Barely Legal

by Stuart Woods

“That’s the one.”

  “The lawyer skipped out?”

  “Or it’s just another stalling tactic. We’ll know at two o’clock.”

  “I don’t want to wait till two o’clock.”

  “I know, but what can we do?”

  “The judge really issued a bench warrant?”

  “Yeah. There’s cops looking for him.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No kidding. You can’t compete with cops.”

  “Damn. The guy skipped out. I wonder what happened.”

  “You talked to him yesterday. Maybe you leaned on him a little hard.”

  “You’re saying it’s my fault?”

  “Of course not. But you’re an intimidating guy. Maybe he got scared.”

  “It doesn’t add up. He shouldn’t have run.”

  “Well, he’s not here. The kid’s here with no lawyer. So what do you want me to do? I can’t lean on him if he’s not here.”

  “He got any close friends?”

  “He’s got a girlfriend.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I followed her the other night. He met her for drinks, walked her home, kissed her good night.”

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Find out. Find out who she is, find out where she works. Keep tabs on her till I tell you different. We’ll get to him through her.”

  “You got it.”

  Mookie left court and headed for the Upper West Side.

  48

  STONE BARRINGTON WAS planning a dinner menu. So far it was a dinner for four, but it was for Saturday night and there was still time to add guests. At the moment it was him, a dinner companion to be named later, and Dino and Viv, and he hadn’t even asked Dino and Viv yet.

  But all that was incidental. What was important was the food. Stone was considering caviar when Joan poked her head in the door. “Do you know a Councilman Ross?”

  The name sounded familiar, but not for any reason Stone could put his finger on. “Can’t say as I do.”

  “He says it’s about Herbie.”

  “I’ll take it.” Stone picked up the phone. “Yes, Councilman, how can I help you?”

  “Herb Fisher mentioned you. Said you were great friends.”

  “We are indeed, and I can give him the highest reference if you’re looking for an attorney.”

  “He’s already my attorney! He’s representing my son.”

  The councilman’s name clicked in Stone’s mind. “Ah, yes, I do seem to recollect that now that you mention it.”

  “He didn’t show up in court this morning.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Herb.”

  “It’s true, nevertheless. The judge issued a bench warrant, and no one can reach him.”

  “Thanks, Councilman. I’ll take it from here.”

  Stone got off the phone and called Dino. “Hey, Dino, I just got a call from Councilman Ross, the father of the kid Herbie’s representing. Herbie was a no-show in court this morning, and the judge issued a bench warrant.”

  “What!”

  “No one can find him. Can you circumvent the usual missing persons bullshit and see if he’s been taken to any emergency room? I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Shit. I should never have told him about Taperelli.”

  “Do you think Taperelli might have done him harm?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll call you back.”

  Half an hour later, Dino was on the line again and said flatly, “He’s in the drunk tank.”

  “What?”

  “Charged with murder.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I wish I were. The victim’s his fiancée, Yvette.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  “Nothing. He’s been in and out of consciousness. I had him transferred to a private cell and he’s sleeping it off.”

  “He’s drunk?”

  “Or drugged. He reeks of liquor. He was found in bed with the victim, naked and holding the murder weapon. Who knows what he’s going to say when he wakes up.”

  “I’m on my way.” Stone slammed down the phone. “Joan! Tell Fred to get the car!”

  Fred broke all speed records getting downtown. Stone had no problem seeing his client. Dino had paved the way.

  Herbie was sitting on the edge of his bunk, groggy and distraught. He looked up at Stone with tear-stained eyes. “They read me my rights. They say I killed Yvette.”

  Stone calmed Herbie down the best he could and went to hunt up the ADA in charge of the case.

  The ADA turned out to be Dierdre Monahan, with whom Stone had a history. She leaned back in her desk chair and cocked her head. “Hi, Stone. What can I do for you?”

