Eye of a Needle

by Lee Perry

  Josh Ketchum’s jaw dropped and she continued, “And just to be thorough, I’m going to have your father exhumed.” Claude said nothing but his eyes fleetingly flashed open wide as he glared at the tabletop. “So we can look for the trace carbon elements that are left behind when someone is killed by succinylcholine…” She sighed and leaned her elbows on the table, “He was a diabetic, it would have been easy enough to make him unknowingly inject himself with it. What do you suppose an autopsy will find?”

  “My father was a lazy piece of shit…”

  His lawyer laid an arm on him, “Claude….” he cautioned.

  “I raised my brother and sister,” he muttered through tightly clenched teeth, “not him! Our mother was obsessed with getting checks from Helga Lynch… Then she forced all of us to get MBA’s from Harvard. She never once asked what we wanted from our lives! She wouldn’t even buy us our own houses!” Josh pulled on his arm and he yanked it away, “Apartments only! She said we had to earn enough to buy our own house just like she did.” He shouted, “What bullshit!” He slapped his hand on the table, “My mother was an asshole, but it isn’t proof I killed her!”

  “Claude,” Jordan murmured, “Gary confessed.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He snarled, “Did he tell you he helped me? He wrapped her in that rug, frantic to keep her bleeding nose from soaking through the carpet and on Madame’s precious parquet floor. It was his idea to get the garbage barrel and roll her down to his car…”

  Josh hissed, “Will you for chrissakes shut up!”

  Claude whirled on him, “Don’t you fucking know anything? This is how you cut a deal!”

  “He confessed to going with you to dump the body,” Jordan said quietly, “mostly because he was afraid you’d screw it up and he was still determined to protect Helga Lynch’s privacy.” Her grin was sardonic, “And to cover his own ass, I’m sure.” She waited a moment before asking, “So why sux?”

  He sighed heavily, staring at the wall behind her, “I used to stand across the street from that building,” he said, ignoring her, “and just stare at it. How could anyone have so much… and just walk away? I’m not stupid; I took computer science in school…. The email address is listed on the building’s website and once I hacked the building manager’s email account it wasn’t too hard to hack their security cameras.” His snort was condescending, “Their passwords were lame, but I still needed a way in. One day I saw her exit the building and I followed her into a liquor store, thinking I could maybe get some useful gossip.” He smiled, shaking his head, “I had no idea she worked for that old bat, in her apartment! It was fate, you know? We started dating and she got me in. But when Gary caught us in one of the rooms… in flagrante delicto…” He flashed Jordan a feral smile, “We had a man to man talk… and I knew… I knew he was an easy mark: the unhappy and broke, broken man who hated his ex. He forgave so much working for that old woman; it wasn’t hard for him to say yes to a fifty percent cut from every piece I took.”

  Jordan didn’t want to interrupt his flow but he stopped talking so she risked a gentle prompt, “You didn’t need Brenda anymore.”

  “That’s right, and she knew it.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, exasperated, “That fucking cunt. I said I wanted to break up and we had a fight and I didn’t hear from her again. Working with Gary I could pick up the art whenever I wanted and I only went at night.” He shook his head and snorted in loud contempt, “Except that one time… except for the Rodin. I was busy and had to drop by during the day when I picked up that piece and she saw me. She tried to make me stop and talk to her but I ran out.” He shrugged, “Then she saw me one day when I stopped for beer. She was walking to the subway and acted like we were old friends.” He briefly pressed his lips together in a fine line of annoyance. “Said her roommate moved out and she needed money for rent. I said I was sorry to hear that and she said maybe I should think about that for a minute. Said she reported the Rodin theft and when she talked to the FBI about it she was vague and said she didn’t know who the thief was.” He looked at her, sneering, “But maybe she could remember more now and call them back.” A tiny mean smile plucked at his lips, “I said I had to make a stop at an ATM… I pretended to make up with her and offered her a ride. I got some cash and drove her home.” His voice dropped and he stared at the tabletop with half-lidded eyes, “When she tried to kiss me I said…” He snickered, “I said wait a minute and reached in the backseat…” He chuckled some more, “She must have thought I was reaching for a rubber or something but I grabbed a five pound free weight I had from the gym and hit her with it. I didn’t have a lot of room to hit her right and when she screamed I choked her.”

