Corpus Corpus

by H. Paul Jeffers

  "What have you there, Johnny? Equally good news, I hope."

  Bogdanovic laid the envelope on the desk. "Possibly. What's in it could be the solution to the Janus murder. It's the original of the picture that was in the Graphic. And the negative."

  "Well, well. Our camera-and-gun-toting killer certainly is a brave soul, isn't he?"

  "He was also careless. When he clipped the negative of the photo of Janus from the film strip, he also snipped off part of a picture taken at the press conference that Janus and Maggie held just before the Black Orchid Banquet."

  "That was very sloppy of him, indeed. It's better than having a confession. A clever lawyer like Maggie Dane could get a confession thrown out on any number of technicalities. But one picture, as the saying goes, is worth a thousand words. Dare I hope that either the picture or the negative will produce a set of fingerprints?"

  "The killer was sloppy, but he was not stupid. According to Abelman, the photo lab experts at the Graphic found no prints on either the picture or the negative. The killer wore gloves. The picture and negatives were delivered in the envelope that's in the evidence bag, but I'm not counting on finding the killer's fingerprints on it."

  "Even without fingerprints," Dane interjected, "the envelope may still connect him to the crime. It was sealed, so it's likely that he sealed it by licking the flap. If so, testing of the saliva and comparing its genetic markers to DNA in a sample of the suspect's will tie the killer to the envelope. That will allow a DA to lead a jury to the inescapable conclusion that whoever sent the envelope to the Graphic murdered Theo."

  Goldstein beamed. "The mind of a prosecutor at work! Johnny, it is a beautiful thing to behold at work, especially, in the words of Shakespeare in Henry V, 'When blood is their argument.' "

  "Shakespeare?" Bogdanovic exclaimed. "Chief, I'm surprised. I was all set to hear a pithy, on-point quotation from either the canon of Sherlock Holmes or the corpus of Nero Wolfe."

  "Not to disappoint you, John," said Dane. "I refer you to a short story in Trouble in Triplicate tided 'Blood Will Tell.' Of course, that was 1949, decades before the discovery of DNA."

  With a chuckle of delight, Goldstein looked at Bogdanovic. "Any testing for DNA in this case is for the future. Meanwhile, Johnny, even though we're not likely to find fingerprints on any of the objects you brought from the Graphic, send them to the lab anyway. Maybe we'll get lucky. And while that's being done, where do these fascinating photographic clues leave you in regard to your various theories of the case?"

  "They appear to rule out all those involving this having been a gangland killing. The mob doesn't rub out someone and then send a picture of the corpse to a newspaper. And I find it hard to see how Janus's murder is connected to Mancuso's death."

  "What about Janus's book on Mancuso's nightstand?"

  "The book with its inscription may have provided the impetus for Paulie to jump out the window. But there is no evidence that Janus was involved. We may never know how that book got there, or why. Nor the reason for Paulie's jump."

  "Are you proposing that we leave the Mancuso investigation solely to Cornelius Vanderhoff's people?"

  "Why not? They had no problem in cutting us out of the loop in that matter. Why get in bed with them now? I personally feel no obligation to pull their irons out of the lire. Let them stew in their own incompetence. I say, tough titties. Let 'em sink or swim. They made that omelette. Let them eat it."

  Goldstein directed a mischievous look at Dane. "Maggie, I believe Sergeant Bogdanovic has just set a record for using the most metaphors in a single argument in favor of the dereliction of duty."

  With veins standing out in his neck, Bogdanovic angrily demanded, "Since when have I been employed to fix the mistakes of the district attorney's office?"

  Still looking at Dane, Goldstein said, "Maggie, I haven't witnessed such an outburst of indignation since Sherlock Holmes defended himself for letting a guilty man go by pointing out to Dr. Watson that he was not retained to supply the deficiencies of Scotland Yard. Have you, Maggie?"

  "No, Chief, I haven't."

  Goldstein's eyes turned to Bogdanovic. "Of course, Holmes was right. He was not an official detective. He had the luxury of picking his cases and, if he chose, dropping them. And what the hell if a crime went unsolved?"

