“What other illegal things have they done?”
“I’m speaking hypothetically. George, they didn’t kill anyone. It was a dispute over a wrecked car. They got their money from the Indian guy and then they sold the car to someone else. They’re clean. If you got evidence they did it, you’ll find it on your own. But I’m not going to help you.”
“How about this?” Hastings said. “As of now, I’ve got enough to charge them with assault. They threatened the Indian fellah with bodily harm if he wouldn’t pay them.”
“They didn’t threaten —”
“Now, he was pretty fucking scared of them. They showed up at his workplace demanding money. He didn’t give him that five hundred because he thought it was right.”
“That was a legitimate settlement of a legitimate dispute.”
“Sanjay Baya paid that money because he was afraid they were going to beat the shit out of him. That’s not what you lawyers call a meeting of the minds. That’s duress.”
“Aw, come on. He damaged their car.”
“You come on. You got a problem like that, you file it in small claims court. You don’t show up at the guy’s workplace like a couple of fucking gangsters.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“The district attorney may see it different.”
“Ah shit. So if they come in and talk with you and cooperate on this murder investigation, you’ll drop this ‘duress’ bullshit. Is that it?”
Hastings mumbled something that committed him to nothing.
They were both quiet for a while.
Then Morris said, “It’s not going to work, George. If you got a bona-fide criminal charge, you’ll file it. If you got evidence of a murder, you’ll file that. But I’m still advising them to remain silent.”
“Before you do that,” Hastings said, “don’t you think you should tell them what we talked about?”
“You mean tell them about your non-offer offer? I don’t think you have evidence of any crime.”
“But you can’t be sure. Tell you what, Morris. Find out where they were the night Johnny Rodgers was killed. If they’ve got solid alibis, get me affidavits and written statements and I promise to look them over with an open mind.”
“I don’t have to do that.”
“No. But you’d be helping them if you did.”
“More like I’d be helping you. All right, hypothetically speaking, if I do this for you, will you promise to leave them alone?”
“You know I can’t do that. I’ll have to confirm the alibis in person. And if I find out anyone’s tried to mislead me, I will be extremely disappointed.”
“I’ll block you, George. But I would never mislead you.” Morris Friedman sighed. “All right. I’ll think about it and get back to you.”
He discussed it later with Klosterman.
Klosterman said, “So they lawyered up on you.”
“Yeah. Morris may deliver though.”
“The duress threat worked?”
“Morris suspects it’s a lot of shit. And he’s probably right. If we took that to the D.A.’s office, they’d probably tell us to get the fuck out. But…Morris can’t be sure. He trusts me, though. I’ve never screwed him.”
“He had a thing for Carol, didn’t he?”
“I think he did, yeah. Carol likes him, but she was never attracted to him. We double dated with him and his wife a couple of times back when he was married. I think he’s been divorced three times.…On this thing, I think what he’ll do is go to his clients and try to get them to cooperate. If they’re clean, he’ll be glad to give me the evidence to get me to go away. If they’re not, he won’t give me anything. So…I guess it’s better than nothing.”
“A little better.”
“At one point, he said that if there was any other evidence against them, we would find it. I mean, he seemed to know we didn’t have anything. No witnesses, no physical evidence against them.”
“He’s right. We don’t.”
“And he figured something else out. That we really don’t have a motive. They got their money out of the car anyway. Why would they kill him?”
“I don’t know. To punish Johnny for trying to screw them? People have killed for a lot less.”
“I know. Insults and tennis shoes.” Hastings sighed. “Christ. You ever get what you think is a good lead and after you explore it you feel like you’re even more lost?”
“It happens.”
“Karen’s going to come to me soon and ask me if an arrest is imminent, and I’m going to have to say no and then she’ll give me one of her slow, very satisfied head shakes and I’ll have to restrain myself from losing my temper.”
“Don’t let it get to you, George. It’s there somewhere.”
Hastings called his ex-wife after he left the station. Eileen told him she was home and Hastings asked if he could drop by.
He hugged his daughter when he arrived. She was browned by the trip to Jamaica. She brought him to the kitchen table and showed him pictures on her personal computer. It lifted his spirits. George Hastings was not a man given to self-pity. He felt, on balance, that his life had not been bad and though he was not a religious man, he had always been grateful for having such a great kid. There was an easy, abundant, unconditional love between him and Amy. Which as it should be between father and daughter. Yet it had not been something he had had as a child. Hastings had always believed he’d got the better part of the bargain.
After a while, he put his hand on her head. “I’m glad you had a good time, Amy.”
“I did, Daddy. You look tired.”
“I’m all right, sweetie. Just had a long day.”
He excused himself from her and went to Eileen. “I’d like to talk to you and Ted alone.”
Ted Samster had always been uncomfortable around Hastings. That he felt guilt for taking Eileen away from him was a given. But Hastings had never confronted him for the sin. Never even raised his voice to him. If he felt anger for what Ted had done, he had never shown it.
Now they were in Ted’s den with the door closed.
