Muzzled

by David Rosenfelt

“There was a boat nearby when it exploded. They notified the Coast Guard, who immediately sent a boat out to investigate. Once they had reason to believe it was a homicide, they called us in.”

  “And you went out to the scene?”

  “I did; I was on call that day. We have our own craft, so I commissioned one and went out there with other members of my team, and a forensics team as well.”

  “What did you find there?” Trell asks.

  “Not much. Some floating wreckage, which the forensics people captured and brought back to shore. No traces of any survivors; nor were there any bodies.”

  “Did you send any divers down there?”

  Gerdes nods. “They followed a short time afterwards, but as I understand it, the water was too deep and the current too strong for any reasonable chance of finding human remains, and they did not.”

  “Were you able to interview any witnesses?”

  “Yes, the people on the boat that reported the explosion.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “Came back and reported to Captain Shenton, William Shenton. He’s in charge of the Homicide Division.”

  “Thank you. No further questions.”

  I have little to get from Sergeant Gerdes on cross-examination. He’s not an important witness; nothing he said incriminated Alex Vogel, and there is no question that he is telling the truth.

  His testimony just starts to set the stage for the key witnesses to follow. But even though the jury will probably not remember or consider anything about his testimony when they deliberate, I need to be careful how I handle him.

  I want to make some points, simply to show that we are not rolling over and that we have a case to make. But I don’t want to come down hard on him since that will make me look argumentative and badgering. There will be time for that later; doing it now would just irritate the jury and create sympathy for Gerdes.

  “Sergeant Gerdes, at the time you were out there on the water, did you have any personal knowledge of what caused the explosion?”

  “No.”

  “But subsequently you came to believe it was an explosive device.”

  “Yes.”

  “If there was such a device, do you know who brought it onto the boat?”

  “I do not.”

  “Do you know when it was put on the boat?”

  “I don’t.”

  He’s a man of few words; when it comes to cross-examinations, I prefer free talkers. “Do you know if it was set off accidentally or intentionally?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “You couldn’t say because you don’t know?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “If you know, when the boat was docked at the pier on a regular basis, was it somehow locked away? Or could anyone have approached it and even boarded it?”

  “It wasn’t inaccessible,” he says somewhat grudgingly.

  “Just to clear up the double negative, are you saying it was accessible?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was there as part of my investigation, and I was able to walk right up to all of the boats, without any guards or anyone there to stop me. Based on your understanding, my experience was not unusual, was it?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you, no further questions.”

  Next up is Coast Guard captain Peter Lockman, who commanded the ship that was first on the scene after receiving the report from the people on the boat near the explosion.

  Captain Lockman has even less to say than Gerdes did, and what little he does say simply repeats Gerdes’s testimony. Once he determined from the reporting witnesses that they believed homicides had taken place, he called the New Jersey State Police.

  That basically ended the Coast Guard involvement, though they stayed out there to help protect the integrity of the scene.

  I don’t ask Lockman any questions. I made my points with Gerdes and have no need to revisit them.

  Judge Mahomes adjourns the court for the day. Before the bailiff takes Vogel away, he asks, “How do you think it went?”

  “The trial hasn’t started yet, Alex.”

  Big Tony Lynch’s body was found propped up against a Laundromat door at Park Avenue and Thirty-third Street.

  It was discovered by the owner, who as usual arrived at 5:00 A.M. to open the place, fill the vending machines, and make sure the patrons had quarters to access by inserting one-and five-dollar bills.

  She screamed when she saw him, and in the early-morning silence the scream echoed through the streets.

  Greatly increasing the horror of the scene was that while Tony’s body was wedged in the Laundromat doorway, his head was resting against the door of the convenience store next door.

  That street corner is just ten blocks from our house on Forty-second Street and Eighteenth Avenue. When Laurie was out for a morning run, she saw the commotion and stopped to see what happened. A cop who she knew from her days on the force told her the details.

  She cut her run short to come back to the house, a sure sign that she considers it an important development. If I were out running, I would cut the run short if … never mind, it’s a hypothetical that is not realistic. I would never be running through the streets; that’s why they invented cars.

  On her way home she calls Corey and asks him to come right over. We have to figure out what this development means, other than that the world will have to go on without Big Tony. Corey is here within five minutes after Laurie gets home, and he has Simon in tow, much to Tara’s delight.

  “This has to be about us,” she says, after she tells me what happened.

  “I agree. Can’t be a coincidence. The question is why, and I can think of two answers.”

  “Which are?” she prompts.

  “The more likely one is that Tony was supposed to kill me the other night and he failed. When Phillips and Bledsoe failed to kill Alex Vogel, their punishment was death, so this is consistent with the pattern.

  “The other possibility is that Victor found out that Tony gave us his name and was less than pleased with it.”

  “How would he have found out?” she asks.

  Corey answers, “No way to tell. Could be that Tony told one of his people, or even Russo. Big Tony’s brain, even when it was attached to his body, was not the sharpest.”

