Eddie Flynn 02-The Plea

by Steve Cavanagh

  ‘Anyone in NYPD who could do you a solid and not go running to Zader about it?’

  ‘I know a guy, but why NYPD?’ he said.

  I handed Kennedy a single page from the file.

  ‘I need the tracker report for this vehicle. FBI wouldn’t have access to that system, right?’

  ‘No, we don’t. Come to think of it I don’t know if my guy in NYPD has access to that system. But I can try,’ he said.

  ‘It’s important, I’m beginning to piece this together. I’m relying on you. The prelim starts in just over seven hours, and we’ve got one last thing to check.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Security camera footage of the cops working the crime scene.’

  ‘Let’s go to my office. You can watch it there,’ said Medrano.

  We exited David’s apartment. Kennedy punched the button to call the elevator and hung back, waiting for Medrano to lock up. I looked at the CCTV camera, just over the bank of elevators, and moved backward a little, stopped.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Kennedy.

  ‘The camera footage I watched shows David hesitate just after he left the apartment for the last time. He was leaving and then he kind of paused around here and turned back toward the door.’

  I examined the door but couldn’t see much with Medrano’s bulk blocking my view. Kneeling, I checked the carpet; maybe David dropped something and it rolled underneath the table, but I couldn’t see anything.

  ‘Looking for something?’ said Medrano.

  ‘Not really. David stopped and turned around just after he left the apartment. I saw it today when I watched the footage. Thought he might’ve dropped something or … I don’t know.’

  ‘If he dropped something, it’s likely the cleaners picked it up. We can always check the camera,’ said Medrano.

  ‘You can’t see it on the footage. David’s blocking the view,’ I said, pointing toward the camera.

  ‘Well, we can always look at the other camera,’ said Medrano.

  ‘What camera?’

  ‘The hidden camera that covers the stairwell,’ said Medrano, pointing to an air vent on the west wall.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  Medrano’s office, in the basement of the building, looked more like a TV studio. He had a bank of fifteen flat-screens on one wall, each showing a different live feed from the building’s security system. Beyond this room was the locker area for the guards, and behind the monitors there were around half a dozen desks, each with a computer and a phone.

  ‘So, when David’s neighbor, Mr Gershbaum, made the emergency call, that call came through to somebody in this room, is that right?’

  ‘Right,’ said Medrano.

  ‘And the security system logs the date and time of the call?’

  ‘Yes, and the security officer deals with the police alert,’ said Medrano.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Kennedy.

  ‘When a resident makes an emergency call to us, our system sends a text to nine one one telling them we’ve had a call. Unless our operator contacts nine one one within five minutes to tell them everything is fine, NYPD send a patrol car to check it out. It’s like a fail-safe. We’ve got around twenty of Manhattan’s super-rich in this building. If a crew tried to rob us, the first thing they’d do is disable the security control room. So if a resident or a member of staff managed to get to an emergency phone, even though we might be incapacitated, somebody from nine one one will know there’s an emergency, and if we don’t stand them down, the cops’ll come running.’

  ‘I didn’t know that. All I have is a record of security calling nine one one when the body was found. Kennedy, you think you can get me a record of the text?’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Can I see the whole feed from the camera that NYPD took their footage from? I want to make sure that it hasn’t been edited,’ I said.

  Medrano relieved the security guard at the bank of monitors and started calling up the footage from the hard drive. Within moments, the screen directly in front of us went blank, and then an image appeared of the security guards knocking on Gershbaum’s door before letting themselves in.

  ‘Hang on. I’ll rewind,’ said Medrano.

  ‘No, it’s fine. Just let it play,’ I said.

  A guard came out of Child’s apartment and made a call. Nothing happened for a few minutes, so Medrano scrolled through the digital footage until the first pair of cops arrived. Medrano appeared on the screen, and he let the cops into Child’s apartment. He fast-forwarded the footage, and we watched Medrano pacing up and down the hallway at high speed until the detectives arrived, followed by a team of CSIs in white overalls to work the evidence. I paid attention to each figure as they moved and asked Medrano to slow it down so I could get a good look at all of the officers. There were periods where there was no one on-screen, and Medrano could fast-forward the footage so that a minute of real time played out on the screen in less than three seconds. After twenty minutes or so of Medrano fast-forwarding the footage, I yelled out, ‘Stop.’

  Immediately, Medrano paused the video. I knew then that I had a hand to play in court in the morning.

  ‘What am I looking at?’ said Kennedy.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘But I’m going to find out. I’ll need to see the footage for the whole day. Can I get a copy of this?’

  The head of security rubbed his chin. ‘I don’t see why not. The cops took the entire day’s footage, too. Oh, did you want a copy of the footage from the vent camera?’

  ‘Let me see it first,’ I said.

  ‘How come the cops didn’t take a copy of this footage from the vent cam?’ asked Kennedy.

  Medrano cleared his throat, looked at this shoes, and then raised his head to address Kennedy.

