by Hack, Henry
“Couldn’t see from my angle. Wish I had, though.”
“Jesus, Joe, the Japs are attacking and all we can talk about is pussy.”
They both had a good laugh over that, which Harry sorely needed. They went back upstairs to write the report.
Harry stared at the blank yellow legal pad in front of him. “Any advice on what to write?”
“Yeah, keep it short and simple, and limit any admissions to only those you made in the interview.”
●
While Harry and Joe sweated over the written word, Sergeants Goldman and Becker shared a tuna on rye and a diet Pepsi at Goldman’s desk in her office.
“What do you think, Rita?”
“I’ll give you this; he is one good-looking guy – almost movie star looks. And I agree with you. He’s not your typical dumb Irisher.”
“You weren’t there for the first part of the interview, so I’ll re-cap it for you.”
It took about five minutes for Susan to review the interview up to the point where Rita had joined in and then she said, “Tell me, what do we have here?”
“He admits to grabbing Winston, but denies choking him. But you have three sworn statements to the contrary. Have you run a background on these three guys?”
“Yes, and as Officer Cassidy might say – three out of three scumbags. Mostly drugs and gambling, some receiving stolen property, one sexual abuse of a child. Real great witnesses.”
“Not good, and not only that, you have no complainant. The only guy who can say for sure what happened to him that night is vegging out at the Med Center.”
“What about his admission he went back to annoy Winston on his off-duty time? I didn’t even let him know about the anonymous letter and he went for it.”
“So what? Cassidy is a seasoned street cop from the old school, a throwback if you will. He’s a territorial animal and must keep control of his beat. He can’t let a scumbag like Winston get over on him, so he goes back to assert his authority and scare the hell out of him. He had to let Winston know he was still in charge despite the humiliation he suffered a few hours before. What did he call it? His beat was his corner of the world?”
“Yeah, his corner of the world – Cassidy’s Corner – what an ego.”
“Maybe so, Susan, but I bet if you checked the precinct’s crime stats on his beat before he was assigned there with those right now, you’d see a big decline. These old time foot cops consider any crime or disorder on their beat as a personal affront, and react accordingly.”
“But he’s not that old. How did he get this way?”
“Does he have a father or other relative on the Force, someone from the old school who taught him the old ways?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know much about him at all. Which reminds me, any luck with his file?”
“The clerk in Boro Personnel said he put it in the mail and it should be here with the afternoon messenger.”
“Let’s not hold our breath on that one.”
“Susan, are you still feeling giddy?”
“Afraid so. What was your take on Cassidy? Do you think he feels it, too?”
“I don’t know if he feels giddy, but he sure as hell devoured you with his eyes.”
“He did?”
“Yes dear, he did indeed. Every time you crossed your legs from one side to the other, he flushed. The poor guy wanted to look in the worst way, but had to avoid getting caught by you, the bitch interrogator. And by the way, that skirt is a little short and it rode up to your hips. I thought you were about to take a picture of Cassidy with the old box camera.”
“Rita! I did no such thing.”
“Yes, you did, sweetie. You are treading on dangerous ground here. Think this over very, very carefully. You are in the middle of a serious investigation and it seems like you’re ready to jump into bed with the target. You just can’t do that.”
“I know, but I have feelings now I never thought I would have again.”
“Listen, Sue. Go home tonight, pour yourself some wine, put on a little music and masturbate for a couple hours. Then forget about this guy.”
“You sure have a way with words.”
“Then just concentrate on the investigation, but more importantly, concentrate on your career. A roll in the hay with a good looking subordinate is career poison. Forget this Irisher. Get another Jewish lawyer like Steven, or a Jewish doctor.”
“You sound like a Yiddish grandmother. ‘Oy, stay avay from those Irishers. Stay avay from the goyim.’ And you seem to be forgetting I am not Jewish, but half Irisher and half Wop.’”
“You married a Jew, which was a step in the right direction, and Yiddish grandmas knew what they were talking about. Forget Cassidy. Remember your career.”
“Thanks for your advice. I have to get my notes in order and go see the Russian to brief him on the interview. When that file arrives, we’ll get together, okay?”
“Sure. See you then.”
●
It was just after 2:30 when Joe finally approved the third version of Harry’s written report. Harry dropped it on Miss Livermore’s desk and he and Joe left the office and headed back to the stationhouse. Harry went up to Captain Snyder’s office and the precinct clerk waved him in. “How did it go over there, Harry?”
“Not bad, I guess. I’m still employed for the time being.”
“The fact you’re back here and not suspended seems to me a good sign.”
“Maybe the only good sign, Captain.”
Harry filled him in on the interview. Snyder interrupted occasionally to clarify some item or question. When Harry finished, Snyder said, “So far, so good, in my opinion. You were honest and forthright. You admitted you grabbed Winston not knowing they had three statements supporting that. Most cops would’ve lied on that question. And you admitted going back to the bar not knowing they had an anonymous letter to that effect. I don’t see any brutality complaint coming out of this. If this is all they have, I see a conduct-unbecoming-an-officer charge and a five-day rap, at the most.”