  “So you think this is Victor’s work, rather than Russo’s?” Laurie asks. “Because he also told us that Russo was involved, at least in assigning Tony to work with Victor.”

  I nod. “The decapitation is not Russo’s style; Russo would have had someone put a bullet in Tony’s head and leave his body in the park. Or leave it where no one could find it. The boat explosion was not how Russo operates, and this isn’t either.”

  Laurie is nodding as I’m talking. “Absolutely. This was about sending a message. Russo wouldn’t have to send anyone a message; he’s a known quantity. Victor is a newcomer, so he has to establish fear. People will think twice before they cross him.”

  “I wonder how Russo feels about this,” I say. “He loans out people to Victor, three that we know of, and they all wind up dead. You would think Russo might feel some resentment over that.”

  “Maybe the message was meant for him.”

  I nod. “Maybe. If he sits back and takes it, then he’s either afraid of Victor and whoever he has brought with him, or he’s making enough money that he’s willing to suck it up. Either way he must be worried as hell. In a way he has become Victor’s employee, and the life expectancy of Victor’s employees seems fairly short.”

  These are all interesting theories, but for our purposes they aren’t terribly important. Our focus is not on who actually blew up the boat and killed the two Pharmacon employees; we have no doubt that it was done by Phillips and Bledsoe, under orders from Victor through Big Tony.

  “I think Russo is the key. He can lead us to Victor,” Corey says.

  “How?”

  “Physically. I would predict that any past or future meetings between t
he two of them did not and will not take place at Russo’s house. It’s a status thing; Victor is the employer here and has the upper hand. He would not want to meet on Russo’s turf.”

  “So?” Laurie prompts.

  “So I set up a stakeout. It shouldn’t be hard; it’s a one-way street out of Russo’s house. On the hours I can’t be there, maybe Willie can take over.”

  I shake my head. “Willie can’t do it. Russo and his people know him.”

  “I can sub for you when you can’t be there,” Laurie says.

  I think this is a good idea, except for Laurie’s involvement. But I have no chance of winning the argument, and in truth she is smart and knows what she is doing.

  “Okay. As long as you guys are careful.”

  Corey and Laurie look at each other and smile, no doubt amused that I am offering instructions.

  “You want to give us some stakeout tips?” Laurie asks.

  “Just make sure you have enough doughnuts. Jelly, glazed … doesn’t really matter.”

  “Thanks for sharing that,” Corey says. Then, “This could work, as long as they have a physical meeting. I know Victor would not give Russo home-field advantage; it’s all about the chain of command.”

  That chain of command has been established in my mind. What I have to find a way to do is get it into the jurors’ minds. The initial link of them to our case was Vogel’s recognizing Bledsoe’s face. I would much rather that he not testify himself, but even if he did, the jury would view his story as self-serving and suspect.

  One of the many things I don’t understand is why they focused on Vogel. He is not a scientist, and the extent of his knowledge of the new drug was his having papers in his filing cabinet. Why not focus on Giarrusso, the guy who was creating the drug?

  Was Giarrusso somehow involved with the conspiracy? Then why kill him? Or was he not supposed to be killed? Could they somehow not have known that Giarrusso was on that boat?

  I still don’t know how to get to Victor, or even accurately identify him. Maybe he killed Tony, Phillips, and Bledsoe to punish them for their failure, but it also insulates him. We can’t get to him through his hired muscle because he has killed them off.

  If Giarrusso’s new drug is the source of this conspiracy, then we may just have to wait for it to make an impact in the marketplace, or at least in the scientific community.

  By then Alex Vogel will be a veteran prisoner.

  Patrick Kohler witnessed the explosion out on the ocean.

  He made the initial call to the Coast Guard and thereby set in motion a process that ultimately brought him to this courtroom, called to the stand by Trell.

  “We were out on my friend Bobby Simmons’s boat. It was the four of us, Bobby and his wife, Arlene, and me and my wife, Callie. We had left port the day before and were heading back that afternoon.”

  “And at some point you came into contact with the defendant’s boat, the Doral?”

  “We saw them, yes. We got within maybe a hundred yards. Close enough to wave.”

  “Did they wave back?”

  “Actually, no. We didn’t really see any movement on the deck. We thought we saw a man sunbathing.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “We got a little closer and Callie commented that the man looked strange; he was lying at an unusual angle. He was wedged up against a bench, and one arm was draped over him. It just didn’t look right. So someone, I think it was Bobby, went to get a pair of binoculars that he had below. He came up and handed them to me.”

  “And you trained it on the Doral?”

  “Yes. I saw the man on the deck. He was wearing a shirt and it was covered in something dark; I believed then and I believe now that it was blood. As I was handing the binoculars to Bobby to take a look, there was this huge explosion. I mean, the boat was there, and then it wasn’t. We felt a huge impact. I thought we were going to tip over.”

