Conflict of Interest

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  She tried to push past him when he stepped in front of her. “The police have already been notified,” he said. “I just left Spencer’s chambers. That’s why I didn’t wait to speak to you after I dropped off Ian’s paperwork. Spencer is signing the arrest warrant as we speak. The case has been postponed until next week. We tried to call your office but your machine picked up.”

  “I thought you were a defense attorney,” Joanne told him, annoyed. “Now you’re doing my job for me. Thanks, Arnold. Why did you make me go over Decker’s records if you already knew he’d disappeared? It’s not as if I don’t have enough to do. Between yesterday and this morning, you’ve wasted hours of my time.”

  “I’m certain the Rubinskys are lying,” the attorney said, placing his hand on her arm. “Elizabeth is waiting in my office. Come, I want you to talk to her in person.”

  “How far away is your office?” Joanne pulled away from him. “I can’t simply walk out of the building. I have to get permission from Kennedy, verify that the warrant has been issued. We have to make certain the police are notified that Decker may be armed.”

  “I’d be less worried if Ian was armed.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You have a cell phone, right?”

  “A real cell phone,” Joanne said, trying to assimilate the conflicting information. “I can’t push a button and kill someone with it. All I can do is make phone calls. And you have the gall to tell me you’d prefer Decker…”

  “Forget it,” Dreiser said, cutting her off. “Use your cell phone and get permission to leave the building. The longer we procrastinate, the less of a chance we have to get Ian back alive. They may be holding him somewhere until the trial is over.”

  “The Rubinskys?” Joanne asked. “I’m lost, Arnold. Didn’t you just tell me Gary and Tom Rubinsky are the ones who advised the court that Ian had absconded? Why would these men show up in court if they’d kidnapped or murdered your client?”

  “Only Tom showed up,” he explained. “He claims Gary is looking for Ian. Regardless, they want to make it look as if Ian pulled off the robbery without their knowledge. I told you there were problems with this case when we had lunch yesterday.”

  “Then Gary failed to appear as well?” Joanne said, resting her back against the wall.

  “Technically,” Dreiser said. “Whatever these guys do, they do together. Tom told his attorney Gary was on his way to the courthouse. When Tom found out the judge was going to continue the case, he called Gary and told him not to come.”

  “I want an arrest warrant issued for both of these men,” Joanne insisted. “This whole situation stinks.”

  “Spencer said the same thing,” Dreiser told her “About the case…”

  “What about the case?”

  “The fact that the victim picked all three men out of a lineup isn’t significant. They’ve never denied that they were at the Quick-Mart. The only thing they’re denying is that they committed the robbery.”

  “Why are we talking about this now?” Joanne said. “I thought you wanted me to go to your office immediately”

  “I do,” Dreiser said, gritting his teeth. He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m trying to explain what I think is happening here. The man who identified Decker’s car just got out of drug rehab. He didn’t see the robbery go down. He didn’t see the gun or hear the gunshot. He was Just walking by picking up cans. Do you want to listen to what I have to say now?”

  When Joanne just glared at him, Dreiser continued, “Tom Rubinsky said the three of them have been holed up at the Economy Inn for the past week. Ian evidently used his credit card to book the room. I didn’t know where they were staying, and neither did Elizabeth. She called all over town trying to find him.”

  “Couldn’t she track him through the credit card company?”

  “Because the card was in Ian’s name,” Dreiser explained, “the company refused to give her any information.” Arnold glanced at his watch, knowing Elizabeth was waiting for them. “The card is maxed out now, so Ian can’t use it.” Joanne cleared her throat. “Finish what you were saying earlier.”

  “According to Tom,” Dreiser continued, “Ian said he was going out to get something to eat last night around ten. He came back shortly after eleven with a suitcase, telling Gary and Tom that his mother had given him money and told him to leave town because she couldn’t stand the possibility that he might go to prison.”

