Cop Job (32 page)

Ross met me in the reception area, so I didn’t have to go through Officer Orlovsky. I felt like royalty. He walked me through the squad room, and no one looked up, so radio silence had been honored. We went into the interrogation room and sat at the table after he scrounged up an ashtray and immediately started stinking up the place with nearly irresistible cigarette smoke.

“Are they coming?” I asked him.

“They are. Edith and Oksana. Veckstrom’s off today, out there firing up the masses, so we’ll have to wait for that.”

“You knew all along,” I said.

He pointed at me with the end of his burning cigarette.

“Suspected. Big difference.”

He tilted back in his chair and rubbed his blossoming gut.

“You were in a tight spot,” I said. “You trusted Sullivan and could have used his help, but he was in a bad way after his wife left him, and didn’t need extra trouble. Better to get him out of the way, which explains why he so easily got the leave to help me in New York and on Oak Point. There was no one else on the force you could trust the same way, not here and not in the city, so you thought, what the hell, get Sam and Jackie involved. Can’t hurt, and they might turn up something.”

Everyone has little tics and petty habits that you barely notice, though often recall when describing the person, which become more prominent the longer you know them, and if you’re their spouse, are usually featured in divorce proceedings.

These things are often most apparent when stress is building, and Ross had a larger than average repertoire. Which probably explained why the cigarette twirling, face rubbing, ear probing, perilous chair leaning, and eye twitching seemed far more conspicuous than usual.

“I’ve made worse decisions,” he said, his grin not completely devoid of humor.

“You suggested Edith Madison do the same. You’re the trusted advisor.”

“Is that what she called me?” he asked.

“She had suspicions of her own. But both of you were constrained by the politics. You were vulnerable to accusations of using police and prosecutorial powers to further her agenda. A resolution had to come from outside the usual channels, the standard process.”

As usual, Ross kept his thoughts close to his vest as I spoke. It might have come naturally, though years investigating homicides and running a police department had undoubtedly honed the skill.

“Don’t forget about your friend Aldergreen,” he said. “You were motivated.”

Sergeant Lausanne opened the door and told Ross that Attorney Swaitkowski was still waiting in another interrogation room. Ross said she could join the party.

“What did I miss,” she asked, dumping her flour-sack purse on the table, “and why did I miss it?”

I brought her up to date as well as I could without giving advantage over to Ross in the cat-and-mouse game we were playing, still not knowing if I was the cat or the mouse.

“Can we be in the interview?” Jackie asked.

Ross put out both hands in an exaggerated display of equanimity.

“Why the hell not,” he said.

So we sat killing time, which for me and Ross involved allusions in half-forgotten Latin, and for Jackie nervous pecking on her smartphone, until Miss Lausanne poked her head in again to announce the arrival of Edith Madison and Oksana Quan. Ross left and Jackie and I waited in silence for about ten minutes, after which the door opened again and Oksana walked in, escorted by Ross Semple, whose hand on her back looked less tender than assertive.

Oksana dropped her leather briefcase on the table and sat across from Jackie and me. She let out a bored huff, ignoring Jackie, but looking at me through half-lidded eyes. Even in the unfriendly fluorescent light, they looked like brilliant, tiny blue worlds.

Ross sat at the head of the table, giving him distance and perspective on all three of us. He took the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, then seemed to have second thoughts, and put them back.

“Miss Quan,” he said, “we know you were admitted to New York University law school based on a manufactured undergraduate record. As soon as we provide the New York State Justice Department with incontrovertible evidence of this fraud, you will be relieved of your responsibilities as assistant district attorney. You understand that.”

Her eyes let go of mine and drifted over in his direction.

“Bully for you,” she said, and started to stand up.

“There’s more,” said Ross, his voice a low rumble. “Sit down.”

She sat back down, a tinge of alarm breaking through the icy cast of her face.

“This is your one opportunity to avoid the most serious charges by showing a willingness to cooperate,” he said. “You’ve had plenty of these conversations yourself, so you know where we’re going.”

“Does Edith know about this?” she asked.

“I guess she does,” said Ross. “She brought it to me in the first place.”

