Animal Instinct

by Rosenfelt, David

I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon and basically getting nowhere. After dinner I talk about it with Dani; she’s become a frequent sounding board for me. It’s good to have someone to talk to other than Simon, someone who doesn’t fake looking interested in the hope of getting a biscuit.

  “There are two ways of looking at it,” I say. “One is that Marshall was lying, that he’s just a good actor. He told Andy that if we tried to contact him, he would deny everything, and that’s what he did. That probably makes the most sense, despite Laurie’s feeling about it.”

  “Then we’re back to where we started,” Dani says. “No way to bring in the blackmail scam.”

  “Right. The other way to think about it is that Laurie was right. Marshall wasn’t lying; he truly had no idea what she was talking about it. His denial was real.”

  “Where does that leave us?”

  “That somebody is pulling the strings and has been pulling them all along. And that the whole idea of blackmail is wrong, that it was an attempt to lead us in the wrong direction.”

  “A successful attempt.”

  “For sure. We’ve been on the other end of those strings since the beginning. They keep leading us to dead ends. We are going where we’re told to go, and when we arrive, there’s nothing there.”

  “So if it’s not blackmail, then it’s something else.”

  “Which brings us back to square one. We’ve never been able to figure out what that something else is. If we have that, we’ll have everything. But we’re no closer to knowing that than we were at the beginning.”

  “What about Richard Mahler?” Dani asks. “If Marshall wasn’t really part of a blackmail scheme, then why did he panic the way he did when Andy threatened him? Why did he commit suicide? And was he really the Rico that Lisa Yates referred to in that email?”

  Those are all excellent questions, and I hadn’t thought of them. “To quote Chris Berman of ESPN,” I say, “‘Let’s go to the tape.’”

  I take out my phone and play the conversation that Andy had with Mahler. Neither Dani nor I had heard it before.

  Mahler: “Mr. Carpenter, I am going to have to insist that you stop bothering me. I will turn this over to my attorney if I have to. I am not interested in anything you or your client has to say.”

  Andy: “How about Harold Marshall? Are you interested in anything he has to say? Because he tells a fascinating story. Actually, not to worry … you can read about it in the paper.”

  Mahler: “I don’t know any Harold Marshall.”

  Andy: “It took you all that time to come up with that? That’s the best you got?”

  Mahler: “I’m hanging up now.”

  Andy: “You do and you are throwing away your last chance to deal with this. Because the next person you will be talking to about it is a homicide cop. That won’t go well for you, Rico.”

  Mahler: “What do you want?”

  Andy: “First of all, I want you to know that we know everything. Once Marshall comes forward and they start to turn over more rocks, then everyone will know everything. The only thing we don’t know for sure is who is above you. I assume it’s Musgrove, but I can’t be sure. But here’s the thing, Rico … when something like this goes south, goes public, you don’t want to be the top guy. That’s a bad place to be. You want to be the guy who identified the top guy. That is the only way to play it, believe me.”

  Mahler: “I was a nobody in this. I just did what I was told.”

  Andy: “I know that. But you need to take care of yourself now.”

  Mahler: “You don’t know Musgrove. He will come after me.”

  Andy: “Not if he’s in custody.”

  Mahler: “I don’t kill people.”

  Andy: “Then you need to tell the police, and my jury, who does.”

  Mahler: “I need to think about this. Please give me until tomorrow.”

  Andy: “No longer than that. But understand that it is coming out no matter what. Your only decision is which side to be on.”

  Mahler: “I understand.”

  Andy: “Don’t blow this one, Rico. You’ve only got the one shot.”

  When the tape is finished, I say, “I want to play this again.” So I do, listening carefully to every word Mahler says.

  When we’ve heard it for the second time, Dani says, “Maybe it wasn’t Harold Marshall that Mahler was worried about. He says he never heard of Marshall. Maybe he was reacting to Andy calling him ‘Rico.’ It wasn’t until he heard that that he started to sound worried.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that voice on the call … that wasn’t Richard Mahler.”

  I can tell that Andy has doubts that I’m right about the Mahler phone call.

  I only met with Mahler once, and voices can sound different over the phone than in person. But I’m good with voices, and I am 100 percent positive that I am right. Well, maybe 90 percent. Or 80.

  If I am right, and it wasn’t Mahler on the phone, then he was murdered. Pure and simple. There is no other credible explanation for his death.

  I suspect we can find a number of other people who were closer to Mahler that could confirm or deny his voice. But there is time for that later; right now we have to figure out what it means, and how it can help us … how it can help me. I am officially a self-centered defendant.

  I mentally go back over all the times we thought we had something and were thwarted. One thing that sticks out in my mind is Steven Landry. Andy and I thought he was lying to us when we talked to him about his mother, Doris. She had been the person Lisa Yates emailed about her fear of Rico, and whose obituary was one of three in her suitcase.

  When I called him back to ask about his mother’s friends, all of whom he said he had contacted to inform them of her death, he got belligerent and refused to help. That has bugged me periodically, but I never followed up on it.

  Now is as good a time as any.