  Deirdre Monahan and Herbie had a long and bumpy relationship. She’d been the ADA of record in several of his arrests, including the murder of the mobster Carmine Dattila. She’d actually done Herbie a favor in that case, suggesting he claim self-defense. Which was pretty nice of her, considering the patrolman Herbie had kicked in the balls during one of his other arrests happened to be her brother.

  “Let’s get real here, Monahan. You know and I know Herbie didn’t do it.”

  “I know no such thing. He was found in bed with the victim. He was holding the murder weapon. And, yes, there is gunpowder on his hand, showing he fired the gun. I’d go so far as to call this one a slam dunk.”

  “This wasn’t some casual one-night stand. Herbie was in love with her. They were engaged. Why would he have killed her?”

  “Why does anybody kill his girlfriend? Jealousy? Drunk rage? It’s not inconceivable.”

  “It is when the man in question is Herbie. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Tell that to Carmine Dattila.”

  Stone shot her an impatient look.

  Deirdre sighed. “He was drunk, Stone. He could barely stand up.”

  “He’s been drugged. I want a blood test and a Breathalyzer.”

  “Little late for a Breathalyzer.”

  “Come on, this is serious. Herbie stood up in open court yesterday and asked a witness if he was being manipulated by Tommy Taperelli. I don’t know if you’ve had any dealings with Mr. Taperelli, but he does not take kindly to insinuations of that manner. Retaliation is not unexpected. I wouldn’t put it past him to frame Herbie for murder. That’s kind of a tough break for a young attorney trying to do the right thing, particularly when it isn’t even his goddamned case to begin with.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Stone told her the details of David Ross’s case, including the suspected connection between Tommy Taperelli and Detective Kelly.

  “Detective Kelly, huh?”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Not personally.”

  “But you’ve heard something about him.”

  “Nothing I care to be quoted on.” Monahan frowned. “You really think this is the result of Herbie’s interference in Taperelli’s business?”

  “I know Herbie didn’t do it.”

  “Well, go ahead and bail him out. Dino’s already fast-tracked him to be released on his own recognizance.”

  “Good talking to you.”

  ADA Monahan smiled. “Anytime, Stone.”

  49

  DINO BACCHETTI FLASHED his ID at the doorman at Herbie’s building. He needn’t have bothered. The guy recognized him from TV and was all too happy to send him upstairs.

  Crime scene techs were processing Herbie’s apartment. Photographs had all been taken and evidence was being bagged and labeled. Dino strode around the apartment and assessed the work.

  The martini glasses Herbie and Yvette had drunk from were still on the end tables. The rim of one was marked with lipstick—Herbie had clearly drunk from the other glass. Dino pointed them out to the nearest tech. “When you bag those martini glasses, make sure you tag which is which.”

  The man wasn’t going to say anything to the commissioner of police, but
clearly wasn’t happy being told how to do his job. “Of course. It’s standard procedure.”

  “Just make sure.”

  Dino proceeded to the bedroom, where he saw the lead on the case, Detective Brogan. He knew the man to be hardworking and by the book, but lacking in creative thinking. The two men shook hands, and Dino turned his attention to the room.

  The crime scene unit had tagged a bullet hole in the headboard. The bullet itself had been dug out and bagged for ballistics.

  Dino pointed it out to the detective. “Could the bullet have been fired from where the suspect was found?”

  “Sure could. Practically a direct line.”

  “He missed the decedent by three feet.”

  “That’s right.”

  “While sitting next to her in the bed?”

  “Apparently.”

  “So he either shot her point-blank while she was sitting next to him in bed, killing her instantly, and then fired another shot, missing her by three feet, or he fired a shot, missing her by three feet, and instead of jumping out of bed and running for her life, she sat there looking at him waiting for the coup de grâce.”

  The detective shrugged. “That’s what a defense attorney will say.”

  “Yeah,” Dino replied, clearly unimpressed.