  Bogdanovic took a deep breath, sank into his customary chair, and with a measured cadence said, "There is nothing to indicate, other than writing in a book of what might or might not have been a threat against Mancuso's family, that Mancuso's death was not exactly what it appeared to be, a suicide."

  "Yet this very morning in this office," Goldstein replied, "you recited for me a number of theories concerning the murder of Theodore Janus, each of which appeared to be viable. Now you say that you've changed your mind. All your theories, like Mancuso, have gone out the window, save one. You have come to this conclusion that the deaths of Mancuso and Janus on the same night were a fluke of timing and a coincidence." "Pardon me, sir, but-"

  "Watch out, Maggie," Goldstein interjected. "When Johnny addresses me as sir, the scene that follows is not pleasant. You may wish to leave the room."

  As Dane rose to leave, Bogdanovic exclaimed, "You just stay put, Maggie. No ducking out in the middle of a little squabble. They happen in the best of families."

  Dane's questioning look at Goldstein was answered with two downturned palms gesturing to her to resume her seat.

  "As to my instincts, Chief," Bogdanovic continued quietly, "they have served you very well so far."

  Goldstein responded in a restrained tone that seemed to Dane like a father's to an unruly child. "Those instincts have indeed served me well. That's because they were invariably followed by evidence. All I am asking is that you show me the evidence that will back up your instinct that there's no relationship between Janus's killer and what happened to Mancuso."

  "How do I prove a negative?"

  "Excuse me, gentlemen," said Dane, "but dare I point out an observation by the man who is at the center of Theo's murder? I refer, of course, to Nero Wolfe."

  Bogdanovic threw up his arms in dismay. "Why the hell not? All I've heard since this friggin' case started is the apparently endless wisdom of an overweight sleuth who never existed."

  Goldstein's smile was as benign as his tone. "Go ahead, Maggie. What did Wolfe have to say?"

  "He said that a negative can never be established. You can only establish guilt."

  Bogdanovic grunted. "Brilliant! Apparently, the man was an expert at recognizing the obvious."

  Unperturbed, Dane continued, "My point is that when you find out who took that picture and have him in custody, you will know who killed Theo. Having established guilt in one case, you will be in a position to learn whether Theo's murder and the death of Mancuso were related. Fortunately, Theo's killer has provided you the means to track him down. Shakespeare was right when he wrote that murder, though it have no tongue, will speak with most miraculous organ. In this instance, that most miraculous organ was a camera. I don't know why Theo's killer felt he had to record the deed on film and send it to the Graphic, but in being so bold, he made a mistake that planted the seed of his undoing. That little piece of negative showing that he had been in the Gramercy Park Hotel has reduced the field of suspects to those who were in the lobby when Theo and I met the press before dinner."

  "Granted," interjected Goldstein. "But there must have been more than a hundred people in that lobby, not including newspaper photographers and TV news crews jostling with each other to point their lenses at your faces. I even saw one TV cameraman shooting you and Janus from behind."

  "The ubiquitous reverse-angle shot," Dane said, stoically, as she looked at Bogdanovic, slouching and listening with what seemed to be indifference. "During the big trial, I quickly got used to seeing the back of my head on the six o'clock news."

  Bogdanovic lurched out of his slouch. "Reverse-angle shot. Chief, would you by any chance recall what station's camera was shooting Ma
ggie and Janus from the rear?"

  With closed eyes and fingers drumming his belly, Goldstein looked at Bogdanovic and said, "I'm not positive, John, but I have a vague memory of the number eleven on the side of the camera. The guy handling it had a gray walrus mustache."

  Bogdanovic bolted to his feet. "Chief, your memory serves you well. The cameraman was Bobby Fields. He and I know each other from who knows how many crimes scenes."

  "That's good. Need I suggest that you head up to the station's studios at Forty-second and Second Avenue right now and get your friend to show you his handiwork?"

  "While Maggie and I are on the way," Bogdanovic said, "let us pray that it hasn't been erased."

  The name engraved on a brass plate on a desk littered with paper and stacks of video cassette boxes was Elaine Rose.