“That’s good to hear. I can handle the CUBO, but I don’t like the idea of losing five days pay.”
“Consider yourself lucky, lad. And be careful who you talk to and what you say about this before they officially close the investigation. Don’t let your guard down. Watch out for surveillance. Be careful using the phone. Got me?”
“Got you. Thank you, sir.”
Harry walked down the second floor hallway to the detective squad offices. He walked in and Pop looked at him with a big smile. Nick smiled, too. Pop said, “Glad to see you’re back from IAD with your hide intact, young man. Fill us in. The coffee’s fresh.”
Harry again related the story, but before he got to the part where he went back to the bar after he signed off duty, he said, “Listen guys, I told them something I didn’t tell you before, but I didn’t think it was relevant to the case.”
“What didn’t you tell us?” Pop asked.
“I told IAD I went back to the Nest later on during my off-duty time.”
“You did?” Nick asked, surprised at this revelation. What for?”
“I don’t know. To annoy Richie. To smack him around, which I didn’t. But mostly to let him know he couldn’t humiliate me on my own beat.”
“What happened there?” Pop asked.
“Nothing much. We yelled at each other. I felt better after I vented and I left the bar around 3:40.”
Pop looked at Harry and Harry knew exactly what he was thinking. He had told Pop that the anonymous letter was “all bullshit.” And now Pop was probably wondering what else Harry had failed to tell him. Harry continued, “IAD hammered me for not telling you guys about going back. They said if I drove away while Richie was securing the bar, I was probably the last guy who saw him alive. I thought about this all the way back here, and they were absolutely right. I should’ve told you guys right away. I’m sorry. I screwed up.”
Pop looked at Nick and said, “That expla
ins Mr. Frank Mazzi’s statement.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
“Who’s Frank Mazzi?” Harry asked, looking at Nick. He noticed that Nick still played the role, dressed like he just stepped out of a GQ ad. He was adorned in a beautifully cut, brown wool suit, highly-polished brown shoes that probably cost half as much as the suit, light yellow shirt with gold cufflinks and a hundred dollar tie to match. Where the hell did he get the money? Who was he trying to impress? This was the Nine-Five precinct, not the One-Five in Manhattan, for crying out loud.
“Frank Mazzi is a witness I turned up today. He claimed while walking from the subway along Hempstead Avenue, going home to his apartment, he glanced down 18th Street as he crossed it. It was exactly 3:45 because the bank clock flashed and caught his attention. He said he saw a car parked up from the Nest with its engine idling – he saw the smoke coming from the exhaust. He also saw smoke coming out of the driver’s side window, so he assumed somebody was in the car smoking. He didn’t get the plate number and he can’t remember the make or model, but if he had to guess he would say it was a fairly new Dodge or Chrysler.”
“That had to be me. I had turned the car on to warm it up. I lit up a smoke and cracked the window. I probably drove away a couple of minutes later.”
“That answers the question of who was in the car. We thought maybe it was one of the attackers staking the place out from another direction,” Pop said.
“How’s the case going, guys? Got a lead from the composite yet?”
“Nothing yet,” Nick said, “but I found another guy who was in the bar that night.”
“Was he the one who was still there when I went back?”
“No, but I got a lead on that, too. This guy’s statement is the same as the other three. He also says he was the next to last guy to leave the bar. Says he left about two and the last guy remaining he only knew casually. He thinks he is a very close friend of Richie and his first name is Johnny, or John, and his last name sounds Polish, something like Skowronski, or Skranski. Thinks he lives in Queens, maybe Flushing or Astoria.”
“Come on, Nick .Try to find him before he writes another goddamn letter to the DA claiming I’m Jack the Ripper, would you?”
“I’m trying, I’m trying.”
“Which leaves this Polish guy and the final two left for you to track down. You know, that Skaronski sounds a bit familiar to me. Maybe I had dealings with him.”
“Forget the final two. This witness says he knows they go to Miami to follow the ponies right after Christmas every year. He says they don’t come back until the spring meet at Aqueduct in April. Only knows their first names as Tom and Ken.”
“They probably wouldn’t give you much more than the four you already have unless they know more about this Johnny guy,” Harry said.
“This guy says he doesn’t think Tom and Ken know much more about Johnny than he does, but if the Department wants to send me to Miami for a couple of months, I’ll gladly go and track them down,” Nick said.
Harry looked Nick up and down and said, “You’d like that. You could buy a whole new wardrobe.”
“Don’t break my balls.”
Harry smiled and said, “Tell me Nick, who are you trying to impress? I mean, you look great, but those duds must have set you back a fortune.”
“Gotta look your best at all times. You never know when some Manhattan squad commander might cross your path. Besides, I can afford it because I don’t have any alimony, or child support payments, or both, like most cops I know.”
“You sure know how to hurt a guy.”
“Harry, if the Job ever threw you a detective shield you’d have to outfit yourself from the Goodwill Store.”
“You’re right on that one. I’m glad you and Pop are getting somewhere. Please catch the perps quick. I don’t want to deal with IAD anymore.”