  ‘Look, there’s a lot of wealthy, famous people who live in this building. We watch everything, and in many ways, we see nothing. Know what I mean? The paparazzi have been trying to buy somebody, anybody, in this building who’ll tip them off when a hooker, a dealer, or another celebrity visits an apartment in this building. We get well paid for our silence and for looking the other way. Up until a year ago there was no camera there. We kind of had an unwritten rule that the stairs were out of bounds for cameras. There was a burglary. We caught the guy and as a compromise we installed hidden cameras on each floor. The cops didn’t ask to see this footage, and we never showed it to them. This is the only camera that covers the door to the stairs. It’s a balancing act. Lot of potential residents don’t want to live under a security camera, not with their lifestyles. So we have to try to make them feel both secure and anonymous.’

  After scrolling through menus and entering a date and time search, the footage appeared on the screen above the control panel. It was a side view. We watched David and Clara enter the apartment. Medrano sped up the footage until we saw David again, backpack in tow, hooded. He slowed the footage, rewound and played it. David didn’t drop anything on the floor. I could see his hands clearly. He turned his back on the door and walked out of view toward the elevator.

  ‘Stop,’ said Kennedy. ‘Did you see that?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  Medrano backed up, played the footage again.

  ‘Right there,’ said Kennedy.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Can you zoom in?’ said Kennedy.

  ‘Sure. Where?’ said Medrano.

  The FBI man pointed to the mirror in the hallway. In response, Medrano used two large dials on either side of the keyboard to focus on the mirror. The close-up picture was grainy now, but much larger.

  ‘Play it again,’ said Kennedy.

  As the footage played, I couldn’t help but let out a gasp when I saw it.

  ‘Holy shit,’ said Medrano.

  The three of us remained silent for a time, our eyes transfixed on the image Medrano had frozen on the screen.

  ‘Are you sure the cops didn’t watch this footage?’ I asked.

&n
bsp; ‘Yes. They had all they needed from the main camera,’ said Medrano.

  ‘So are you going to give this to the DA?’ said Kennedy.

  I thought for a second. Shook my head. I didn’t want Zader to get a heads-up on this evidence. It didn’t prove David was innocent, but if handled in the right way, it might just give him a shot.

  ‘No. Better that this comes out in open court. Public and messy,’ I said.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  David Child must’ve heard me trying to park the Honda in the driveway of the Lizard’s home. He stood at the open front door, hands in his pockets, his right leg shaking.

  ‘Am I clear?’ he said, as I folded myself out of the cramped driver’s seat.

  ‘Not yet.’

  I told him everything that had happened at the airport over two energy drinks and half a pot of coffee. No wonder David didn’t sleep. Those drinks tasted like gasoline and OJ. I didn’t tell him about El Grito. He didn’t need any more pressure.

  ‘It stands at twenty years – or fight the case and risk a life sentence. The DA has his ballistics now, identifying the gun found in your car as the same weapon that fired the rounds that killed Clara. I read the report from a Dr Peebles, the ballistics expert. It’s a pretty straight report. Only thing that stood out was that Peebles couldn’t find a serial number on the murder weapon. But that won’t cut us any slack.’

  He tried to speak. I could see the panic building in his gut, tightening every sinew, stretching every vein, strangling his breath. His head sank to the table.

  Then he surprised me again.

  ‘At least your wife is off the hook, from the law, I mean. At least that’s one good thing that’s come out of this. I could tell by the way the district attorney behaved in court earlier. I just knew. He would never give me a deal. I knew it,’ he said, his fists thumping the table.

  A long sigh, his fingers extended. Then his body appeared to relax. It was almost like watching someone take the tension out of a coiled spring.

  ‘I’m just thankful your family is safe,’ he said. And he meant it.

  ‘Christine has the threat from the firm hanging over her. That won’t stop until this charge goes away. You’ve got the means to hurt the firm, and they won’t rest until that threat is removed permanently. Your only chance is to beat this charge tomorrow and pray that the task force takes down the firm before they get to you.’

  ‘But your wife is out of this now. She’s safe. You could just walk away. Go be with your family, I’d … I’d understand.’

  Even staring at the prospect of a life sentence, David was thinking of others.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘Because you need help, because I’ve let you down enough. I think you should tell the DA to go to hell. That’s bad legal advice, but in truth, I’m not much of a lawyer.’

  ‘Really, so what are you good at?’ said David.

  ‘Hustling. Grifting. Con artistry. And because of that I’ve almost worked out how you were framed. But proving it is something else. We do have one new piece of evidence that has potential, but I have to play it right.’

  I told him about the footage I’d seen on the hidden vent cam.

  ‘I … I … don’t remember that.’

  ‘From the angle, I don’t think you saw it. You must have been aware of it somehow, because you turned around and then stopped.’

  ‘I didn’t know what it was at the time. Clara was trying to help me with that aspect of my personality. The compulsiveness. I suppose it worked, some of the time.’

  ‘What we need now is the rest of the story. This won’t work unless we can explain the setup.’

  From my visit to David’s building I had the beginnings of a theory – how he could’ve been framed. But there were still too many uncertainties and unanswered questions. I didn’t have it all. Not yet. And I didn’t see any point in telling him how I thought it had gone down. For a start, it was so elaborate, so risky – it was a miracle that it had worked out. So far we’d found one mistake. I was sure there would be others.