  “And then you injected her with succinylcholine…” Jordan added, “to make sure she was dead before you dumped her body at her apartment, where you knew there were no security cameras.”

  The laughter died on his lips and he sighed, leaning back in the chair, “So,” he muttered, “I told you what you want.”

  “Yes?”

  “Will it get me off?”

  “I hope not,” Jordan said drily, “and given the glut of evidence we already have I don’t know if you can get life without parole.” She sniffed, “We already know about the free weight, Claude; you left it in your car…” His smug expression slowly faded and she added, “Brenda’s blood and hair was still on it.”

  “What?” He exploded, “But I…”

  She stood and glanced at Mr. Ketchum, “When you get a real attorney I imagine he or she will try to work a deal with the D.A.” She shrugged, “You might get one, I don’t know.” She gathered her tablet and papers, “If he does and you manage to get life without parole instead of the death penalty then I’d say that’s a pretty good trade considering the lives you took.” She turned and nodded to the recording tech, “Please keep recording until the room is empty.” When she opened the door, two agents stood waiting and she stepped aside, “Please take him back to Holding, I don’t want him to miss his bus to Rikers.” She left and took the first door down the hall and entered the observation room where Catherine and Stewart were watching through the one-way mirror, “And that’s what?” She asked.

  Catherine’s smile was brilliant, “That’s Jenga!”

  Epilogue

  “The world is full of fools,

  And he who would not see it should live alone and smash his mirror.”

  - Claude Le Petit, 1686

  New York City, NY

  “So how many rooms did she use for storage?”

  “Four.” Mattie led the way through the apartment, “Although as unbelievable as that sounds, the fourth room is an empty bedroom filled with some life-sized statuary I think she didn’t care for.”

  Jordan muttered, “So why keep them…”

  Mattie whispered, “They’re homely, but valuable.”

  They rounded a corner and Mary waved to them from an open doorway, “Hey, I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna’ make it.”

  “Sorry,” Jordan apologized, “traffic was a pain.”

  “Thanks for waiting.” Catherine craned her neck, peering into the room, “You found it in here?”

  “Yes, we did,” she gestured, “after you.” She followed Mattie, Jordan and Catherine inside, “This is the second storage room we searched.” She added, pointing, “It’s against the far wall…”

  “It sure is.” Jordan marveled at the rolled red carpet, carefully sealed in a large clear plastic bag.

  “This is exactly how we found it.” Mary said as she followed them across the expansive room and pointed to a dark corner, “it was lying against the wall with this row of wooden crates pushed against it. Clearly, the intent was to hide it.”

  “He certainly rolled it up very neatly before sliding it into the bag.” Mattie said, “Gary was nothing if not meticulous in his care for Helga’s things.”

  Mary chuckled, “He made my job a lot simpler.”

  “And the carpet fibers will
definitely match?” Jordan asked.

  “Preliminary comparisons say yes,” Mary nodded, “but the mass spectrometry findings will make it conclusive. Neither the fibers collected from Gary’s trunk or from this rug from her mother’s bedroom are nearly as old as the antique furniture she had in there. I think both area rugs were purchased at the same time, at this point I’ll just throw out a guess and say in the 1940’s.” She turned to her, “Did you ever find out what happened to the one they rolled the body in?”

  “Gary said they stuffed it in a dumpster at a fast food place on the way back… so that’s lost in a landfill somewhere. Doesn’t matter though; we have all the evidence we need.” Jordan grinned, “Thank you, Agent Fielding.”

  She gave her a slight bow, “You’re very welcome, Agent Hawkins.” She said drolly.

  Jordan took some pictures of the rug with her phone before following Catherine, Mattie and Mary into the hallway again.

  “Did you find a digital trail for the murder weapon?” Mary asked.