  Seeing he had flubbed and eager to score some points with the commissioner, Brogan changed the subject. “There’s evidence the victim’s body was moved.”

  “Oh?”

  “Drops of blood near the front door. It’s possible he shot her there and carried her into bed.”

  “And arranged her on the pillow, and took another shot at her and missed? Then he got in bed, lay down, and went to sleep?”

  “I’m not saying that happened. I’m just saying the blood near the front door indicates the body may have been moved.”

  “You got samples of that blood?”

  “You bet.”

  “Carry on, Detective,” Dino said.

  Dino moved on and continued searching the apartment. In the bar he found the evidence of either Yvette or Herbie mixing the drinks. The melted ice from the cocktail shaker was long gone, but the shaker itself was still on the counter. Dino ticked it off as more evidence to be bagged.

  In the wastebasket at the end of the bar, a single tissue was crumpled up. It stood out because the wastebasket itself was so clean. Dino fished it out, put it on the bar. He spread the paper with his fingertips.

  Inside was a tiny screw-top vial. Inside were a few drops of liquid. He waved at the crime scene tech he’d seen earlier. “Yeah?”

  “More evidence to bag.”

  The man came over and looked.

  “This was in the wastebasket.”

  The man looked pained. “I’d have gotten there, Commissioner. I have to label everything. I can’t cherry-pick.”

  “No one’s criticizing. I’m just looking for anything we can expedite.”

  Dino continued his once-over of the apartment. In the walk-in closet he found the empty cash box and the empty jewelry case.

  Dino shook his head. The poor detective was going to think he was really picking on him.

  Dino raised his voice. “Detective Brogan? I found something I think you’ll want to see.”

  50

  HERBIE WAS STILL wobbly on his feet, but between them, Fred and Stone were able to muscle him through the door of Stone’s Turtle Bay town house.

  Joan looked up from her desk as they came in. “Oh, my,” she said. “Do I take it we’re going to have company?”

  “Herbie’s going to be staying with us for a while,” Stone said. “His apartment’s a crime scene, and he wouldn’t be comfortable there anyway. You want to help Fred set him up in the guest room? I need to call Dino.”

  Dino was eager for an update. “You get him out of there?”

  “No problem. Well, actually one problem. The ADA is Dierdre Monahan.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Indeed.”

  “How’s Herbie?”

  “Distraught. He’s still pretty out of it. When they read him his rights, it’s the first he’d heard that Yvette was dead. He’s still not sure he didn’t do it.”

  “You mean he got taken in by the evidence, just like the cops?”

  “No, I mean he’s so drunk or drugged or whatever he doesn’t remember anything. What about the crime scene? Is there anything that doesn’t point to Herbie?”

  “There’s some evidence of a robbery. I’m running it down.”

  “Do that. It would be nice to have something to tell him when he wakes up.”

  Stone was just getting off the phone with Dino when Joan came downstairs.

  “He’s out like a light. We gave him a pair of your pajamas and put him to bed. He was out before his head hit the pillow.”

  “There may be people looking for Herbie. If anyone calls, there’s no need to bother him, just take a message.”

  “Of course,” Joan said.

  “There’s no reason to say where he is.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Some of these callers may be official.”

  “I understand.”

  “I don’t want you to lie to the police.”

  “What if they ask me where he is?”

  “You don’t know.”

  “But I do know.”

  “When we’re done here I’m going to have Fred take Herbie to a safe house where he can hide out. Or I might not. I haven’t decided yet. You won’t know which. So if anybody asks if you know where Herbie is, you can honestly say that you don’t.”

  “What can I tell them?”

  “I’m Herbie’s attorney. You can always get a message to him through me.”

  “What if they want to talk to you?”

  “Put them on hold and call me.”

  “In other words, standard procedure. Okay, I got it.” Joan started out. “Do you want me to have Fred get the car?”

  “No.”

  51

  MARIO PAYDAY ACTED as if the postman had mislaid the mail. “This is most distressing.”

