Reaching the street-level foyer, Karp stepped outside and up to the yellow cab that waited at the curb. One of the uniformed police officers assigned to the two patrol cars outside his residence was already talking to the driver.
“Evening, Mr. Karp,” the officer said. “This guy says you called for a cab?”
“That’s right, Eddie,” Karp replied. “I’m meeting someone. It’s for a case.”
“I’d be happy to drive you,” Officer Eddie said.
“That’s okay,” Karp replied. “I’m trying to do this low-key.”
“That’s why the Sam Spade look,” Officer Eddie said. “But Chief Fulton will have my butt in a sling if I let you go somewhere without an escort.”
“I’ll clear it with Clay,” Karp said, turning to the cab driver. “I’m sure Mr. …”
“Farouk,” the cab driver said helpfully.
“Mr. Farouk will deliver me to my meeting and return me safe and sound,” Karp said.
The officer looked doubtfully at the cab driver and then shrugged. “Well, as long as you clear it with the chief …”
“I promise,” Karp replied.
“And you take the cab back and forth … no walking around,” Officer Eddie insisted. He pointed a finger at the cab driver. “I have your name and cab number, no funny business.”
“Business is not funny,” Farouk replied with a frown.
“Now that that’s settled, I need to get going,” Karp said, and got into the back of the cab.
“Where to, sir?” the cabbie asked, looking in the rearview mirror.
“You know where the Bowery Mission is?” Karp asked.
“Yes, sir,” Farouk answered, then realized what Karp was asking. “But oh no, sir, you don’t want to go there. It’s a rough place.”
“And yet to the Bowery Mission I must go, my friend,” Karp replied. “Step on it.”
Fifteen minutes later, the cab pulled up to the front of a large dour brick building with a red neon sign that announced it as the home of the Bowery Mission. Looking out the window, Karp was not surprised to see the sidewalk in front of the mission crowded with small knots of unkempt, and in some cases dangerous-looking, homeless men and even a few women.
“Are you sure, sir?” Farouk asked. “If something was to happen to you, the police officer will make it very bad for me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Karp replied. “You’ve done a great job so far, and I’ll make sure your superiors hear about it. Now if you can wait twenty minutes or so, I’ll make it worth your while.”
Farouk handed him a business card. “Thank you, kind sir. Call me when you are ready and I will be here in a jiffy,” he said. “I do not like the look of these men and I would prefer to drive around the block until you call.”
Karp glanced out the window and noticed that some of the rougher looking men were eyeing the cab and moseying over for a closer look. Then he saw Dirty Warren Bennett and the Walking Booger emerge from the shadows of the alley next to the building and walk swiftly toward the cab.
“Aha,” Karp said with a grin, “my friends are here to meet me.” He opened the cab door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Seeing a well-dressed man exit the cab, some of the sidewalk denizens picked up the pace toward him, but then Booger swerved to intercept them. The huge man bellowed something incoherent, but in a loud and aggressive tone, and the others shied away and went back to their places in front of the building.
“Hello, Mr. Karp … son of a bitch crap whoop whoop … thanks for coming,” Dirty Warren Bennett said. “He’s waiting inside.”
Bennett then led the way back to the alley and a side entrance to the building. He knocked and another big man opened the door. “This is … oh boy oh boy nuts tits … him, Harvey.”
The man nodded and started to say something that sounded like a greeting, but a coughing fit took him. So he just stepped aside and pointed down a hallway.
Karp was led through a small maze of hallways and through a couple of storage rooms whose shelves were stacked with canned goods, bags of rice, and blankets. His guide led him to a door and there knocked again. A muffled reply came from within, at which Bennett opened the door. “Go ahead … whoop bastard … he wants to talk to you alone,” the little man said.
Walking into what appeared to be a reading room with shelves full of books and several overstuffed chairs with lamps next to them, Karp stopped short as David Grale rose from his seat. It had been some time since they’d last seen each other and Karp was shocked by how gaunt and ill the man looked; the pale skin that covered his face and hands-the only parts visible-looked stretched and fragile, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes like purple half moons.
“Hello, Mr. Karp,” Grale said, extending a hand, “thank you for coming.”
“Hi, David,” Karp replied, wondering why it was that once again he found himself in the presence of a sociopathic killer and yet felt completely safe. “Warren said you had something important you wanted to talk to me about regarding Nadya Malovo and the Halloween parade.”
A look of sadness passed across Grale’s face. “Yes, there’s no time for pleasantries, even if I wasn’t who and what I am,” he said after a moment. “I have some information I’d like to share and, if you’ll listen to what I have to say, a plan that I think may benefit us both.”
“I’m willing to listen,” Karp replied. “But if you’re going to admit to any crimes, David, I think you should seek counsel first.”
Grale looked surprised and then laughed. “You are the last of an honorable breed, Mr. Karp,” he said. “A serial killer asks to meet with you to discuss stopping another killer, and you offer to protect his rights.” The look of sorrow again crossed his face. “I truly appreciate who and what you are, Mr. Karp. Maybe someday you will have occasion to read me those rights; however, there is no need at this moment.”