  “Yep,” Mattie said, “Claude entered the sale on his spreadsheet along with the other works he stole. The guy he sold it to bought a total of seven items from him, and it turns out the buyer was already wanted for some egregious art fraud, so he’s in custody too.”

  “Wow.” Mary snorted, “Nice snowball effect.”

  “It gets better,” Jordan, said, “we had the body of Hannah Babcock’s husband exhumed; his death certificate stated he died of complications from diabetes but our autopsy determined conclusively he was killed by succinylcholine. So Claude Babcock killed his father too and now he faces three capital murder charges.”

  “But he agreed to fully allocute so he won’t be facing the death penalty.” Catherine said, adding, “He should be grateful.”

  Mary hooked a thumb over her shoulder, “I gotta’ go downstairs and get my cart from the van.”

  “Okay,” Jordan gave her a pat on the back, “thanks again for all your hard work, Mare.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “I’ll bet you and Mattie thought it would never end.”

  “I know I did…” she grinned at Mattie as she headed for the front door.

  Catherine turned to her, “Can you give us a tour?”

  “Ah, finally,” Mattie grinned, “you bet.” She took them to the first art gallery, walking past art worth millions before stopping, “Look familiar?”

  Unconsciously, Catherine’s eyes went right to the open female genitalia on Helga’s recovered Rodin, “Lord,” she muttered, her face coloring deeply, “I’m even more embarrassed seeing it in person.”

  Jordan and Mattie laughed and Jordan gave her a nudge, “Forgot how explicit it was, didn’t ya’?”

  “Come on, I’ll show you her bedroom.”

  They chatted amiably, regarding the spectacular views of Central Park and the paintings and dioramas they passed.

  “I’m still stunned Claude had enough skill to write that code.” Catherine said, “He created a hyperlink that gave him direct access to this building’s security cameras with one click. And he did a good job writing code that both kept him hidden and covered his tracks while he was deleting security video and files from Gary’s hard drives.”

  “Gary said he always let him in the rear entrance to avoid the doorman in the front lobby, and Claude was always careful to delete video of himself entering and leaving every time he came to steal a new piece.” Jordan draped an arm around Catherine’s shoulders, “But you busted him on that and you positively identified him as the forger of those electronic checks for that money he stole from Helga’s account.”

  “That was the…” Mattie frowned in concentration, “uh, online account he created in his mother’s name?”

  “Yes.” Catherine nodded, “Although finding that wasn’t difficult considering he kept a folder on his desktop labeled, Bank Accounts.” She muttered, “A monkey could have found that.”

  Jordan whispered drolly, “She means me.”

  “No, I don’t!” She elbowed her, shoving playfully.

  Mattie emitted a quiet, exasperated sigh, “Claude just thought he was all that didn’t he?”

  “He sure did.” Jordan agreed, remembering Jeffers’s smirk in the courtroom, “Claude is just one more deluded fool who likes to think he’s the smartest guy in the room everywhere he goes. If he was so smart he would’ve tossed the sculpture he used to bash in his mother’s head in the river instead of selling it.”

  “I guess he’d gotten away with so much at that point he felt invincible.” Mattie shrugged, “Greed so often trumps brains.”

  “And this time, at least, greed was their undoing.” Jordan scoffed, “All of them. Carroll Campbell had a significantly screwed up sense of morals too; the pedophile rationalizing and justifying stealing money and jewelry from Helga and letting Marvin Womack die.”

  “I don’t think Gary Tauscher and William Stiger started off as bad guys,” Catherine leaned in close to Jordan and wrapped an arm around her waist, “but they sure made bad choices based on their relationship with a wealthy old woman; Gary felt justified stealing and selling art, he felt, Helga would never see again. Stiger was loyal to Helga; he protected his client and followed her orders, but he played too fast and loose with his morals too before finally murdering Campbell.”