Oksana shrank a few inches into her chair after gathering up her briefcase and squeezing it to her chest.

“I’m saying nothing without counsel present,” she said.

“Fine,” said Ross. “Then I’ll do all the talking.” He decided in favor of lighting up the cigarette, ignoring Oksana’s disgust. “About a year ago, Jaybo Flynn was approached by the Southampton Town Police on suspicion of drug trafficking. Mad Martha’s wholesale seafood business had provided the ideal distribution point for heroin coming in off the fast boats, like Joey Wentworth’s, to be sliced up and packed inside bags of frozen shrimp and local bluefish for shipment Up Island and parts west.

“Flynn revealed to the investigating officer that he had knowledge that would seriously compromise the standing of a certain Suffolk County assistant district attorney. Fatally compromise, from the standpoint of her career. Flynn was desperate for any leverage he could use to avoid arrest, or at least mitigate the subsequent charges. He had no idea just how fortuitous his gambit was. Because, rather than bring this knowledge to the appropriate authorities, the officer approached the ADA in question. He had in mind a deal of his own.”

“You have quite an imagination,” said Oksana.

“Actually, I don’t,” said Ross. “I find it gets in the way of logic and reason.”

It didn’t seem like a good time to bring Einstein into the discussion, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Veckstrom,” said Jackie.

I thought the chief would tell her to keep her mouth zipped as well, but instead he said, “Go ahead, counselor. We’re listening.”

“It wasn’t for the money,” she said. “He had all he’d ever need courtesy of his wife. What he needed was a way to keep that wife happy. He needed status, a position in life commensurate with her place in society. For that, your boss’s job would do just fine. His qualifications were thin, but his rich wife was more than willing to fund a serious campaign against an opponent who hated campaigning, and could be easily portrayed as used up and out of touch.”

“It was still a long shot,” said Ross. “Edith wouldn’t just wilt away in the face of a fight. But maybe she could be taken out some other way. Maybe there was something damaging in her performance as DA, or in her private life, that only her most trusted colleague would know. And as it turned out, like Jaybo Flynn, he hit pay dirt.”

Oksana’s face stayed set in stone, though a touch of pink started to show on her cheeks and on the small bit of skin exposed by her modest silk blouse.

“It was a tidy quid pro quo,” said Jackie. “Jaybo Flynn stayed out of jail, Lionel Veckstrom had a way to eliminate Edith from the race when it was too late for another candidate to take the field, and you got to keep your career. Enhanced when the grateful new DA took the helm. Each of you had something on the other, but that would just strengthen the bond.”

Since Jackie was allowed to blather away, I decided to weigh in.

“Things weren’t quite tidy enough, though, from your point of view,” I said to Oksana. “There was still some cleaning up to do. A few loose ends, in particular Alfie Aldergreen, who set things in motion by spilling your secret to Jaybo while eating a free meal out of the back of Mad Martha’s. With access to the police files on confidential informants, you knew he was Sullivan’s snitch. That was too big a vulnerability. So you circled around to Jaybo, gave him his options, and the son of a bitch took it from there. Eliminating the other two CIs was an extra precaution, and for Jaybo, a nice bonus, since it allowed him to take over Joey Wentworth’s leg of the drug run. Lilly Fremouth was just an innocent bystander.”

“Like Allison,” said Jackie.

I let that sink in before continuing.

“She rang you in,” I said. “You and Jaybo. It was my fault. I told you she went to RISD. I was already another loose end that Jaybo tried to deal with by smashing in my rear windshield with a meat mallet from the restaurant. And running me down with the fish van. And you tried to sic Bennie Gardella on me with some nutso story that I was out to take down the Southampton cops. It was clear that Allison had no memory of the attack, but Jaybo and his partner were committed by now, and gave it another try out on Oak Point, knowing I was gorging myself on fried flounder back at their restaurant. But like Sullivan said, the Acquillos aren’t that easy to dispense with.”

I didn’t share another of Oksana’s strategies for dealing with me, though I’m sure the thought crossed Jackie’s mind.

“I don’t need to sit here and listen to this,” said Oksana.