  “Have you asked Elizabeth if she saw Ian last night?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Elizabeth swears she didn’t give Ian money nor has she seen him. The most important aspect of the Rubinskys’ story is that they’re claiming that while Ian was in the bathroom, they opened his suitcase and saw a canvas bag containing both the money from the robbery and the gun. Ian wrestled it away from them and took off. Does that sound plausible to you? You went over his history this morning, right? The Rubinsky brothers are huge. Do you really believe Ian could take anything away from these men?”

  “This is their official statement, what they intend to tell the police?”

  “Precisely,” Dreiser said. “That’s why Tom showed up in court this morning. What we’re dealing with here could be far more serious than a convenience store robbery. I think they killed him. They killed him because he knew too much and because he was weak. People with Ian’s disabilities aren’t good liars. They knew he’d break down on the witness stand.”

  “I’ll follow you,” Joanne said. “Meet me in front of the building in five minutes.”

  TEN

  Friday, February 9, 2001, 10:40 A.M.

  APPROXIMATELY TWENTY minutes later, Joanne pulled up next to Arnold Dreiser’s black Cadillac Escalade in the parking lot of the Bank of America building. On the drive over, she’d spoken to Judge Spencer and the Ventura PD, as well as Dean Kennedy, confirming that warrants for the arrest of Ian Decker and Gary Rubinsky were issued for armed robbery and failure to appear. Kennedy had instructed her to report back to his office as soon as she concluded her interview with Elizabeth Decker. He said he would have one of the other attorneys prepare a search warrant for the room the defendants had been using at the Economy Inn, then have Judge Spencer sign it. Dreiser’s law firm was housed on the eighth floor of the Bank of America building. Behind the double oak doors, there was a nicely furnished reception area, a conference room that doubled as a law library, and three spacious offices with floor-to-ceiling windows. “One of my partners quit,” he said, escorting her down a carpeted hallway. “Want to resign your job with the county?”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Joanne told him. “Right now, I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel financially. I couldn’t handle representing men like the Rubinskys, though, no matter how much money was involved. Putting them behind bars is more gratifying.”

  Elizabeth Decker stood and extended her hand as Joanne entered the room. “I appreciate your coming,” she said, her voice strained. “They’ve done something terrible to my son.”

  “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Joanne told her, clasping the distraught woman’s hand. “Right now, all we’re dealing with is failure to appear. This type of thing is extremely common. Either the police will pick up your son, or he’ll come back voluntarily”

  “I woke up early this morning,” the woman said. “My nightgown was dripping wet from sweat. I was certain Ian was in the room with me.”

  “Could he have come into the house without your knowledge?” Joanne asked, wondering if the Rubinskys’ story might be true. “Were you missing any money?”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, sitting back down in a chair facing Dreiser’s desk. The two attorneys took their seats as well. “I was wide awake. Ian wasn’t in the house. He doesn’t even have a key anymore. Once he started hanging out with Gary and Tom, I took the key away from him. My son and I were very close before those awful men came into his life. Even when he was a toddler, I could always sense when he needed me. If something happened at school, they didn’t
even have to call me. I’d drop whatever I was doing and go straight to the school. By the time I got there, Ian would be waiting on the front steps.”

  “My children were missing for two years,” Joanne said, attempting to maintain her perspective. “Neither one of them was on trial for robbery. Your son is an adult, Mrs. Decker. Even if he weren’t facing criminal charges, adults disappear by choice all the time. It doesn’t mean they’ve been killed, or that some other dreadful thing has happened to them.”

  “My son is dead.”

  Joanne rubbed her forehead. “Are you trying to say you’re psychic?”

  Elizabeth’s back stiffened, her voice was edged with bitterness. “I know things, okay? I’m not a psychic, and I’m certainly not insane. Look at how you’re talking to me, like you think I’m some kind of nutcase. I’m a mother who loves her son. Having a special kid like Ian is one of God’s greatest blessings. I feel honored that Ian is my son, that God entrusted this life to me. You lawyer people think you’re so smart. You’ve got all these fancy degrees, but you miss what’s really important in life. You’ll find out, though. Everyone finds out eventually.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “You think Ian knew what those thugs were doing?” Elizabeth continued. “You think my son is a criminal, don’t you?”

