by Stuart Woods
So was he.
86
JAMES GLICK SPOTTED them from the glass elevator he was riding down from his tenth-floor room in the Hyatt Regency. They were at the front desk checking the registration. At least that’s what it looked like. One guy was distracting the desk clerk while the other was surreptitiously checking out the register. He could swear the guy was leaning over the counter to look at the computer screen.
And there he was, in a glass elevator, heading right into their arms.
He flailed out his hand, pressed a floor at random. Mezzanine. That was good. Anything that wasn’t Lobby.
He got off the elevator and leaned over the mezzanine balcony to get a closer look.
These guys were different. They didn’t look like the guys he had been mistaking for goons ever since he got on the Amtrak express. These were the real thing. They looked tough, mean, and they carried themselves differently, with the effortless authority that came with power.
And they didn’t have suitcases. A dead giveaway. He’d realized that after getting a few funny looks himself. After that he’d bought a carry-on suitcase to blend in. But these guys clearly didn’t care.
James Glick knew he was just being stupid. It was the same thing all over again. These guys would turn out to be businessmen there for a convention. They’d left their suitcases in their car while they checked in. And they wouldn’t take the elevator to the tenth floor to check on him, they’d get off on six, where they were staying.
He watched them get into the glass elevator and tried to tell himself it was just his imagination. Then one guy stooped to tie his shoe, and his jacket fell open, revealing his shoulder holster.
James Glick shrank back in horror. As soon as the elevator passed the mezzanine, he ran to it and watched the floor indicator. Sure enough, they got off at the tenth floor.
James Glick was breathing hard. There was an exit door at the end of the corridor. He pushed it open, thundered down a flight of stairs, ran out the door of the Hyatt, and hailed a cab.
87
HERBIE CALLED STONE on his way back from Strategic Defenses.
“What’s going on?”
“They broke for lunch.”
“How did it go with the detective?”
“Fine. He’s off the stand.”
“What did he say?”
“He said no one told him David would be at the party, he heard drugs were being sold there, and when he checked it out the person selling them was David.”
“What did you do?”
“I challenged him with his previous testimony, got him to admit he was mistaken, and asked him what other portions of his testimony he was unsure of.”
“I told you to let him go.”
“I let him go. I just didn’t do it with a pat on the back.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“Why did you ask him the question in the first place?”
“Oh. Well, he’s framing my client, so he’s lying about everything. And he’s not too careful about it, because Taperelli’s pulling the strings and the case is a slam-dunk. So I went over the transcript to see if he had made any stupid mistakes. Sure enough, right off the bat he says he was acting on intel David Ross was selling drugs at the party, which is total bullshit. No one told him David was at the party. He probably didn’t even know about the party. In all likelihood he was following David around looking for a place to set him up. The party seemed like a good bet. So who told him David Ross would be at the party is a tough question to answer, because nobody did.”
“That’s good reasoning. You present your case that well to the jury, you just might get your client off.”
“Fuck you, too, Stone.”
“I get your logic. I mean why did you ask the question if you don’t care about the answer?”
“I asked the question to shake him up. Who told him David would be at the party? Well, he’s either got to name someone else who is in on the conspiracy, which is nice to know, or he has to admit he made a mistake.”
“He opted for the mistake. I would have liked to exploit it.”
“You did fine.”
A car went by.
“Are you still watching TV?”
“Yes. So where are we now?”
“The prosecution called a corroborating witness, an undercover officer who was at the party.”
“Good. Don’t ask her anything. Just let her go.”
“Herbie, what’s going on? Are you giving up on the case?”
“Not at all. We’ve been going about it all wrong. The jury’s heard nothing for days but that detective saying David Ross is a druggie. Now we’ve got another detective who’s going to say the same thing. It’s giving the prosecution the advantage. We’ve got to stop playing defense.”
“I get the strategy, but I’ve got to ask her something so it doesn’t look like we’ve thrown in the towel.”
“Okay. Ask her about the arrest. When the detective told David to empty his pockets, did David reach in and get the envelope, or did the detective take it out of his pocket? That will tell us if she’s part of the frame-up. If she says David got it, she’s clean. If she insists the detective took it out of his pocket, she’s in on it, and she’s parroting the talking points.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I thought you read the transcript. It’s in there.”
“Don’t piss me off, Herbie. What’s actually going on?”
“Relax. I’ll try to make it.”
Herbie clicked the phone off and stepped on the gas.
88
DETECTIVE BROGAN CALLED Dino back. “We got it!”
“Oh?”
“It’s only the camera across the street, and it’s not from a great angle, but you can see two men entering the garage on foot shortly before eight o’clock on the night of the murder.”
“Can you identify them?”
“No. Like I said, it’s a bad angle. You don’t get a shot of their faces. But they’re big guys, and they look like thugs. And as far as we can tell, they snuck in.”