“I’ll bet we’ll find your DNA in Allison’s apartment,” said Ross. “And Jaybo’s. So yes, you do have to sit here, because in a few minutes you’re going down to processing where we’ll take a sample of your blood, after we snap your picture and get a set of prints. You are familiar with that little ritual, am I right?”

The pink on her cheeks bloomed into red.

“I need an attorney,” she said.

“You do,” said Ross. “Maybe Miss Swaitkowski’s available.”

“Not on your life,” said Jackie.

Ross let Oksana make her call from the interrogation room while the two uniformed officers waited outside. The rest of us walked down the hall to the conference room next to Ross’s office where he met with people he’d rather not have stepping over his stacks of paper.

Edith Madison was already there, holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee between two hands. She looked up at us as we settled in around the table, her face notably thinner and more wrinkled than when I’d seen her last. She was in casual clothes, and her white hair, never fully tamed by the tight bun, was pulled back with a felt-covered headband.

“I owe you all an apology,” she said, without preamble.

“No you don’t,” said Ross.

“Oh, but I do,” she said, in a quiet voice. “Especially for the rough treatment I gave these two.”

“You had no choice,” said Ross. “Oksana had to believe you were appalled by your decision to ask for their help.”

“Apology accepted,” said Jackie, “though I agree it isn’t necessary. I’m used to rough treatment from the DA.”

She didn’t bother including me in all that.

“When did you suspect Oksana?” I asked.

Apologies aside, she didn’t seem to relish speaking with me.

“Veckstrom seemed to know too much about the DA’s office. Nothing that couldn’t leak out one way or the other, but he was too knowledgeable, too in command of our day-to-day challenges and issues. He’s a smart fellow, and I expected him to be good on the stump, but not that good. I didn’t know anything about his relationship with Mr. Flynn or any of that. It wasn’t until I spoke with Ross, who’d heard rumors of police on the take, that the greater suspicions arose.”

I wanted to get more out of her, but Ross got extra fidgety and moved to shoo us out of the room. Before that could happen, I pulled the folded piece of paper out of my back pocket, unfolded it, and put it down in front of her. She took awhile reading it, then looked up at me.

“Where did you get this?” she asked.

“It showed up in my mailbox,” I said. “Don’t know who sent it.”

I told her I’d kept it to myself, so she could stop looking at Jackie and Ross Semple as if we were all in on some conspiracy.

“What do you intend to do now?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s your decision. I’m not dumb enough to stick my nose into something like that.”

She folded the paper up again and slipped it into her purse.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said, and let Ross usher us out the door.

I could hear Jackie sputtering something like “What the hell was that all about?” quietly enough that I could pretend not to hear it.

When we got to reception I asked Ross about Veckstrom. He told me two uniforms had been dispatched to wait for him at his big house on the ocean. They’d pick him up there, presumably away from the eyes and ears of the media.

“I want him to myself before the shit entirely hits the fan,” he said. “That boy’s got some explaining to do.”

“He’s not the only one,” said Jackie.

Back in the fresh air, she didn’t waste a lot of time before saying, “Out with it.”

“It was for your own good,” I said.

“I doubt that.”

I waited until we were safely away from anyone coming in or out of the HQ to tell her.

“After we paid that visit to Fenton’s cousin Mike Gilliam, an envelope showed up in my mailbox, and like I told Edith, nothing inside but a single page.”

She didn’t bother asking the next question, so I didn’t insult her by holding back the answer.

“It was a copy of a bill from Edith’s veterinarian,” I said. “It covered the three days her cat was being treated for some intestinal blockage.”

“On one of those days her husband went out the window,” she said.

“Gilliam probably figured I’d get there eventually, so he did what he could and hoped for the best. If I’d showed you that invoice, you’d be obligated to bring it forward. Not an ideal way for a defense lawyer to build rapport with the district attorney’s office. Anyway, like I said, I want Edith to make the decision herself, either way.”

“This is what Veckstrom and Oksana had waiting as an October surprise,” she said. “Leaking Edith’s grief counseling was just a shot across the bow.”