  Joanne crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. She remembered all the nights she’d bolted upright in her bed, certain she’d heard Mike or Leah calling for her. Elizabeth had every right to be offended. “Your son’s guilt or innocence will be determined by a jury,” she said quietly “That is, if the police locate him. I’m just a prosecutor. All I do is handle whatever cases I’m assigned.”

  “They killed him!” Elizabeth shouted, rising several inches from her chair “Those terrible men have murdered my son. You don’t care. No one has ever cared about Ian. All my life I’ve fought his battles, taken care of him, made certain he was safe.”

  “Calm down,” Dreiser said. “Ms. Kuhlman is only trying to reason with you, Elizabeth. Tell her what you know about the Rubinskys.”

  Elizabeth stared off into space. A few moments later, she removed a tissue from her purse to wipe her eyes. “Gary’s a bully and a liar. He even hit his own mother one time.”

  “Did she report it?”

  “I don’t think so,” Elizabeth said. “When it’s your kid, you sometimes look the other way. I think Gary was about sixteen at the time. I guess his mother tried to discipline him, and he beat her up. All I remember is she had a black eye and some nasty bruises.”

  “What about Tom?”

  “Tom,” Elizabeth said, “is basically a follower. Ian and Tom were close until Ian got pulled out of regular classes. All Ian’s friends dumped him then. From that point on, Ian never had any friends that didn’t use him or hurt him. After a while, he stopped trying to fit in and retreated into his own world. He liked television, movies, animals. He was studying welding, you know, until the Rubinskys got their hands on him. I’m not certain if he would have completed the course. He was scared of the equipment, afraid he’d bum himself. Around the time he started hanging out with the Rubinskys, he’d asked me to see if I could get him transferred to another program. Nothing was available. I knew these men had befriended him because they wanted to use his car. I threatened to take the car back if he didn’t stop seeing them. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Ian loved that car. The car and his apartment were his first steps toward independent living.”

  “Do you know the Rubinskys’ parents?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “They still live in the same house, about five doors down from us. Louise kicked Gary and Tom out years ago. She continued to give them money, though, which was a mistake in my eyes. Neither one of them has ever been able to keep a job longer than a few months. They were into drugs, alcohol, all kinds of things.”

  “I spent several hours this morning going over your son’s school and psychological records,” Joanne told her. “I thought there might be a possibility of letting him plead guilty to a lesser offense. By fleeing, though, Ian has made himself appear even more culpable.”

  Dreiser decided to bring the meeting to a close before Elizabeth became upset again. “Perhaps we should wait and see what happens over the next few days. You’ve already called all the local hospitals and nothing has turned up. The next step is to begin checking other cities.”

  “Your son will probably contact you,” Joanne told Elizabeth, leaning forward. “He’s going to contact you because he’ll run out of money—whether he got it from you or someone else. He doesn’t appear to be strong or resourceful enough to make it on his own for very long.”

  “I swear,” Elizabeth said, wiping more tears from her face with a tissue. “I didn’t give him any money. And I would never encourage him to leave. I put my house up as collateral for his bail. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll lose my home.”

  “When and if Ian contacts you,” Joanne continued, “you must do everything in your power to encourage him to surrender to the authorities. Because of the uniqueness of the gun involved in this crime, the police may open fire on him.”

  Elizabeth was on the brink of hysteria. “Now you’re telling me the police are going to kill him! Oh, my God! My poor baby.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Joanne said, a line of perspiration breaking out on her forehead. “Whether you realize it or not, Mrs. Decker, I’m trying to help you. You think I’m your adversary. That isn’t true. I have children of my own. I care about your son. When I looked at his school papers this morning, I could see how hard he’s struggled. Guilty or innocent, I don’t want him to get hurt. That’s why I’m telling you these things.”