“How do you figure?”
“They waited until the attendant was down the block. Somehow they distracted his attention. I don’t know how, but there’s video of him coming out of the garage and hurrying down the block. Right after that the two guys come from the opposite direction and enter the garage hugging the wall, just like a guy would have to do to avoid the video cameras.”
“Can you send me the video?”
“I’m on it. But you’re going to see what I see. The back of two guys’ heads. Nothing distinctive about them, except they’re two big, solid guys. Dark, nondistinctive clothing. Nothing much to make an ID.”
“They’re the only ones who entered the garage?”
“They’re the only ones who entered the garage on foot. Anyone could have driven in.”
“Did any cars drive in while the attendant was down the street?”
“No. It was only a minute. The guys went in, the attendant came back. He didn’t miss them by much, but he missed them. Aside from that, cars went in and out, but they belong to people who live in the building because the attendant knew them.”
“Okay. Send me the video.”
“You want to see it now? I’ll share it with you in Dropbox.”
Dino had barely hung up the phone when his e-mail beeped. It was a message from Detective Brogan (via Dropbox). Dino clicked on it and got a blue rectangle inviting him to View File. He clicked on that and got the video.
Brogan was right. There was no way to tell who the guys were, but they looked like thugs, and they looked like they were sneaking into the garage.
Dino sat back in his chair and scowled.
Much as he hated to admit it, it was looking more and more like Taperelli had Yvette killed.
89
HERBIE GOT BACK to Manhattan, returned the rental car, stopped by his apartment to drop off the gun, and took a cab to court. He ran down the corridor and came striding thr
ough the door to find the jurors in place, the undercover policewoman on the stand, and Judge Buckingham in the process of inquiring whether the prosecuting attorney was ready to resume questioning.
The judge broke off and held up his hand. “One moment, Mr. Prosecutor. I see the other defense attorney has decided to grace us with his presence. Mr. Fisher, did you forget what time court convenes?”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Herbie said. “I’m ready to go. Don’t let me hold you up.”
“I’m afraid it’s a little late for that. Ladies and gentlemen, stay where you are. If you would indulge me for a few minutes. Mr. Fisher, in my chambers, if you please.”
Judge Buckingham turned and stalked off. Herbie had to run to catch up.
As soon as the chambers door closed behind them, Judge Buckingham rounded on Herbie. “Mr. Fisher, when you started these shenanigans I looked you up.”
Uh-oh.
“It would appear you have been in my courtroom before. The reason I didn’t remember you is it was not as an attorney. You appeared for disturbing the peace, resisting arrest, and assaulting a policeman.”
“Your Honor, I fail to see that my police record has any bearing on these proceedings.”
“It does not. Only it would appear to explain your utter disdain for the law. It’s seldom that an attorney has appeared in my court with such an adversarial attitude, not just toward his opponent but toward the judge himself. I did not understand your personal animosity until your record came to light. Perhaps it explains why almost every aspect of your presentation borders on contempt of court.”
“That was not my intention, Your Honor. I must say I find this warning irregular at the very least.”
“It’s not a warning, Mr. Fisher. I thought it only fair to let you know that I have become aware of the fact that we have a history.”
“Well, I’m sure that it won’t color your judgment any more than it will color mine.”
Judge Buckingham’s eyes narrowed. “Your remark borders on insolence.”
“That’s a bad sign. I was trying to show respect.”
“I’m in no mood for joking, Mr. Fisher. If I thought your unorthodox behavior was in any way precipitated by our past history, I would take a dim view.”
“I understand, Your Honor. Say no more. Believe me, I am as eager as you are to conclude this trial.”
Herbie smiled and gestured to the door. “Shall we?”
• • •
AS THEY RESUMED their positions in the court, Stone Barrington whispered, “What was that all about?”
“He doesn’t like my attitude.”
“Who does?” Stone said.
Judge Buckingham gaveled court to order. “Court is in session. The witness is on the stand. Mr. Prosecutor, do you have any further questions for this witness?”
“No, Your Honor.” Grover turned to the defense table. “Your witness.”
Stone Barrington started to get to his feet, but Herbie stopped him. “I’ve got it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes.”
Herbie approached the witness. It was the first time he’d gotten a good look at her. Julie Parker, despite her youth, appeared to be an experienced and competent undercover detective.
“Ms. Parker, when did you first become aware of the defendant?”
“Detective Kelly pointed him out.”
“By name?”
“No, as the man he’d observed selling drugs. He told me to check him out.”
“What did that entail?”
“I was to get next to him, bump into him, apologize, and smile. The usual.”
“Let me ask you this. Were you there when Detective Kelly searched the defendant?”
“Yes, I was.”
“And did he remove an envelope from the defendant’s pocket?”
Parker shook her head. “He did not. The defendant reached in his pocket and took out that envelope.”