“We’ll get them,” Pop said. “And, speaking of IAD, you should know we have to immediately forward all of our reports and statements on the investigation to Sergeant Susan Goldman by fax and hard copy.”
“That figures,” he said. “As if they need more ammunition to blast away at me.”
Chapter Seven
Officer Harold T. Cassidy’s personnel file miraculously arrived in the afternoon mail as promised. Susan dropped it on Rita’s desk saying, “I’m going up to brief the boss. Would you look at this while I’m up there? I should be able to join you in a half hour.”
“Glad to help, and I’m curious myself about what makes this Cassidy tick.”
Susan knocked on Inspector Gregorovich’s open door. He looked up from his desk and invited her in. He knew why she was here and he was anxious to hear the results of the interview.
“Close the door, Sergeant. Come in, sit down.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, noting the Mad Russian appeared to be in a good mood and hoping he would stay that way. She relayed the results of the interview and then handed Cassidy’s written report to him. He frowned as he read it – not a good sign.
“He’s lying. Don’t you agree?”
“In what part of his story do you think he’s lying, sir?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“I’m certain he’s lying about choking Winston. We have three individual sworn statements describing the incident and although the witnesses are not the most upstanding citizens in the area, I believe they are credible on this part. Also, Cassidy’s body language and choice of words in describing and denying this incident were indicative, strongly indicative, that he lied.”
“Exactly! Very good. Where else did he lie?”
“I‘m not quite certain. I mean, I cannot pinpoint any more definitive lies similar to the choking incident, but something is very murky with the part of his story when he came back to the bar on his off-duty time.”
“Murky? Not quite an objective term from a well-trained interviewer.”
“No, sir, but I can’t be more definite. Let me try to clarify it by saying he reluctantly told the truth about his return, but I think he is lying by omission. I think he left a lot out of what happened when he went back to the Nest.”
“I think when Cassidy went back there he had murder on his mind.”
“That’s very possible, but whatever he is hiding, I still don’t believe he personally attacked Winston.”
“Maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t. Have you thoroughly reviewed the crime scene search team’s reports?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do they show anything tying Cassidy to the area where Winston was found?”
“No, sir. All the blood found inside and outside the car was Winston’s. Three latent prints were found but not identified as Winston’s or Cassidy’s and the computer didn’t get a hit on any of them.”
“How about footprints?”
“Not much help there. The snow was packed hard and no discernible prints were found they could make a cast from.”
“I would think whoever did this, with that amount of blood at the scene, would certainly have gotten some on their clothing, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, sir. No doubt about it.”
“Do you think you could get a search warrant for Cassidy’s apartment to search for blood evidence?”
“I doubt we have enough probable cause to bring to the DA to justify a search. And, if Cassidy did attack Winston, I’m sure the first thing he did when he got back home would have been to check himself thoroughly for blood. Any clothes with blood, I’m sure, are long gone.”
“You’re probably right, but I want you to bounce that off one of the assistant district attorneys in the Corruption Unit. Try to get Mark Brimlow. Most of the time he’s friendly to us, and if we have any probable cause at all, he may go for it. Also make an application for a warrant to tap and record Cassidy’s home phone. Do that with Brimlow at the same time.”
“Yes, Inspector.”
“Anything new on the investigation from the detectives?”
“No,
but they know to call me immediately if anything pops, and I directed them to fax their reports over as soon as they’re written.”
“Have they also been told to call you immediately if there’s any change in Winston’s condition?”
“Yes. If by some miracle Winston comes out of the coma they are to notify me, and they will not proceed to his room before I arrive. All questions by them will be asked in my presence.”
“Good. I also want surveillance on Cassidy while he is working and while he is off-duty as well. We’re going to be with him from the time he wakes up until the time he goes to bed. I’ll have Captain Jansen set it up.”
“I don’t know about that, sir. Cassidy seems to be one savvy street cop. He’ll be tough to surveil.”
“Don’t worry about that. We have the best surveillance teams in the entire Metro Police Department assigned to us. Cassidy will never know they’re around.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, wondering what in hell Gregorovich expected to find by following Cassidy around, but she was not about to question his judgment now. Things were going well. No sense stirring him up.
“One more thing, Sergeant. The box?”
“I asked, and he refused. He’s aware of the status of the appeal.”
“I wish that damn Court of Appeals would get moving on that right away. I would love to hear what Officer Harold T. Cassidy has to say when he’s wired up in the hot seat.”
“Yes, sir. So would I.”
“Fine work so far, Sergeant. Keep it up and you’ll nail him for sure. That will be all for now.”
●
Goldman stopped in her office and telephoned the DA’s office. She booked an appointment with ADA Mark Brimlow for 9 a.m. the next day. She decided when she finished up there she would search out Cassidy on his beat for a crime scene tour. She wondered if he would be happy to see her. She walked down the hall and entered Rita’s office. Rita had Cassidy’s files spread out all over her desk. She looked up as Susan walked in.
“Anything interesting in there, Rita?”
“Yes, indeed – very interesting,” she said in a German accent, imitating Arte Johnson on the old Laugh-In TV show re-runs she so enjoyed.