  Joanne stood, walked over to Arnold’s desk, and picked up a yellow notepad and pen. “Here,” she said, handing the items to Elizabeth. “Write this down. Make several copies and tape them near every phone in your house. Instruct anyone who answers the phone to follow the instructions I’m about to give you.” She paused, waiting as Elizabeth pulled a law book off the shelf behind her and placed the notepad on top of it.

  “Okay,” Joanne continued, pacing in front of Dreiser’s desk as if she were in a courtroom, “the reason I want you to write this down is the following. When your son calls, you’re going to be so relieved to hear from him that you’re going to forget what to say. Also, he probably won’t stay on the line for fear the police will be able to trace the call.”

  Elizabeth looked up. “Ian isn’t that smart.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Joanne said, arching an eyebrow. “He’s been associating with the Rubinsky brothers for some time now. Not only that, he watches television. Even a fifth grader would suspect that the phone might be tapped.”

  “What do you want me to write?”

  “That he should not under any circumstances buy or use a cell phone,” Joanne told her, holding up a finger. “Mark that as number one on your list. Second, if he does have the decoy gun in his possession, tell him to deposit it in a trash bin behind the closest police station, then call and tell you where he left it so someone else doesn’t retrieve it and use it in the commission of another crime. Firearms have a long life on the street. Sometimes the same gun is used in hundreds of crimes. The last set of fingerprints on that gun will be your son’s if the person who finds it uses gloves.”

  “I don’t believe Ian ran off,” Elizabeth said, scribbling down Joanne’s words as she spoke. “Even if he did get scared and leave town, he’d never go anywhere near a police station for fear they’d arrest him.”

  “Then that’s your job to convince him,” Joanne said, locking eyes with her. “Do you understand?”

  Elizabeth nodded, shoving a limp strand of hair behind one ear.

  “The next thing you must tell him is how to conduct himself if he’s stopped by the police,” she said. “Instruct him to place his hands over his head or somehow make certain the officer can be assured he isn’t going to shoot him. Tell him not to reach for the glove compart
ment, a piece of paper, or anything that even vaguely resembles a cell phone or a firearm. Police officers are trained to use the word ‘freeze’ for a reason. It’s not just a catchy phrase.”

  Joanne picked up her backpack to leave. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Decker. Regardless of your son’s guilt or innocence, he’s in grave danger. In that respect, I completely agree with you.”

  “Don’t leave yet.” Elizabeth wanted to ask her something, but her mind had gone blank. She glanced down at the notes she’d made, hoping she had written them correctly The prosecutor was a wise woman. In a crisis, it was easy to forget. “I’ve been through so much lately I don’t know how much more I can stand. Is what you said going to happen? Are the police going to tap my phone?”

  “Not yet,” Joanne said. “Right now, I’m going to treat this as nothing more than a failure to appear. I am, however, going to attempt to find out if the Rubinsky brothers are lying. We’ll get a search warrant for the room at the Economy Inn. If the Rubinskys did harm your son, they’re going to be two of the sorriest men ever to walk the face of the earth.”

  ELEVEN

  Friday, February 9, 2001, 5:45 P.M.

  THE SKY was awash in dazzling colors. Aboard the Nightwatch, Eli Connors was savoring the sunset, waiting until the last touch of pink turned to gray before he opened the hatch and went below.

  The main section of the ship resembled a miniature version of the war room at the Pentagon. Eight monitors were lined up along the walls, connected to eight Celestron Nexstar 8 telescopes mounted in various locations on the deck. With his feet resting on a teakwood shelf that served as a credenza, Eli was finishing a bowl of homemade beef stew. He rolled his chair sideways, flipping various switches to rotate the telescopes. The white Lexus had just appeared on one of the monitors, and he had to make the proper adjustments. This had turned out to be a far more expensive operation than he’d anticipated. He’d had to purchase several more telescopes. Because of the terrain and the lack of lighting, they had to be equipped with infrared capabilities. He wasn’t focusing on one house, but the entire community. Even though he didn’t mind upgrading his equipment, he’d been experiencing problems with his generator. The Nightwatch was not structurally able to hold anything larger, and it would take years to outfit another vessel.