Unleashed

by David Rosenfelt

  “People die in plane crashes, fortunately not very often, but it happens. Barry Price was an experienced pilot, so he knew the risks as well as anyone. He knew that every time he went up, there was that danger, no matter how much care is taken.”

  Bader shakes his head sadly, as if he is reflecting thoughtfully on events, as if he hasn’t rehearsed these words at least a dozen times. “But there was a danger he had not anticipated, one that had nothing to do with weather, or mechanical failure, or even pilot error. Because although Mr. Price’s body was thrown seventy-five feet from the plane upon the terrible impact, the seeds of his death were planted well before that, in what he thought was the safety and comfort of his own home.

  “The evidence will show that Barry Price was poisoned, and that is what caused his death. It was a poison that paralyzes before it kills, and there is every likelihood that he was alive, mentally alert, as he was forced to watch in terror as he lost control of his airplane.

  “Yes, the airplane was a bit player in this tragedy. Barry Price died on a plane, but he would just as certainly have died in a car, or in a restaurant, or on a hammock, or maybe even in a hospital. The poison is that deadly.

  “And that is why you are here, making the momentous decision you are going to make, rather than the National Transportation Safety Board. You are going to have to follow the evidence and decide who secretly administered the poison to Barry Price.

  “And fortunately, the evidence is clear.” Bader points to Denise. “This woman had the motive, the opportunity, and the means to have killed her husband. It was not the first time she had betrayed him, but it would be the last.

  “The evidence will show, quite clearly, that Denise Price acquired the deadly toxin, slipped it into her husband’s food or drink, and then coldly waited for him to die.

  “It all made sense to her. It would give her freedom and huge sums of money with which to enjoy that freedom. And with his body burned beyond recognition in the crash, how would anyone ever know?

  “Well, we do know, because things didn’t quite work out as Denise Price had hoped. Her husband’s body didn’t burn in the crash. It was thrown from that crash and landed intact.

  “And that simple fact enabled Barry Price, in death, to identify his murderer.” He points at Denise again. “His wife, Denise Price.

  “Thank you.”

  I have the option of delaying my opening statement until the beginning of the defense case, but it’s an option I’ve never taken. By then the conviction boat could have sailed, and it’s important that the jurors know now that there is another side to this story, one we will vigorously present.

  It’s also a good thing for Denise to hear someone advocate for her. She’s just heard herself called a cold-blooded murderer by the State of New Jersey, which can have something of a chilling effect on one’s mood.

  I don’t want her disconsolate; I want her determined. That’s for her sake but also, and more important, for the jurors, who can sense the difference.

  “There are fifty-one people who could have murdered Barry Price,” is how I begin, referring to those at the Price’s party the night before his death. “And I’m only counting the ones who could have done it relatively easily. There are many others who could have done it as well, but it would have required a little more effort.

  “The good news is that you don’t have to figure out which of the fifty-one people committed this awful act. All you are being called on to do is conclude whether or not the prosecution has proved Denise Price guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

  “Now it is important for you to understand one thing going in: there is absolutely no direct evidence tying Denise Price to this crime. They’ll tell you that she could have done it, they’ll come up with reasons why they think she wanted to do it, and that’s it. What they will present to you is not on the same planet as ‘beyond a reasonable doubt.’”

  I would love to be able to tell the jury about Donald Susser and the three murders in Augusta. But at this moment I have no hard evidence to connect them to Barry Price, none at all, and Judge Hurdle would cut me off and admonish me in front of the jury. I can’t afford to have the jury’s first impression of our side be that we are trying to get away with something.

  I don’t point to Denise, as Bader did. Instead I walk over and place a hand on her shoulder. “Denise Price is a victim here. She has lost her husband, a man she loved for seventeen years, her high school sweetheart, her friend. You can’t give back what she lost, but you can make sure that she doesn’t lose any more.

  “Look at the evidence and then do what is right. Give Denise Price her life back.”

  Denise looks somewhat relieved when I finish, and when I get back to the defense table she whispers a thank-you. She’s had a rough time of it, but I will remind her that this is only the beginning. By the time Bader is finished presenting his case, she will look back on today with a nostalgic fondness.

  Today will become one of the “good old days.”

  “He was my boss, my mentor, and most important, my friend.”

  That is how Mark Clemens responds when asked to describe his relationship with Barry Price. It is the first of many rehearsed lines that we will be hearing in Bader’s direct examination of Clemens.

  “What is the name of the company you work for?”

  “The Price Group,” Clemens says.

  “Named for Barry Price? Bader asks. “He ran the firm?”

  “He was the firm; he still is. We’re following the strategies and guidelines he set.”

  “And your role there?”

  “Executive vice president.”

  “So that is the number-two person in the firm?”

  “Yes. But Barry was number one, and then there was everyone else.”