Karp smiled. “Good. I’d rather not attempt to make a citizen’s arrest, not on your turf anyway.”
Grale laughed. “You never know, perhaps I’d go along docilely as a lamb,” he said. “Then again”-he gave Karp a funny look-“a little bird told me that Nadya Malovo is spreading a rumor that you are actually in league with the Sons of Man.”
Karp’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a new one,” he said. “This wouldn’t be the same little bird that left a note in my office telling me to speak to Warren at lunch today?”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Grale said. “But apparently that evil woman would like to sow dissension among friends-or is she correct and you’ve gone over to the dark side?”
“But what about what I’ve done to thwart the Sons of Man and prosecute its members when they break the law?” Karp asked.
“All part of a smoke screen to keep you above reproach,” Grale replied. “At least according to Malovo. But don’t worry; if I truly believed that, you would be dead already. I do think it provides us with an opportunity. She believes that she can divide us, which means while she knows there is a certain ‘connectivity,’ she is unaware of our long and varied history … as well as my great affection for you and your family.”
Karp nodded. “So what does this have to do with the Halloween parade?” he asked. “I will tell you that Lucy filled me in on your meeting and discussion in Central Park, and while I’m on that subject, I’m asking you to turn Andrew Kane over to us for prosecution.”
At the suggestion, Grale frowned, and for a moment Karp was taken aback by the sudden flash of insane anger he saw in the man’s eyes. “I’m not here to discuss Andrew Kane,” he snarled before controlling himself with great effort. “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to lose my cool, but that subject isn’t up for discussion. However, Malovo and her Halloween plotting is. … My little bird told me that after this she will have completed what the feds are asking of her and will then be placed in the witness protection program.”
It was Karp’s turn to frown. “You’re sure of this?” he asked.
“My information is top-notch,” Grale replied. “Obviously, that would not please you, or your friend Espey Jaxon, who I take it hopes to get more information about the Sons of Man from her before any such reward.”
“Go on,” Karp said.
“Well, I don’t believe that Nadya Malovo sees herself fitting into the witness protection program,” Grale said. “I’m not sure how she plans to pull it off, but I think her plot is much grander than that. And I think I have a way of foiling her, and at the same time giving you and me what we want.”
“I’m all ears,” Karp replied.
An hour later, Karp arrived outside of his loft. He tipped Farouk handsomely and got out of the taxi. He looked over the top of the cab at the officers in their patrol cars and waved.
Just as he turned, a dark shadow emerged from the alley next to the building and moved swiftly toward Karp. Something in the figure’s hand flashed.
“Look out!” Farouk shouted. “He’s got a knife!”
Karp turned and warded off the downward slash of the knife with his forearm. The blade tore through the arm of his trenchcoat. With his other hand, he punched his assailant in the face, knocking him back.
“Stop, police!” an officer shouted from across the street.
The hooded attacker looked over at the police cars and then ran back into the alley as two officers came to the rescue. One of them pursued the attacker into the dark while the other stopped to check on Karp.
“You okay?” the officer asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Karp replied, then held up the sleeve of his coat. “That was pretty close.”
The sound of a gunshot came from the alley. Karp and the other officer ran to the entrance and peered into the dark.
A moment later, Officer Eddie emerged from the shadows. “He got away,” he said. “The guy ran like he can see in the dark. I got a shot off but I don’t know if I hit him.”
The other officer spoke into the radio transmitter on his shoulder. “All nearby units respond to Crosby and Grand. Be on the lookout for a white male, dark hooded sweatshirt. Suspect is armed.”
“Did you get a good look at him?” Officer Eddie asked.
Karp nodded. “Yeah. I know him.”
“Great! What’s his name? We’ll have a dozen cars surrounding this place in two minutes.”
“His name is Grale. David Grale. There’s a few warrants out for him; he’s wanted for a half-dozen murders.”
The other officer pointed to Karp’s sliced coat. “And now attempted murder of the district attorney. Guy’s moving up in the world.”
29
Fulton arrived the next morning to drive him to the courthouse. “After your little incident with David Grale last night, the press is going to have the place surrounded like Fort Apache,” the detective said. “I talked to Murrow and his phone has been ringing off the hook.”
The detective held up a copy of the New York Post. HOLY GRALE SLASHES DA, the detective read. “Butch, the Post devoted four pages to Grale, his background, the Mole People, and all the killings he’s responsible for. They even quoted your cab driver.”
Karp smiled. “You mean the press cares if a mad killer tries to assassinate the district attorney?”
“So when you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“You drive, and I’ll fill you in.”
Five minutes later, Fulton knew the story but it didn’t make him happy. “It’s risky as hell,” he said. “You’re relying on a half-mad sociopath who has his own agenda.”
“Half-mad?” Karp replied with a smile as he got out of the car at the Hogan Place exit, ignoring the shouted questions of the media who were camped outside the security barrier. “I think you’re giving him some credit that may or may not be due. But I think in this case, his agenda meshes with ours. And it may be our best bet to avert a disaster.”
“I still don’t have to like it,” Fulton said.
“Neither do I, my friend, neither do I. But get a call in to Jaxon and see if he’ll meet at lunch.”