Hastings said, “I’ve been thinking about Amy’s school. Where she wants to go is up to her. I don’t want her going to any school because it would please you two or because it would, I don’t know, raise her status or something. -- No, let me finish, please. If Amy wants to go to Country Day, then I’ll go along with it on one condition. I pay for half the tuition.”
Eileen and Ted exchanged glances.
Ted said, “George, that isn’t necessary. We can handle —”
“I know you can handle it, Ted. I know. I can handle my half too. Eileen’s never asked for alimony or child support and…well, I can handle it.”
Ted said, “George —”
“Those are my conditions. Accept them or I’ll fight you on this. And I know how to do it.”
Ted looked at Eileen again. She looked at George then back at her husband. Eileen understood both of these men and loved them both too. She nodded to Ted.
“Okay?” Hastings said.
Ted said, “Okay, George.”
Ted extended his hand for some reason. Hastings thought, oh hell, and shook it. He turned to see his ex-wife. She had that familiar mirthful gleam in her eyes.
Hastings said, “Shut up.”
It rained during the drive home. Hastings turned off the ESPN channel and let himself drift into thought as the windshield wipers moved back and forth.
He was glad to be out of Ted and Eileen’s house. He felt humbled there, having to be at another man’s house while he looked at pictures of his own daughter. He knew it wasn’t rational. It wasn’t Ted’s fault. Ted wanted to help Amy and Eileen. Terry had been right about that. It wasn’t even Eileen’s fault. All three of the adults wanted the best for Amy. Hastings had no reason to feel threatened by Ted or Eileen.
But he did. And even though the tuition dispute was now resolved, he still felt threatened. And now he was beginning to understand w
hy.
By offering to pay for all of Amy’s tuition, Ted had threatened Hastings’s role as a father. Ryan Bradbury, in turn, was threatening his position as a police officer. Like a lot of people, George Hastings’s identity stemmed from his profession. A police officer was what he was. If he was not a detective, he did not know what he would be. Maybe nothing. An ex-husband of a beautiful, neurotic woman. A father struggling to remain in his daughter’s life. A guy who came to St. Louis on a baseball scholarship and tried to build a life and ended up with something he didn’t plan.…A loser’s way of looking at himself. But cross examination sometimes evokes self-examination and even a little self pity.
In the adult life of George Hastings, there were two incidents that made him feel sorry for himself. One was Eileen leaving him. The other was when he got the medal of valor for shooting the kid. The divorce was no mystery. But he had never figured out why receiving the medal had got to him. Henry Brummell told him that maybe the medal was a stigma. But even now Hastings could not understand why it should be. He had not felt particularly ashamed for killing the young man. But then he had when he received the medal. It didn’t make sense.
Unless…
Unless the department had given him the medal for the wrong reason.
Hastings stopped the Jaguar in front of his house, turned off the ignition and wondered how he had not seen it before.
Was it possible the department thought he had shot Jason Durfee too soon? That it had not been a clean shoot? And, if that were the case, tried to cover up his mistake by awarding him a medal for valor?
But it was a clean shoot, he thought. Hastings had been there and he had never in his life questioned the necessity of it. Jason Durfee would have killed him in a heartbeat. Durfee had killed before. Hastings was convinced he was about to kill again.
Was it possible the department did not share that conviction? Say, more than possible? Maybe probable?
Shit. If that’s what it was…He had sensed it all along and that’s why he felt dirty about receiving the award. Brummell was right. It was a stigma.
Worse, Hastings had used the medal to further his career. Had listed it on his paperwork when he applied for sergeant and then later lieutenant. He had gone along with the sham. By now everyone had probably forgotten what it was for, except him. He was not so vain to think that anyone else would care about it. What would he do? Take the medal to Chief Grassino’s office and give it back? Chief Grassino would say, “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” Grassino hadn’t even been in St. Louis back then.
Now that he had figured that out, he wondered if he had overreacted not only to Ted but maybe even to Bradbury too. What was Ryan Bradbury to him? Bradbury could get a million dollar judgment against him and drive him into bankruptcy, but Bradbury couldn’t take away his badge. He didn’t have that much power. And if he did, he wouldn’t be able to get him terminated anytime soon. At least not in the next few days.
Which should be enough time to crack the Johnny Rodgers case.
Hastings brewed a pot of coffee and spread out the various reports, interview summaries, crime scene sketches, and photographs on his kitchen table. Klosterman had said, “It’s there somewhere.” Somewhere in all this evidence. It had to be. There was no way Johnny Rodgers and Aaron Peterson both committed suicide. They had been murdered. The question was, why?
The Bosnians.
The truth was, most of the St. Louis Bosnians were law abiding citizens. They were a fairly well behaved, productive community. Armin Moljevic and Viktor Kordic sold used cars. There was no evidence that their car dealership was a front for drug trafficking or for fencing stolen goods. Would they have killed Johnny Rodgers over a damaged vehicle? Could a prosecutor persuade a jury that they did?