  Watching Clemens pretending to show humility is like sticking my finger down my throat. But you learn the first day in law school that throwing up on the defense table is bad form, so I’m going to have to gag in silence.

  Bader takes Clemens through the ownership of the firm. Clemens owns ten percent, three other executives own five percent each, and Price owned seventy-five percent. He willingly gives out the information that Denise Price would inherit Barry’s ownership position.

  Bader asks him some more questions about the business relationship and then moves to the personal. “How well do you know Denise Price?”

  “I guess not as well as I thought,” he says, and though Hurdle sustains my objection, the damage is done. He goes on to say that he always “liked” Denise, and the past tense conveys his meaning.

  Bader asks how Clemens viewed the Prices’ marriage.

  “I didn’t know them for the first seven years, and Barry told me that there was a time when it was wonderful, when they were very happy. Unfortunately, that didn’t last.”

  He goes on to describe a loveless marriage, claiming that it was Barry’s point of view. He says that Barry believed Denise was having an affair but could never prove it. “He was planning to leave her,” Clemens says.

  “When did he tell you that?”

  “Three weeks before his death.”

  Bader then takes him to the party that Barry and Denise threw the night before his death and asks him about the argument they had.

  “I was embarrassed for Barry,” Clemens says. “But Denise was giving him a hard time, and I guess he couldn’t just stand there and take it anymore. So he yelled at her, and that seemed to quiet her down. She had a lot to drink.”

  Bader spends some more time letting Clemens recount the horror that was Denise Price, and then he turns him over to me for cross-examination.

  “Mr. Clemens, would you say that Barry Price felt his marriage had reached a point of no return?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long had he felt that?”

  “For a long time, at least a year or a year and a half. It had been deteriorating for much longer than that. But Barry wasn’t a quitter; he kept trying to make it work.” />
  “Until three weeks before, when he told you he was leaving? Or maybe longer?”

  “It was three weeks.”

  “Is it possible he decided more than three weeks before but waited to tell you? Or did he tell you every personal thing the moment it entered his mind?”

  I can see a flash of annoyance in Clemens’s eyes, which is what I’m hoping for. “We were close, but I suppose it’s possible it was longer than three weeks.”

  “So at least three weeks before his death, or maybe longer, he had decided to leave the marriage. Why do you think he didn’t then do so right away?”

  “There are plans one has to make,” Clemens says.

  “What kind of plans? There were no children to tell, were there?”

  He shakes his head. “No.”

  “Did he need a place to stay, or did he have an apartment in New York City?”

  “He did have an apartment. But there are financial arrangements to be made in a situation like that.”

  “Like protecting assets?”

  “Yes.”

  “What moves did he make to do so in those three weeks?”

  He hesitates, trying to decide how to put it. “I don’t know.”

  “He never discussed it with you, his business partner and close friend? He told you intimate details about his personal life but not about his finances? As close as you were?”

  “I’m not aware of any financial moves he made.”

  I drop that and take him back to the night of the party and again ask him about the argument that Barry and Denise had. “They were angry at each other? They raised their voices?”

  “Yes.”

  I submit as evidence an article about Barry Price that ran in Barron’s two years ago. It was basically a favorable piece, but it also described Barry as being known for his no-holds-barred business style, which resulted in his having a number of enemies in the industry.

  “According to this article,” I say, “Barry Price had a quick temper, which resulted in many loud arguments.”

  “It was his style,” Clemens says. “But Barry would give anyone the shirt off his back.”

  “But it’s fair to say he had business enemies, people who disliked or resented him?”

  “Everyone does.”

  “Some of these people he raised his voice to, and they raised their voices in return?”

  “Yes, on occasion.”

  “To your knowledge, have any of them been charged with his murder?”

  Bader objects and Hurdle sustains. My style is to jump around a lot; I found it throws adversarial witnesses off balance.

  “Do you know where Barry Price was flying to the night he died?”

  “Augusta, Maine.”

  “He told you that?”

  “No, Mr. Bader mentioned it.”

  I smile. “Did Mr. Bader discuss a lot of the evidence with you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know why Barry Price was flying to Maine?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “He never told you that either?”

  “No.”

  I drop that, though it will help me later in the trial. I then introduce as evidence a floor plan of the Price house and ask where the argument took place. He points to the living room area.

  “So you were there at the time, right? You spent most of your time that night in that room?”

  He nods. “Yes.”

  “Is that where the buffet was as well?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the music?”

  “Yes?”

  “So that was the center of the party, where most of the people stayed?”

  “Yes.”

  I point to the diagram. “So there was no way you could see this door, the one to the basement, correct?” In the basement is where they found traces of the poison in the sink.

  He knows where I’m going, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. “Not from where I was, no.”

  “So any of the fifty-one people at the party could have gone into that basement, and neither you nor anyone else in that room would know it, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Clemens, you’ve been very helpful.”