  “Is that when you called the Coast Guard?”

  “It is.”

  Once again I am handed a witness who cannot effectively be challenged because he is telling the truth and clearly has no ax to grind. So all I can do is ask a few mild questions and get out.

  “Mr. Kohler, you say you only saw one person?”

  “Correct.”

  “And you believed he was at least unconscious and also was covered in blood?”

  “That’s what it looked like to me. But I can’t be sure, of course.”

  “Were there any other boats in the area?”

  “Not directly there, but it was a beautiful day. There were boats in the distance.”

  “You could see them?”

  “Yes.”

  “About how far away was the closest one? I know it’s difficult to be precise; your best guess is what I’m looking for.”

  He thinks for a few moments. “Maybe two and a half nautical miles.”

  “How fast can a boat cover that distance?”

  He shrugs. “Depends on the boat.”

  “Say a boat like yours, just as an example.”

  “At full speed, maybe fifteen minutes.”

  “So it is conceivable that a boat you saw in the distance could have been adjacent to the Doral fifteen minutes earlier?”

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  “You would have no way of knowing if that happened either way, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And if someone from that boat in the distance had actually been aboard the Doral, twenty or thirty minutes earlier, you wouldn’t have any way of knowing that either, would you?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So you only have knowledge of what was on the deck of the Doral when you approached it. You couldn’t know what happened before then. Correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Thank you. No further questions.”

  Next on Trell’s hit parade is Arlene Blouch. She was at the pier the day that Vogel, Mellman, and Giarrusso set sail on their ill-fated trip.

  “Why were you at the pier that day?”

  “We were going out on our boat, my husband and I. Ours docks right next to where Alex’s … Mr. Vogel’s … was docked.”

  “Did you see him there often?”

  “Yes, almost every weekend in the spring and summer.”

  “Would you describe yourself as friends?”

  “Yes, I would. I mean we didn’t go out socially or anything, but we had spent some time on each other’s boats. I would say that my husband and I considered him a friend, yes.”

  “So you couldn’t mistake him for someone else, or someone else for him?” Trell asks.

  “Definitely not.”

  “Please describe what happened when you saw Alex Vogel that day.”

  “Well, we got there a little late; usually we go out before he does. But he was already there, and I saw him getting on his boat with two other men. I called and waved to him, but he didn’t respond. I can’t be sure that he heard me.”

  “Were they talking to each other?”

  “Yes, they were arguing, or at least that’s what it seemed like. I couldn’t make out most of what they were saying, and it wasn’t any of my business, but I clearly heard one of them say, ‘Come on, that’s a bunch of crap.’ He sounded angry.”

  Arlene Blouch has done two things for Trell. She’s placed Vogel on the boat that day with Mellman and Giarrusso. Trell considers that important, but I don’t, since we were not planning to contest it.

  Blouch has also introduced that the men were arguing. That is more damaging to us; it doesn’t quite create a motive, but it’s something the jury will certainly consider. That’s the main, but not the only, area for me to focus on in my cross-examination of her.

  “Ms. Blouch, was Alex Vogel carrying anything when he boarded the boat that day?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “Other than the fact that you heard what you thought was arguing, nothing seemed out of the ordinary? Everybody seemed to be boarding volun
tarily?”

  “Yes.”

  “No one was at gunpoint?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “The phrase ‘Come on, that’s a bunch of crap’ … who said that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Was it Alex Vogel?”

  “No, it was one of the other two men. Definitely not Alex’s voice.”

  “So there were three people, let’s call them A, B, and C. If Alex is A, could C have been yelling at B?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “So Alex might not have been involved in the conversation at all?”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  “When you heard this argument, were you worried?”

  “About what?”

  “Maybe that it might break into violence?”

  “No, it wasn’t that bad. I only mentioned it to the police because of what happened.”

  “So when you heard it, you didn’t consider calling the police at that point?”

  “Not even close.”

  “You said you considered Alex a friend.”

  “Yes.”

  “You found him pleasant, polite, enjoyable to be around?”

  “Yes. He was especially nice to my children. I appreciated that. And he often had his dog with him; he loves that dog.”

  “Any hint of violence, ever?”

  “None.”

  “Thank you.”

  Today starts the parade of witnesses that can seriously damage us.

  Until now Trell has been building the foundation with witnesses that could not be challenged because not only were they telling a simple truth, but we were fine with what they were saying.

  That’s about to change.

  The first witness up today is Sergeant Troy Willeford. He’s in charge of forensics for the division of the New Jersey State Police that covers Long Beach Island. He was on the scene of the explosion that day and supervised the forensics of the entire case.

  Once Trell establishes both Willeford’s credentials and that he was out on the ocean that day, Trell asks, “Were you able to recover any of the wreckage?”

  “Yes, nothing was intact, but there were certainly pieces floating around. We got there quickly, so were lucky to get what we got.”

  “Were you able to find anything significant?”