  “I don’t know if Stiger was ever loyal to anyone,” Jordan shook her head, “he wasn’t stupid, he had to know writing Womack’s will for him and including himself as a beneficiary was stupidly unethical and he’s still unapologetic about it. I still think he was loyal to Helga only because he was acutely aware of the millions he’d get in fees when she finally died and he executed her will. I think he considered Carroll Campbell a petty annoyance he could control…”

  “Until he discovered he couldn’t.” Catherine added. “But Gary was just spineless; he saw Claude kill Hannah, helped him dispose of the body and then hid evidence.”

  “Helga was horribly manipulated by people,” Jordan said, “but she didn’t always succumb; Dominican’s bigwig asked her to leave the hospital a hundred and fifty million in her will and she didn’t.”

  Catherine shook her head in disgust, “What gall, especially considering how much she paid to live in that dingy little room…”

  “They all put money before people.” Mattie said.

  “Well, not Louis Becker.” Jordan countered, “Now there’s a guy living a meditation.”

  They arrived at Helga’s bedroom and the door was as grand as the room it opened into; painted white, the deep carvings painted with gold leaf.

  Mattie opened the door, “And the rest are busy banging down the surrogate’s door, all holding their hands out for Helga’s money.”

  “Jeez.” Jordan dropped her arm from Catherine’s shoulders and let her enter first, “That’s depressing.”

  “Wow…” Catherine walked to the center of the large chandeliered room filled with the exact replicas Helga had made of her mother’s antique French bedroom furniture, “You’d think I’d be used to seeing this level of opulence by now but…wow.”

  Jordan and Mattie followed her inside and Jordan immediately pointed to the hearth, “There it is.” They approached and Mattie fished her phone out of a pocket and tapped up the picture she took before the Babcock murder. “See?” She pointed at the statuette in the picture then pointed to the empty space on the mantle, “That’s where the statue sat.”

  They stood before the hearth in respectful silence for several long seconds before Catherine turned to explore the large room, “I still don’t understand why she couldn’t have lived all those years here or Donjon, or Bellosantuario.” She murmured softly, “She could have afforded an army of private nurses, cooks, whatever she needed, wherever she wanted to live.” She crossed to the velvet-canopied bed, taking in the enormous hand carved four-poster, topped with angels gilded in more gold leaf. She spied a book on the nightstand and read the title aloud, “L'Antre des Nymphes.”

 
“What’s that?” Jordan asked, joining her.

  “It’s the title of this book.” She pointed, “I think it means, The Cave of the Nymphs, by Claude Le Petit.”

  “Claude?” Jordan chuckled. “Good grief.”

  Catherine gave her a wicked grin, “And Le Petit means small.”

  “Of course it does…” Jordan snickered, “that’s just perfect.”

  Mattie followed and waved a hand at the book, “It’s okay, you can touch it.”

  “It just looks so old.” Catherine carefully lifted it in her hands. She saw a bookmark sticking out of the top and just as carefully opened it to the marked page. The bookmark was a plain strip of yellowed paper with something written in faded pencil, faintly visible, and she carefully turned it so it lay across the pages.

  Mattie looked over her shoulder, “That’s Helga’s handwriting.”

  “See this part?” Catherine pointed to a sentence in the book, underlined in pencil. “I think she translated the original French into English on her bookmark.”

  “The world is full of fools,” Mattie read Helga’s distinctive script, “and he who would not see it should live alone and smash his mirror.” She straightened, “Well, I can see why she would underline that.”

  “I don’t know,” Catherine carefully replaced the bookmark, “I think she was pretty savvy to the ways of the world and the people in it...”

  Jordan watched her return it gently to the nightstand, “But she did live the life of a recluse.”

  “Yes, on the other hand,” Her eyes lingered on the engraved leather cover before turning to make a sweeping gesture, “look at all the mirrors in this place.”

  “Do you remember any mirrors in the hospital room she lived in for twenty-four years?” Jordan shrugged, “I honestly don’t.”

  “So how did she interpret that quote?” Mattie asked as they wandered back to the door, “That she knew she had to suffer fools, but chose to live her life her way and be generous? Or that she recognized how she was being used and got sick of it and that’s why she stayed in the hospital for twenty-four years and shut herself away?”