  As Bogdanovic inquired of her into the availability of the video tape, Dane noted with pleasure and pride that the news director of the television station was not only a woman, but a person who could not be impressed or intimidated by a man bearing a detective's shield.

  "Our policy regarding taming over our news tapes and out-takes to the police, or to any other government agency, is to refuse to do so unless we are served with a subpoena," Rose said firmly. "And then only on the advice of the company's attorney that we must comply."

  "I'm not asking that the tape in question be turned over," Bogdanovic asserted. "I merely want to look at it here and now."

  "The effect is the same."

  "The effect of your refusal, Ms. Rose," Bogdanovic said in a bristling tone of voice, "might be construed by District Attorney Vanderhoff as illegal interference with a murder investigation. A further effect could be a contempt citation with your name on it. You could find yourself sitting in a cell in the Women's House of Detention on Riker's Island until I'm allowed to see the tape."

  Rose turned to Dane. "I fail to grasp what relevance a video tape of a news conference with Mr. Janus and you, Miss Dane, has to the investigation of the murder."

  "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to divulge the relevance. I can only tell you that Sergeant Bogdanovic's viewing the tape at the earliest possible moment may be crucial to solving the case."

  Rose allowed herself a slight smile. "What do you expect to find on the tape, Sergeant? Might it be a shot of the murderer?"

  "All I can say about that," Bogdanovic replied quietly, "is that if there is a shot of the murderer, you've got yourself one hell of a hot piece of tape. That picture would be an even bigger scoop than the one the Graphic bragged about in today's edition."

  Rose scowled. "I must admit that shot of the corpus delicti with the cigar in his mouth was quite a coup. Did you know that Abelman had the damn thing copyrighted and then had the balls to demand twenty thousand bucks for permission to use it?"

  "As a matter of law," Dane said, suppressing a laugh, "the copyright does not belong to the Graphic, unless Abelman bought the rights from the person who took the picture."

  Rose's eyebrows arched. "May I gather from what Ms. Dane just said, Sergeant, that you suspect the person who took the picture was the murderer?"

  "No comment."

  "Since you trashed the First Amendment by keeping the press away from the murder scene until after the body was gone, it is logical to conclude that the person who got that amazing photo must have committed the murder."

  Bogdanovic grinned. "Nice try, Ms. Rose."

  "Try this, Sergeant. Why shouldn't I conclude from your interest in seeing our video of the news conference that the person who took the picture—namely the murderer—might have been caught on our tape of the news conference?"

  "As I said, if he is, you've got a valuable tape. I imagine that the proper hype before you run it on your ten o'clock news would result in a healthy boost in the show's ratings. You might even turn the tables on Abelman by charging him for the right to lift a picture of the murderer from your tape."

  "You know Jerry Abelman as well as I do, Sergeant. The rat would pirate the picture."

  "All this conjecturing is moot, unless I see the tape and it leads to identification and arrest of the murderer."

  "For that to happen, you will need more than a look at the tape. You'll require a copy of it so that you and your experts at One Police Plaza can study it. Therein lies the rub."

  "Then I suggest you pick up your phone and dump the rub in the lap of your legal eagle. If he says I may see the tape, the issue is settled."

  "My legal eagle is a she."

  "Should she say nay, I'll take the matter to the district attorney and he can thrash it out with your lawyer. But keep in mind that if they fail to reach an accommodation, it could be you who lands in the pokey."

  "Sergeant Bogdanovic, in the course of my career in news I have been caught in the crossfire between Serbs and Muslims in Bosnia and Israelis and Palestinians in Manger Square in Bethlehem. I was also held hostage for a day by leftist rebels in Peru in conditions that would make sitting in a cell at Riker's Island a Cakewalk. So you can rattle your detective's badge at me all you want. I stand behind the shield of the First Amendment, unless the station's lawyer tells me otherwise. Now, while I place the call to her, you may wait outside. There are coffee and soda machines in the newsroom."

  A few moments later, Dane selected a diet cola.