Karp was still thinking about Grale and his conversation with Fulton an hour later when Judge Temple asked him to call his next witness.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, rising. “The People call Monique LaRhonda Hale.”
A minute later, Fulton escorted the woman into the courtroom. She saw LaFontaine and his lawyer staring at her and immediately burst into tears.
Karp’s heart went out to her as she approached her seat in the witness box like a condemned prisoner going to her execution. But he needed her; he had fought tooth and nail to have her testimony admitted under the “prior bad acts” doctrine to show that what had happened to Micah Ellis and his parents was part of a pattern of criminal behavior engaged in by the defendant-a sinister scheme to defraud vulnerable moms and dads in search of a “miracle” to save their ailing child.
Now he had to take the frightened, weeping woman, who’d lost her child and her husband, through the painful memories that began when her daughter, Natalie, got sick and went to the Children’s Hospital to be treated. And that led to the day LaFontaine had shown up at her doorstep shortly after Natalie’s final chemotherapy session had ended.
“He seemed to know everything about us,” Hale testified. “He even knew that my husband had some run-ins with the law, but he said he knew that Charlie had turned his life around and that if we had total faith in the Lord, Natalie could be cured. But we had to stop taking her to the hospital.”
“Why not just continue the medical treatments?” Karp asked.
“She was just so sick, and the doctor said he couldn’t guarantee that she would get well,” Hale replied. “But John-Reverend LaFontaine-was so sure of himself. He said that God would work through him to cure her if we proved we believed in Him.”
“Did Natalie seem to get better?”
“Yes, we prayed a lot and it seemed to work.”
“Did the defendant ever bring anyone else over to your house to help with these prayers?”
“Yes. Sometimes Nonie Ellis was with him, and sometimes Sister Sarah. They both had little boys who were also being healed through prayer.”
“Did Sister Sarah have a last name?”
“I’m sure she did, but I didn’t know it.”
Karp showed her a mug shot of Sarah Westerberg and asked, “Do you recognize the individual depicted in this photo, People’s Exhibit Thirty for identification?”
“Yes, that’s her, that’s Sister Sarah.”
He then showed her a photograph of Nonie Ellis.
“That’s Nonie.”
“Did you ever meet their little boys?”
“I met Micah,” Hale responded. “She brought him over a couple of times to play with Natalie. He was such a nice little boy, and Nonie was a dear.”
“How about Sarah’s child? Did you meet him?”
Hale shook her head. “I think his name was Kevin. But no, she never brought him over.”
“Mrs. Hale, at some point did your relationship with the defendant become more than just that of a spiritual adviser and one of his followers?”
Hale, who had been doing better since the questioning started, bit her lip and started to cry again. “Yes, one day when my husband, Charlie, was out, he came over and said that he had fallen in love with me. That Jesus had appeared to him in a dream and said that God blessed our love. He said that our union in Christ would prove how committed I was and that it would help Natalie.”
“So you became lovers?”
“Yes.”
“And at some point did your lover, the defendant, come to you with a proposal regarding life insurance for Natalie?”
“Yes. He asked if Brother Frank, one of the men in his church, could talk to me about life insurance.”
“Were Brother Frank and LaFontaine close?”
“Oh yes, Brother Frank came with him to the house several times. They seemed like good friends.”
“And did Brother Frank talk to you about lif
e insurance?”
“Yes. He said that someday a policy would be worth a lot of money and we could use it for Natalie’s college education or her-” At that point Hale broke down again and needed a few moments to recover before going on. “Or for her wedding.”
“But it was a life insurance policy that would pay in the event of Natalie’s death?”
Hale shook her head. “Yes. He said that as long as we kept the faith we didn’t have to worry about that. But he said that if something did happen to her-he made it seem like Charlie couldn’t be trusted-at least some good could come of it by helping LaFontaine’s ministry.”
“So the death benefits were assigned to LaFontaine and his church?”
“Yes.”
“Did your husband go along with the plan?”
“No. He was suspicious of LaFontaine … I think he knew that there was something going on between us. But anyway, he wouldn’t sign it.”
“So how did you get the policy?”
“John talked me into letting Frank pretend to be Charlie and Frank signed it.”
“Did an insurance salesman ever come to your house and ask for the family’s medical history?”
“Yes. But John said that I shouldn’t tell him about Natalie. He said that it would be the same as saying that the doctors had cured Natalie, and that would be an affront to God.”
“To your knowledge did the insurance agent learn about Natalie’s condition?”
“I guess not,” she replied. “Because they gave me the policy.”
Karp had walked over to the witness stand and poured her a cup of water from the pitcher next to the witness box. He handed it to her.
Then, standing in close proximity to the jury rail, the judge’s dais, and the witness box, Karp said, “Mrs. Hale, I know this has to be very hard on you; your daughter, Natalie, passed away.”
“Yes. My little girl died.”
“And the life insurance company paid the death benefits?”
“Yes.”
“Which were signed over to the defendant, John LaFontaine, and his church?”
“Yes.”
As the woman cried quietly, Karp gently asked, “Mrs. Hale, did there come a time when your intimate relationship with the defendant ended?”
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