out.”
“I get the feeling you’re bantering to avoid talking about Detective Kelly.”
“Good guess. Detective Kelly is the type of cop that gives other cops a bad name. It’s not just that he’s dirty. He flaunts it. He’s connected to Tommy Taperelli, a big-time mob boss. Does him favors, helps him out of tight spots, looks the other way. He has other unsavory connections, but Taperelli’s the biggest.”
“And you want to whack Herbie for asking if the guy is dirty?”
“Well, I can’t kill Taperelli.”
“What’s his story.”
“High-class mobster, big-time racketeer. He runs a trucking business and handles the import-export of a number of items, many of them legal. The few that aren’t fund the rest. He claims he’s not into drugs, but any number of the bosses he runs are. Meanwhile, he keeps his hands clean and has ties to several politicians and big businessmen. Prides himself on his connections. Conversely, prominent people pride themselves on being connected to him. Having a Vice cop in his pocket is no surprise. It’s his standard MO.”
“Did you tell Herbie?”
“Of course I did. He could get killed messing around with goons like Taperelli.”
“He’s got more sense than that.”
“He does now. I seem to recall him walking up to a mobster by the name of Dattila in broad daylight and shooting him twice in the head.”
“He was justified.”
“Yeah, and he’d be dead if the police hadn’t raided the place and disarmed all of Dattila’s men an hour before. Herbie didn’t know that, and he did it anyway.”
“He’s a different person now.”
“He’s engaged to a hooker … again.”
“Why’s he still in court?” Stone said, sidestepping Dino’s point. “I thought he was just filling in for one day.”
“The lawyer had complications that are keeping him in the hospital. Herbie’s on the hook.”
“What’s Detective Kelly to him anyway?”
“He’s the witness Herb’s going to cross-examine.”
“Herbie’s going to walk into court and try to prove he’s a bad cop?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Is that safe?”
Dino shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”
22
HERBIE GOT TO court to find that reinforcements had arrived. Unfortunately, they were not in the form of James Glick, but rather his client’s father, who seemed more likely to horsewhip the boy than offer any source of comfort. The councilman managed to tear himself away from haranguing his son long enough to demand why Herbie had rejected the plea bargain he had worked so hard to set up, whereupon his son jumped in saying he was the one who had rejected it, and the whole merry-go-round began again.
• • •
HAVING OBSERVED HERBIE’S entrance into the building, Mookie went outside and called Taperelli. “The lawyer’s here.”
“Which one?”
“Fisher.”
“What about Glick?”
“He’s not here.”
“Shit.”
“His name’s Herb.”
“What?”
“The lawyer. His name’s Herb Fisher.”
“Right.”
Taperelli already knew that. He’d called the firm first thing in the morning and asked for an attorney named Fisher. The switchboard girl said, “We have a Herb Fisher, but he’s not in yet.” Taperelli had hung up, hoping that meant the man was coming into the office and not going to court. No such luck.
“You want me to talk to him?”
“Fisher?”
“Yeah.”
“Not in court. When they break for lunch.”
“Should I lean on him?”
“Depends what he does in court. If he keeps stalling, give him a talking-to. If he takes a dive, let him go. If you’re not sure, call me.”
“Gotcha.”
“Whatever you do, call me.”
“What if they decide to take a plea?”
“Shoot him in the fucking head.”
23
HERBIE WAITED UNTIL his client’s father had taken a seat in the gallery before resuming his place at the defense table.
Before he could even sit down, David tugged him by the sleeve. “I thought of something.”
“What’s that?”
“The detective testified that he searched me and found the cocaine. Like he found the envelope, and took it out of my pocket.”
“Yeah. So?”
“That’s not what happened. When he put me under arrest he told me to empty my pockets. I did. I took the envelope out of my jacket pocket.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. So if my fingerprints are on it, that’s why.”
“Interesting.”
Judge Buckingham took his place on the bench and regarded the defense table with some displeasure. “Well, Mr. Fisher, it appears you are still with us. I trust you are prepared to soldier on.”
“I will do my best, Your Honor.”
“God save us.”
Judge Buckingham gaveled court into session. The bailiff brought in the jury, and Detective Kelly returned to the stand.
“Detective, I remind you that you are still under oath. Proceed, Mr. Fisher.”
Herbie stepped up to the witness stand. He felt rather small. The detective looked arrogant as ever, and the judge was doing little to conceal his bias. And now he had the disapproval of the councilman boring into his back.
“Detective Kelly, do you consider yourself an experienced detective?”
“I do.”
“You’ve busted people for drugs before?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you’ve testified in court on other occasions?”
“That’s right.”
“You feel that you would have an opinion in these matters that the jurors could trust?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then let me ask you this—do you think the defendant is innocent?”
Detective Kelly was startled. He could hardly believe Herbie had asked him that. He paused before answering. “No, I do not.”
“You think he’s guilty?”
“Yes, I do.”
“On what do you base that
opinion?”
“On the evidence that I collected as a veteran police detective.”
“On the evidence that you collected? Good. Let’s look at that evidence. I believe you found an envelope with packets of cocaine in the defendant’s jacket.”
“That’s right.”
“Did you find any fingerprints on the envelope?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And whose fingerprints were they?”
“They were the fingerprints of the defendant, David Ross.”
“Did you find anyone else’s fingerprints on the envelope?”
“No, I did not.”
“You found only the defendant’s fingerprints?”
“That’s right.”
“Indicating that he was the only one who had touched that envelope?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you find the defendant’s fingerprints anywhere else?”
Detective Kelly frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Pertaining to the case. Did you find his fingerprints on the packets of cocaine inside the envelope?”
“No, I did not.”
“You found no fingerprints at all?”
“On the packets, no.”
“Getting back to the envelope. As I recall your testimony, you asked him to empty his pockets and he refused, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Then you placed him under arrest and searched him. Did you take the envelope out of his pocket?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Then why aren’t your fingerprints on it?”
“I’m a veteran detective. I don’t contaminate evidence.”
“Were you wearing gloves? I wouldn’t think so, because you were undercover at the party, and gloves are pretty much a dead giveaway. I would think you were barehanded when all this was happening, were you not?”
“I was barehanded until I was aware of a crime. When I was, I pulled on a pair of gloves which I had in my pocket, and processed the evidence.”
“And you became aware there was a crime when you found evidence of drugs in the defendant’s pocket, did you not?”
Detective Kelly said nothing.
“Well, if you had reached in his pocket with your bare hand, your fingerprints would be on that envelope, would they not? I suggest, Detective Kelly, that when you placed the defendant under arrest, you ordered him to empty his pockets and he did, in fact, comply. He reached in his pocket and took out the envelope, which he was surprised to see there. Is that perhaps how it happened, Detective Kelly?”