“Thank you. And you say Detective Kelly pointed the defendant out to you?”
“That’s right.”
“How long had you been at the party before he did so?”
“It was right after I arrived.”
“You weren’t there, staking out the party?”
“No. Detective Kelly called for backup.”
“So when you showed up, he had already spotted the defendant?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you witness any of the transactions Detective Kelly testified to? When the defendant and other students left the room?”
“No. I was just there for the bust.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
The witness was stunned.
So was the judge. It took him a second to recover. “Any redirect, Mr. Grover?”
The prosecutor was also caught off guard. “Ah, no, Your Honor.”
“The witness is excused. Call your next witness.”
“Yes, Your Honor. If you will forgive me, I had expected cross-examination to take all afternoon.”
“Clearly, it didn’t,” Judge Buckingham said dryly. “Call your next witness.”
“Yes, Your Honor. The prosecution calls Felix Weintraub.”
No one came forward.
Grover glanced around nervously. “Ah, if I might have a brief recess. I believe he’s in the building.”
“Then find him. We’ll wait.”
ADA Grover dispatched a law clerk to fetch the witness. As the young man hurried up the aisle, Stone leaned over to whisper to Herbie, “Why didn’t you follow up with the lady cop?”
“I got what I wanted. She isn’t part of the frame-up. She’s cleared on several counts. She contradicts what Detective Kelly said about taking the envelope out of David’s pocket, she didn’t see any of the alleged transactions, and she doesn’t claim she was staking out the party.”
A bald, bespectacled man bustled through the back door and down the aisle.
ADA Grover’s face broke into a relieved smile. “Here’s Mr. Weintraub now, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Proceed.”
Felix Weintraub qualified himself as a fingerprint expert, and testified to finding the defendant’s fingerprints on the envelope containing the packets of cocaine.
When it was his turn, Herbie asked, “Did you find anyone else’s fingerprints besides the defendant’s on that envelope?”
“No. Just his.”
“That’s all.”
Grover called the chemist, for the quantitative analysis of the cocaine in the envelope.
Again, Herbie asked only the most perfunctory questions.
ADA Grover, having ripped through his case in record time, asked for a recess to decide if he wanted to put forth more evidence or rest his case.
Judge Buckingham was scowling as he left the bench.
90
STONE CALLED DINO during recess.
“Herbie’s in court.”
“How does he seem? Like last night?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think he spent the morning with a therapist. God knows he could use it.”
“Is he ripping into the witnesses again, or is he letting you handle them?”
“Neither one. He’s insisting on taking the witnesses, and he’s giving them the lightest cross-examination you ever heard. He asked the undercover cop what she was told to do. She testified to bumping into David, apologizing, and smiling at him. And he didn’t even ask a follow-up.”
“I imagine you’d have had some further questions.”
“Herbie didn’t. He let her go. He asked the fingerprint expert a couple of questions establishing that David’s fingerprints were on the contraband, and left it at that.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. And when the chemist testified as to the purity of the cocaine, Herbie asked him if it was pretty good shit.”
“He didn’t.”
“Well, he didn’t use the word shit, but it was in that vein. I tell you, Herbie did a better job of making the prosecution’s case than they did.”
“You think Taperelli threatened him?”
“He’s certainly acting like it.”
“I bet that’s it. There’s a chance Taperelli’s men killed Yvette after all.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“The surveillance cameras in the back stairwell were out that night. Someone cut the feed to the whole circuit just before the murder. It was cut in the garage, and, apparently, it’s possible to get into the garage on foot without appearing on camera.”
“Is there any way to tell if anybody did?”
“We have surveillance video of two men entering the garage on foot shortly before eight o’clock on the night of the murder.”
“Can you identify them?”
“No, the angle’s bad. But they look big, like thugs, and they appear to be sneaking in. It’s clear from their posture they don’t belong.”
“What about the boyfriend, Dressler?”
“He might have come along after, found her dead, and robbed the place. It makes more sense than him killing his accomplice while she was still setting up the sting.”
“You think Taperelli killed Yvette, Herbie knows it, and that’s why he’s throwing the trial?”
“I don’t know, but I mean to find out. If that’s the case, Herbie could be in a lot of trouble.”
“How do you want to handle it?”
“I’m going to put a man on Herbie. Just because he’s doing what they told him doesn’t mean he’s safe.”
“I’ll feel better if you do. Something’s going on.”
• • •
WHEN THEY RETURNED from recess, ADA Grover announced that after due consideration, the prosecution was resting their case.
“Very well,” Judge Buckingham said. “The defense will put on theirs. It’s a little late in the day to begin, but we have made good progress today, so let’s adjourn until ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Jurors are reminded once again not to talk about the case. Mr. Fisher, please see me in chambers. Court is adjourned.”