  I call Sam first thing in the morning. “Sam, can you access Doris Landry’s email account? I want to know who some of her friends were … who were the people she emailed most often. We know that Lisa Yates was one of them, but who were the others?”

  “No problem,” Sam says, as usual.

  “I’ll be in court. Just call me when you have something; I’ll get your message and call you back.”

  “Will do.”

  When I get to court, Andy seems to be taking my claim that it wasn’t Mahler on the call more seriously, or at least he’s contemplating what it might mean if I am right.

  “We still don’t know what’s going on … where they’re making their money,” he says. “But if that wasn’t Mahler, then it means he was murdered, and it means they’re cleaning up all the loose ends.”

  “I agree, and Jason Musgrove is the last one standing.”

  “The last one that we know about. Musgrove might be a lying piece of garbage and a total thief, but I’m not sure he has the connections or guts to be arranging all this violence.”

  I tell Andy about my instructions to Sam about Doris Landry’s emails, and he approves. “If we throw enough crap against the wall,” he says, “we might get something that sticks.” It’s an interesting legal strategy.

  Today our defense will focus on the attempt by Carlos Evaldi to murder me in my home. To tell the story, Andy calls Lieutenant Scott Leeman, a homicide detective who was with Pete Stanton when they arrived at the house that night. Andy could have had Pete tell the story as part of his earlier testimony, but Andy felt that the more respected cops that testify during the defense case, the better. He also plans to recall Pete later on a different subject.

  After setting up that Dani called 911, Andy asks Lieutenant Leeman what they found when they arrived at the house that night.

  “A man named Carlos Evaldi was in Mr. Douglas’s bedroom. He was deceased, having been shot once in the head. A gun was still in his hand.”

  Dylan predictably objects and asks for a conference.
This time Judge Wallace sends the jury out and hears arguments in open court. I’m glad about that, because it means I can hear it.

  “Your Honor, Mr. Carpenter is conducting a fishing expedition on a scale that I personally have never seen before. Are we going to hear about every murder ever committed? Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman? Sharon Tate? Unless and until Mr. Carpenter makes a showing otherwise, they have as much to do with the case we are trying as Carlos Evaldi.”

  Andy shakes his head as if saddened by what he is hearing. “Your Honor, Mr. Douglas was actively investigating the murders of both Lisa Yates and Gerald Kline. It is a fair inference to draw that this was an attempt to stop those investigations in their tracks.

  “The larger point is that people related to this case have been dropping like flies: the murders have been piling up since day one. The jury has a right to know about them and to decide whether it makes sense to pluck Mr. Douglas out of the chaos and charge him.”

  Judge Wallace has gone too far down this road to make a U-turn now. He allows the witness, with a half-hearted admonition to Andy that he needs to demonstrate relevance.

  The jury is called in again, and Andy goes back to questioning Lieutenant Leeman. “Had any other shots been fired?”

  “Yes. There were three bullets fired into pillows on the bed. They had obviously been placed that way to make it appear that Mr. Douglas was sleeping in it.”

  “Were you able to determine how Mr. Evaldi entered the premises?”

  “He disabled the burglar alarm and entered through a rear door.”

  “Does that take expertise?” Andy asks.

  “Considerable. This was clearly not a novice at work.”

  “Was Mr. Evaldi known to law enforcement?”

  “Yes. He had served two jail terms, one for manslaughter. He was commonly considered a hired gun.”

  “Was there anyone else in the house?”

  “Yes, a Ms. Dani Kendall. She said that when Mr. Douglas’s dog alerted them to the intruder, Mr. Douglas instructed her to go into the closet with the phone to call nine-one-one. She did so and was in there when the shooting took place.”

  Andy turns Lieutenant Leeman over to Dylan, who appears to shrug Leeman’s testimony off as unimportant to the matter at hand. “Lieutenant, can we assume you conducted an investigation of this incident?”

  “Of course. It is ongoing.”

  “Good. Have you discovered in your ongoing investigation anything that connects this incident to the murder of Gerald Kline?”

  “Not so far.”

  “Nothing at all?” Dylan asks, pressing the point.

  “No.”

  “Lieutenant, how many years have you been on the police force?”

  “Next month will be twelve years.”

  “Thank you for your service. There has been testimony that Mr. Douglas was on the force for twenty-five years.”

  “I believe that’s correct,” Leeman says, though he wasn’t asked a question.

  “Have you made enemies in your twelve years? I’m talking about criminals, perhaps those you’ve arrested?”

  “Of course.”

  “Some of them violent criminals?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s par for the course, isn’t it? For a cop who has served twelve years, like yourself, or even more so for one who has served twenty-five, like Mr. Douglas. The more years you serve, the more arrests you make, the more enemies you have?”

  “I can’t speak for Mr. Douglas.”

  Dylan smiles. “I’m not asking you to. Would you be shocked if someone tried to exact revenge on you for something you’ve done in your capacity as a police officer?”

  “I try to guard against it.”

  “As Mr. Douglas did when he shot Mr. Evaldi?”

  “I don’t know Mr. Evaldi’s motivation, whether he was looking for revenge or had a different motive entirely. As I said, it’s under investigation.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. Good luck with your investigation.”