  “I know,” Carlo said.

  “He’s not at court, and he isn’t home.”

  “No, and he’s not in jail. He’s been released.”

  “So what is the point of putting pressure on an individual if the person in question can’t be found? Kind of a waste of effort if you ask me.”

  “There’s a bench warrant out for his arrest.”

  “I thought he was arrested.”

  “That was for murder. This is for failure to appear in court.”

  “The gentleman has no end of trouble. Which does not mean I intend to stand at the back of the line.”

  “Trust me, we’re on it. The minute he surfaces, he’s yours.”

  “You just can’t tell me when that will be. Well, I suppose it was too much to ask.” Mario waggled his cigar, blew a smoke ring. “I’m famished. Let’s see how things look after lunch.”

  52

  JUDGE BUCKINGHAM SURVEYED the gathering in his chambers with displeasure. “The defense attorney has been arrested?” he said incredulously.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” ADA Grover said. “When the officers attempted to serve the bench warrant, they discovered that Mr. Fisher was already under arrest.”

  “For murder?”

  “That appears to be the case. We’re still trying to sort it out, but apparently Mr. Fisher was found with a dead woman and the murder weapon in his hand.”

  “I hardly think this is the place to get into the merits of that case,” Stone Barrington said.

  “And who are you again?” Judge Buckingham said.

  “Stone Barrington, Your Honor. Attorney for Mr. Fisher, appearing in his stead. I think you can understand why he is unable to be in court this afternoon.”

  “You are using a murder arrest as an excuse for his failure to appear in court?”

  “It beats ‘the dog ate my homework.’”

  “So where does that leave us?”r />
  “I believe we are entitled to a mistrial, Your Honor.”

  ADA Grover nearly gagged. “A mistrial? Because the defense attorney killed someone?”

  “Well, the defendant can hardly get a fair trial under the circumstances. Jurors are apt to hold Mr. Fisher’s arrest against him.”

  “What do you propose, Mr. Barrington?”

  “If Mr. Barrington would care to take over as defense attorney, we would have no objections,” ADA Grover said.

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t, since I’m totally unprepared and know absolutely nothing about the case. But if you adjourn until tomorrow, I suspect Herb will be able to return.”

  “What are we going to tell the jury?”

  Stone considered. “To say the attorney’s been arrested would be highly prejudicial. There’s no way to continue after that.”

  “What do you want to tell them?”

  “Court’s adjourned until tomorrow. What more do they need to know? They’ll grumble a bit and go home.”

  “And what’s going to happen tomorrow morning?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Fisher’s misunderstanding will be straightened out and he’ll be back on the case.”

  “Misunderstanding?” ADA Grover said sarcastically.

  Judge Buckingham said, “All right. I’ll adjourn court until ten o’clock tomorrow morning, at which time Mr. Fisher better be here. If he’s not, he better be in jail. If he’s not, he soon will be.”

  53

  JOAN STUCK HER head in the door. “There’s a Detective Wallace calling.”

  “What does he want?”

  “Herb Fisher.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him I’d take a message. That didn’t seem to thrill him, so we went through the rest of the dance. Then he asked to speak to you.”

  “Then I better speak to him. Thanks, Joan.” Stone picked up the phone. “Stone Barrington. May I help you?”

  “This is Detective Sergeant Wallace of the NYPD. I’m looking for Herb Fisher.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’m Mr. Fisher’s attorney.”

  “Where is Mr. Fisher?”

  “I’m sure I couldn’t tell you.”

  “I have a bench warrant for Mr. Fisher.”

  “Have you served it?”

  “No.”

  “Then it isn’t binding. Come back when you’ve served it.”

  “Don’t think you can give me the runaround, Mr. Barrington, just because you’re friends with the commissioner. Impeding an officer of the law in the course of carrying out his duty is a criminal offense. It carries a jail sentence.”