The prosecutor could if he or she believed it. But you can’t ask a jury to believe something you don’t believe yourself. The problem was, any prosecutor worth his salt would want Hastings to persuade him of the Bosnians’ guilt first. And Hastings didn’t really believe they were guilty.
He would love to have evidence of their guilt. Because then he could clear his desk of this fucking thing. But it wasn’t there. And something else: Aaron Peterson’s car had been driven to the river and then the killer had walked away. There were no tracks showing another vehicle. If it had been the Bosnians, they likely would have used a second vehicle. Armin in one, Viktor in the other. One of them driving Peterson’s car.
If they did kill Johnny, why would they then have killed Aaron? Had Aaron witnessed something? Did Aaron have evidence against them? Aaron had said nothing to him about any Bosnians. Wouldn’t he have done so if he knew about them? Sanjay Baya was scared to death of them. Wouldn’t have Aaron been even more afraid? Enough so that he would have sought protection from the police?
You don’t have to prove motive in first degree murder. But the case itself has to make sense. The evidence has to be such that any jury with common sense could return a verdict of guilty. Common sense was working against the Bosnians.
Vincent Bugliosi, prosecutor extraordinaire, had once said that he could have convicted O.J. Simpson with only Simpson’s recorded statement to the police and a stack of legal pads. Pretty self-confident on Bugliosi’s part, but then he had earned the right to be. Sometimes the evidence was that simple.
Klosterman said it was in there somewhere.
Hastings wrote a few things on a legal pad:
Things we know:
Johnny Rodgers met someone named B.B. at the lake.
Johnny Rodgers owed a couple of tough Bosnians about five thousand dollars.
Johnny Rodgers’s computer is missing.
Johnny Rodgers’s apartment key was taken from him either before or after he died. Probably after.
Then Hastings wrote,
Things we can reasonably guess:
Johnny Rodgers didn’t have the money to pay the Bosnians.
Johnny Rodgers was anxious to pay the Bosnians.
Johnny needed money.
Johnny was sexually deviant
Johnny took a lot of pictures, which he stored on his computer
Johnny was a pretty seedy dude
Hastings examined his list. Probably number five belonged in the first category, things we know. Six did too.
Hastings looked at his watch. It wasn’t too late to pay her a visit. If he played it right, she might even be glad to see him.
Miranda Rodgers said, “I thought maybe you’d come back.”
“No kidding,” Hastings said. He wore a friendly smile, standing in the doorway of her home. She wore an orange and white kimono, showing some cleavage.
Hastings said, “Are the kids here?”
“They’re asleep. If I let you in, will you promise to keep quiet?”
“Sure.”
He followed her in and she shut the door behind him. She looked at him and didn’t smile. Just looked at him like she knew what he was all about. She liked being in control.
She said, “Do you want a drink?”
“If you’re having one.”
“Or I can roll us a joint. You don’t mind weed, do you?”
“Not really my thing.”
“Okay.” She gestured to the couch.
Hastings sat down. She stood behind the kitchen counter and poured wine into a couple of glasses. Then she turned out the kitchen light. Now there was only the light of one lamp in the living room.
She handed him his glass and sat next to him. She raised her glass and said cheers.
Hastings nodded.
She sipped her wine and pulled her legs up on the couch, tucking them at her side. Hastings had to consciously avoid looking at her upper thighs. She caught him not looking and chuckled.
“So detective, what can I do for you?”
“Well…it’s hard to say.”
“Just say it.”
“Well before I say…what it is I wanted to say, I wanted to tell you how sorry I was for the way I acted before
. I don’t think I was very nice to you.”
“You weren’t. But that’s okay.”
“And I wanted to tell you that your alibis checked out. I thought they would.”
“Did you.”
“Yeah. You’re obviously not the kind of person who would ever want to hurt someone. Yet alone kill them.”
“Well how nice to hear that from you.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“Forget it.”
He looked at her and she looked back at him. Again, she wouldn’t smile at him. As if she didn’t want to give him that.
Hastings said, “There is one thing I’m curious about.” He smiled uneasily.
“What?”
“What we talked about earlier. You said that you and Johnny used to videotape the two of you — together.”
“You mean in bed?”
“…yes.”
“Well you don’t have to get all nervous about it.” And now she did smile. “Yeah. Like I said, it was no big deal.”
“He made sure it was okay with you?”
“Of course he did.”
“What about when he videotaped you with other people?”
He wasn’t facing her when he asked her that. After he asked her, he turned to see her looking back at him.
Miranda said, “Who told you that?”
“A witness.”
“What witness?”
“Aaron told me.”
A long moment passed while he waited, waited in fear for her to call bullshit on him. She pulled the wineglass to her pale lips and then pulled it away. She said, “Johnny told Aaron about that?”
“Yeah.”
Miranda sighed. “That asshole.”
Hastings almost said, So it’s true then. But he stopped himself. He kept the prurient, nervous smile on his face and said, “Wow. That’s…that’s something.”
Bullet Beth (George Hastings police procedural) Page 19