  During the break, I check my messages and there is one from Sam asking that I call him back.

  The first thing he says when he gets on the phone is “Doris Landry’s email account has been wiped clean.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The account still exists, but there are no longer any emails there. They would be somewhere on the provider’s server, but there’s no way for me to access them.”

  “Who could have wiped it?”

  “Anyone with the password. Her son had it, right?”

  “Apparently so,” I say.

  “So it could have been him.”

  “Sam, I need you to do something else. It’s a big ask.… Do you mind?”

  “Are you kidding? I love this stuff. You know, I’m licensed to carry.”

  “I don’t think there will be any shooting. But I need you to go down to Somers Point and locate some friends of Doris Landry. Get their contact information, phone numbers, and find one or more who are willing to talk to me. Can you do it first thing in the morning?”

  “Of course. You want me to call you from down there with the names?”

  “If you get any.” I don’t say so, but I don’t think there is a chance in hell that he will get any names. I don’t think Doris Landry had any friends.

  “IT’S decision time,” Andy says, and I know what he means.

  We are almost at the end of the defense case, and we need to decide whether I am going to testify. I want to tell my story, but I also trust Andy’s instincts and expertise in this situation more than my own. “What do you think?” I ask.

  “The positive is that you could explain how your clothing and knife got on the scene. It’s not a terribly credible explanation, even though it’s true. But it fills in a blank that the jury must be wondering about.

  “The negatives are that your explanation, and everything else you say, will be viewed as self-serving. And there is really no information that you have, other than the clothing and knife, that we haven’t already gotten in. And of course the big problem is that you would be exposed to cross-examination.”

  “It would not be my first time on the stand.”

  “I’m aware of that.” He’s kind enough not to mention that he once manhandled me on a cross-examination; that could now be factoring into his decision.

  “So bottom line?” I ask.

  “I don’t think you should do it. I think we’re muddying the water enough to at least get a hung jury. But I obviously could be wrong. And it’s your call, one hundred percent. If you want to tell your story, I will help you tell it.”

  “No, I trust your judgment. I won’t testify.” Then, “I’m anxious to hear from Sam from down in Somers Point.”

  Andy nods. “I understand. But you could be surprised again. He might come back with her entire mah-jongg team.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Either way, let’s not count on solving the crime before the end of the trial because it’s not likely to happen. Let’s focus on getting twelve not-guilty votes.”

  Andy calls Stephanie Downes, Gerald Kline’s partner, to the stand. Her testimony is quick and targeted. He gets her to tell the jury that she went to high school with Richard Mahler, that Kline recommended him, and that he went on to be the top computer guy at Ardmore. Most important, she mentions that in high school Mahler’s nickname was Rico.

  There is no mention of Mahler’s death in her direct testimony, and because her testimony has done no damage to Dylan’s case, he asks no questions in cross-examination.

  Next Andy recalls Pete Stanton. He introduces as evidence the email sent by Lisa Yates to Doris Landry. “Captain Stanton, could you read this part of it to the jury, please.”

  Pete reads the words of Doris Landry: “‘I’m afraid to ask. But is there anything new with your situation?’”

  Andy then asks Pete to read Lisa Yates’s words in response, which he does: “‘It’s getting worse. Gerald doesn’t thi
nk that Rico will do anything. I think he’s crazy.… Rico doesn’t just dispense this stuff for nothing. He’s a dangerous guy; he’s connected to people. I’m afraid to leave my house.’”

  “Based on this email, written not long before her death, would you say that Lisa Yates believed she was in danger, physical danger, from someone named Rico?”

  Pete nods. “I would, yes.”

  “And would you also say that Lisa believed someone named Gerald was involved in this, and in danger himself, also from someone named Rico?”

  “Yes.”

  “During the course of your investigation of this case, have you encountered another Gerald besides Gerald Kline?”

  “No.”

  “Captain Stanton, are you aware of earlier testimony by Stephanie Downes saying that Richard Mahler’s nickname was Rico? That he was called that going back to high school?”

  “I am.”

  “During the course of your investigation of this case, have you encountered another person named or nicknamed Rico besides Richard Mahler?”

  “No, I have not.”

  “Captain Stanton, based on this information, will you be interviewing Richard Mahler?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s dead. He was found hanged in his home a few days ago. The death was ruled by the medical examiner as a suicide, but the investigation is ongoing.”

  “Thank you. No further questions.”

  Dylan gets up quickly, intent on cleaning up the mess that Andy created for him. “Captain, let’s read the email again, if you don’t mind.” Dylan points to the paper. “This paragraph will suffice.”

  Pete reads, “‘It’s getting worse. Gerald doesn’t think that Rico will do anything. I think he’s crazy.… Rico doesn’t just dispense this stuff for nothing. He’s a dangerous guy; he’s connected to people. I’m afraid to leave my house.’”

  “After you read this the first time, you said that it meant that Lisa Yates was saying that Gerald, whoever he might be, was in danger. Can you tell us where in the email it says that?”

  “It’s an inference I made.”

  “Ah, an inference. For the purpose of this part of your testimony, can you just stick to the facts?”