  Mindful of the curious looks directed at her by the men and women in the newsroom. Bogdanovic whispered, "How's it feel to be a celebrity prosecutor, Maggie?"

  "I'll be glad to get back to blessed anonymity."

  "I'm afraid that's highly unlikely. Television let the genie out of the bottle and there's no putting it back."

  "How can you be so certain they're not looking at you?"

  "Because at least half of the people in this newsroom have known me for years. The rest pride themselves on spotting a cop a mile away, so I'm just another flatfoot. But you are the woman who won a moral victory over Theodore R. Janus in what they and their like across the nation branded the trial of the century. You are the darling of the press."

  "Elaine Rose didn't seem to share that opinion."

  "Only because you caught her off guard by showing up with a guy who is determined to trample the First Amendment."

  "You have to admit she is a gutsy woman."

  "In keeping me from viewing the video tape, that gutsy woman is inhibiting a murder investigation. Were you the DA on this case, you would be hightailing it to a judge's chambers to apply for a subpoena, and if Ms. Rose didn't fork over the tape forthwith, you'd lose no time in ordering me to slap on the cuffs." "True. But I'd still admire her guts."

  As she spoke, Rose stepped from her office and signaled them to return.

  "That didn't take long," said Bogdanovic.

  Stepping aside as they entered the office, Rose said, "Because we have no desire to delay the apprehension of a murderer, and in as much as there is a possibility that our raw tape of the news conference may provide a clue to the killer's identity, you may review the tape at this time, Sergeant. However, should you decide that you need a copy of the material, you will be required to present a subpoena. Locating the tape and setting it up will take a few minutes. You're in luck, by the way. The man who shot the tape is on the premises."

  "That would be Bobby Fields?"

  "Yes. I gather you know him."

  "We're old friends professionally."

  "I expect you'll find him not quite so friendly. Because of your dirty trick of keeping cameras away from the scene while you spirited away the body, we had to run the murder as the second story on last night's broadcast. The decision to keep the cameras away until the body was removed thwarted the basic precept of TV news. If it bleeds, it leads. We were forced to use file footage of Janus and a small portion of the video of the news conference. With all due respect to you, Ms. Dane, it wasn't very exciting."

  WEARING A RED-AND-BLUE plaid shirt and faded blue jeans and seated before a row of television screens and a bank of video tape machines, the portly came
raman gently stroked the walrus mustache with obvious pride, turned slowly in a red swivel chair, fixed ice blue eyes on Bogdanovic, and said, "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Screw-the-First-Amendment."

  Bogdanovic made a slight bow. "It's nice to see you again, too, Bobby."

  Lifting himself slightly from the red chair, Fields gave a nod of greeting to Dane. "It's only because you are here, Miss Dane, that I'm restraining myself from fulfilling the desire of every cameraman in this town to let this guy have it in the jaw for keeping us away from that crime scene till there was nothing worth getting on tape. I presume that it is too optimistic of me to expect that an apology might be forthcoming for his outrageous conduct early Sunday morning in Gramercy Park."

  "Bobby, I believe you have the same rule in the news trade that we coppers live by," Bogdanovic said. "Never apologize. Your friends don't need it, and your enemies won't believe you."

  Fields picked up a video cassette and shook it at him. "You owe me for this, Johnny."

  "Duly noted, Bobby."

  The tape went into a playback deck. "If you'll tell me what you're looking for, it might save us a lot of time."

  Bogdanovic said, "I'm looking for shots you may have gotten at the news conference in the hotel lobby of anybody who had a camera."

  "Practically everybody had one."

  With the punch of a button, Fields started the tape.

  "I'm interested in thirty-five-millimeter cameras," Bogdanovic said. "Ones equipped with a flash."

  Fields pondered this a moment, then exclaimed, "I get it! It's that picture in the Graphic. You think somebody at the news conference followed Janus to his car, shot him, photographed the corpse, and sent it to the Graphic. I wondered where that picture came from. It never dawned on me that it might have come from the killer. Does that take the cake for chutzpah, or what?"

  The screen above the tape deck filled with a shot of Wolfe Pack members milling on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.