  ‘Did you meet Langhiemer?’ he said.

  I showed David the picture I’d taken on my phone.

  ‘He looks pissed at you,’ said David.

  ‘Yeah, there’s something going on there. Does he have a girlfriend?’

  ‘I don’t know, probably.’

  ‘I can’t rule him out, but I can’t see how he figures in this at the moment.’

  A sudden pain shot through my skull, blinding me. I’d had no sleep in more than twenty-four hours and it didn’t look like I was going to get any meaningful shut-eye that night. I closed one eye to the pain, sat up, and drained the last of the coffee from one of the Lizard’s mugs that bore the slogan LIZARDS DO IT NAKED. It was almost three a.m., and the sky was just about to change from smoke black to a burgeoning promise of the morning.

  ‘He’s the only one with the money and the power to do it,’ said David.

  ‘But why? Corporate war is one thing, but murder is a whole different bag. Do you really think he’s that ruthless? He’d kill an innocent girl to frame you?’

  David rubbed his chin, then thought better of it and plucked three wet wipes from the pack and began to clean his fingers.

  I tried Christine’s cell for about the twentieth time. Still nothing. I told myself they were okay, they were headed for the open country, in the middle of nowhere, so there may not be a phone signal.

  ‘So what happens tomorrow?’ said David.

  Folding away the files, I got to my feet, ready to find the Lizard’s couch and at least try to get some sleep.

  ‘We fight. At the moment we don’t have enough to win. Hopefully Kennedy will come through. In fact, I’m sure he will. I left him at your building – he’s searching through the camera footage, trying to clear up a few things. He’s also trying to find some information that will help us. It won’t be easy to get, but he’ll make it happen.’

  ‘So, he’s the determined type.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. He’s more like a stubborn son of a bitch.’

  Child looked me up and down, shook his head.

  ‘I know you’ll do your best, but I can’t see this hearing going my way. Whoever set me up saw to that.’

  Placing the files on the coffee table, I sat back down and rubbed my temples.

  ‘David, there’s always a chance,’ I said.

  ‘Because I’m telling the truth?’

  ‘No, because I’m representing you, and I don’t believe you killed anyone. I’m sure that’s true, but the truth isn’t enough. This isn’t about the truth. No trial is ever about the truth. It’s about what can or can’t be proven. It’s a game. And tomorrow we’re playing to win.’

  David got up and held out his hand, a brave gesture for him. I shook it.

  I settled on the Lizard’s couch, but couldn’t sleep. I thought over everything that had happened that day – went over the various ways that the setup for Clara’s murder might have worked out. I called Kennedy.

  ‘You still awake?’ I said.

  ‘I’m awake. I’m waiting for people to get back to me. I think I’ll be able to get you everything you need.’

  ‘That’s great. Mind if I run something past you?’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘The car accident. David’s car was hit on purpose. Whoever orchestrated the accident knew that the air bag residue could easily be mistaken for gunshot residue.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Kennedy.

  ‘So, you’ll look into it?’

  ‘Look into what?’

  I sighed. ‘I had to buy that article online directly from the university. Maybe whoever framed David got their information from the same source.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll look into it. You also asked me to look into somebody else for the murder. What was the guy’s name again?’

  I told Kennedy all I knew about Bernard Langhiemer.

  ‘I never heard of him, but …’ He
paused.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said Langhiemer took out some unfriendly bloggers by loading their computers with child exploitation images?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s one sick individual,’ I said.

  ‘It may be nothing, or it may be something. I saw the video of the interviews between Dell and the informant, Farooq, from last year. Mostly they talk about the firm, its history, Ben Harland being corrupted by Gerry Sinton – that kind of thing. But at one point Dell offers Farooq a deal for testifying. Farooq said that unless he got immunity, he would fight the charges against him.’

  ‘So …’

  ‘So Farooq claimed he never saw any of those images before. He said he’d been framed.’

  ‘Take a look at Langhiemer for me, see what else you can dig up,’ I said.

  Kennedy stifled a yawn and said, ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Don’t suppose you’d give me an alarm call at seven a.m.?’

  PART THREE

  THE COVER STORY

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  16 hours until the shot

  At 4:05 a.m. the call woke me.

  I’d been asleep for less than an hour. Heaving the upper half of my body off the couch, I swung my legs to the floor, knocked over a glass of water and just managed to grab my phone before it fell into the pool of liquid on the floor.

  ‘Yeah? Eddie Flynn here.’

  The caller had already hung up. It was Christine. I dialed again – voice mail.

  For the next half hour I hit redial – no connection. I knew she’d be in Virginia, in a sparsely populated area fifty miles from the nearest town. Cursing myself for not going with her, I thought of them huddled together. Christine and Carmel would put on a brave face for Amy – that would sharpen Christine and keep her focused.

  I couldn’t get back to sleep, my mind racing with possibilities. The house was quiet, still. A cold coffee and David’s file sat in front of me. I put down my cell, opened the papers, and read them all again.