  “Imachu. It’s a Turkish company, banking out of Belize,” Sam says.

  I have absolutely no idea why a Turkish company would be banking in Belize, unless maybe they waive their ATM fees there. But Sam seems really excited about what he’s found, so I’m not going to interrupt him.

  “They have eight hundred and thirty million dollars in Barry’s company, which makes them the second biggest investor.”

  “What does the company do?” I ask.

  “I haven’t a clue. There’s no evidence that they do anything other than invest money. But it could be that I’m just not finding it; maybe they have subsidiaries that make widgets.”

  “What did you find out about them?”

  Sam smiles, preparing to relish his triumph. “Well, I was over in the bunker last night, the team had gone home, and…”

  “You go to the bunker even when the group is not there?”

  “Sure, we have a whole computer setup there. Anyway, I was sitting at the computer and talking to Crash—”

  “You bring Crash to the Holiday Inn?”

  “Of course. The desk clerk loves him.”

  “Sam…”

  “Anyway, I said to Crash, ‘This company takes in a lot of money from their investments. Barry alone has gotten them almost twelve percent this year.’”

  “Did Crash think that was high?”

  “I don’t know, but it got me to thinking. Where is that money going? So I found out.” He pauses for effect. “One of the places their money went was to a bank account in the Caymans, but it didn’t stay there for long.”

  This is potentially such interesting news that I’m not even going to make another snide Crash crack, although I have a good one ready. “Keep talking,” I say.

  “They sent out a bunch of wires from their Cayman account.” Another smile. “And one of them went to none other than Donald Susser, who then divvied it up among his friends.”

  “This is terrific, Sam. Great work.”

  “You might want to hold the praise until I get to the good part. Another wire went to a guy named Alex Larsen, in Concord, New Hampshire.”

  “The name is familiar,” I say. “Who is he?”

  “Who was he,” Sam corrects. “He was one of four people gunned down in a garage a while back. An undercover cop was one of the people killed.”

  “I remember reading about it. So Barry invests money for this company, they send some of it to people in New England, who then wind up dead.”

  “They sent other wires out as well, one of them went to a guy in Columbus, Ohio, but I haven’t tracked them all down yet,” Sam says. “I figured you’d want to know about this right away.”

  “Thanks, Sam, you did the right thing. Now take Crash, and the two of you find out where the other wires went.”

  “Will do. I’m just going to stop at the prison first, if that’s okay.”

  “What for?”

  “I’ve been visiting Denise on and off. She feels really alone.”

  I’m not sure I think Sam is in a good place on this. From what I know about our case, he’s not likely to be taking Denise to the prom any time soon. “Okay, but … be careful with this.”

  “It’s under control.”

  When Sam leaves, I head home to discuss this development with Laurie. I’m in the middle of a trial, so there is no time to lose in finding out how all this fits into the puzzle that is Barry Price’s death.

  “Contacting the Concord police won’t get you much,” Laurie says, and as a former police chief she is in a good position to make that assessment. “They’re not going to tell you details of their investigation, and I doubt very much that they know anything that ties it to Susser and Augusta.”

  “I could ask Pete to do it for me.”

&nb
sp; She nods, or maybe it’s a shrug. “And he’d probably do it.”

  “But it would be too little, too late,” I say. “Local Concord cops probably have no idea of the big picture.”

  Her nod is more vigorous this time. “Andy, this is federal. At the very least it’s a conspiracy to murder across state lines. There is no way to know how far this goes, but what we know by itself is enough. I think your first call should be to Cindy.”

  This is unprecedented. Cindy Spodek is a friend of Laurie’s and mine who also happens to be the second in command at the FBI’s Boston office. I call upon her for help far more than I should, and way more than Laurie thinks I should. If Laurie is making the suggestion, she must think it’s very important to take this route.

  I call her office, and Cindy gets on the phone. “Let me venture a wild guess, Andy. You have a client, and you need my help.”

  “How wrong you are,” I say. “Laurie and I are coming to Boston, and we’re hoping to take you and Tom to dinner.”

  “Thank you. I’ll bring Robert.”

  “The more the merrier.”

  “My husband’s name is Robert, not Tom.”

  Cindy got married a few years back, but I was in trial and we didn’t go to the wedding. I’ve actually never met Robert, or whatever the hell his name is.

  “That Robert is one lucky man, and Tom really missed the boat.”

  “When are you coming to Boston?”

  “Not sure yet,” I say. “At some point.”

  “Great, I think we’re free then. I’ll make a reservation. Seafood okay?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “What do you want, Andy?”

  “Hold on,” I say and hand the phone to Laurie. “This isn’t going well.”

  Laurie gets on, and after a few minutes of chitchat tells Cindy that she suggested I call, that the subject matter is very important. Cindy knows that Laurie, unlike me, would never bullshit her, so when I get back on the phone her attitude has changed.