Scott stood up. “I appreciate your stopping by, John. I surely hope something turns up soon on this case. I’m not really expecting to find John Harrison involved—but I’m glad you think it’s worth a shot. Maybe it will just clear him. I’m sure you understand how confidential this must be. His dad’s kicking off his new senatorial campaign and has a lot of political support in and around Savannah. It would appear that the DA just has it in for Harrison if nothing turns up. I want to make sure we avoid any political fallout.”
Majewski stood. “I understand completely. I’ll contact you if anything comes up that connects Harrison. And you can rest assured that this will be confidential. I’m going to work it myself.”
****
Scott had one stop to make on his way home—the Library. He had a small, carefully wrapped package under his arm when he walked in. Juri spotted him as he came through the door and playfully reared back and made a simulated knuckle-ball pitch directly at Scott. Scott ducked and grinned, then took a seat across from Juri. He was the only customer at the bar.
“Did you hear about the trade the Braves made today?” Juri asked, as he placed both hands on the bar and leaned toward Scott.
“No, that’s news to me, Juri. Who’s been traded?”
“The shortstop, Renteria, to the Tigers. Got an outfielder and a pitcher.”
“I’m sorry to see Renteria go. He was batting over .300, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, .332. But Escobar can replace him, and he’s just as good—and we needed a good pitcher. That’s our biggest need, don’t you think?”
Scott wasn’t in the mood to talk baseball just then; he was there for a specific purpose, and he wanted to complete that first.
“Yes, agree. But Juri, I came here for some help.”
Juri could read the seriousness in Scott’s voice. “Sure, Scott. Anything. What do you need?”
Scott handed the package across the bar to Juri. “I need you to deliver this package. It’s something someone left over at my place, and I want to return it. And this has to be confidential. It has to do with one of my cases, but I can’t tell you more. I can’t discuss it with anyone, and I have to trust you not to either.”
“You know you can trust me, Scott. And I don’t want to know. I talk too much.” Juri smiled. Then he looked at the package.
“You just want me to deliver it to this address? Confidentially?”
“Right.”
“Consider it done. And strictly confidential.”
“Thanks, Juri.”
Scott ordered a draft beer, and he and Juri talked baseball for almost a half an hour, until the bar filled with other customers. When Scott left, he was confident the pistol he found in the bushes would soon be back in the hands of the man who tossed it there.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
November 13, 2007
It had been two weeks since Scott’s discussion with Detective Majewski about the possible involvement of John Harrison. And despite a heavy load of cases that put him in a courtroom almost daily, the Toussaint’s case was never far from Scott’s mind. He was at his desk late Tuesday afternoon, preparing for a three-day jury trial to start the following morning, when his phone rang. Majewski was on the other end.
“Scott, do you like being wrong sometimes?”
“Not really. What do you have in mind?”
“Those voice transcripts from a Harrison acquittal. I found one.”
“Well, in that case, yes, I’m glad to be wrong. Where did you find it?”
“North Florida. A small rural county that saves all trial tapes, including acquittals, for three years. Of course, the clerk of court required that I get permission from the chief judge. I drove down there this morning and met with him. He happened to be the judge for the case there and had followed the Savannah case when it was tried and retried here. I explained what we were going to do with the tapes and told him that we have papers showing Harrison purchased a Glock 26 just six days after his acquittal.”
“He purchased a Glock? John, you said you would call me with that kind of info.”
“I just got it myself yesterday afternoon—a copy of Form 4473—and since I expected to pick up those tapes today, I thought it could wait until I got back.”
“Well, did you get the tapes?”
“Yep, and the device they were recorded on—a Sony four-channel cassette recorder. Also five blank tapes from the same carton as the recorded tape. The judge seemed more than pleased to let us have them. He said that Harrison made a good witness, claimed an alibi, and pulled it off with the jury. It was only a two day trial, but the jury deliberated for almost ten hours. So, now I’ve got the tapes and the recorder, and I’ll start gathering my Ivy League voices this week.”
“Need some help with that?”
“No, I don’t think so. I have a plan. I’ll let you know how it goes and call you when I’m ready to record. You said you wanted to be there?”
“Right. If we do get a voice ID from any of our four witnesses, I’m not at all sure we’ll be able to get it into evidence—assuming we ever get to trial. But I know we’ll have no chance if we screw any of it up. I want to make sure we don’t do anything that could be objected to as ‘suggestive.’ Call me when you round up those voices. And have someone transcribe Harrison’s testimony. If there are any words in the testimony that are the same as those used by the Toussaint’s robber, we want to include them in script.”
After Scott hung up with the detective, he walked down the hallway to see if Moose was in. He had not briefed Moose on his hunch and had not planned to unless something positive turned up. Scott thought that time was now.
Moose sat behind his desk. Over by a window, Jessica was seated at a small table with her laptop. Moose invited Scott to take a seat.
“We have a lead in the Toussaint’s murder case,” Scott said. “It’s very tentative, but at least it’s something Majewski is pursuing.” Jessica turned to listen.
Scott explained why he believed the hunch was worth pursuing and brought Moose up to date on what Majewski had learned about Harrison’s gun purchase. He also explained their plan to get a voice ID and how they were planning to produce the other voice samples.
“One delicate problem, of course, is maintaining confidentiality,” said Scott. “We don’t want anyone knowing we’re focusing on John Harrison. Majewski is very aware of that. He’ll be working with the five or six Ivy Leaguers—the guys giving voice samples, but he can’t tell them why they were asked to do it. That will be tricky, but he’s smart—he can handle it. And I’ll be present during the recording and during the voice ID lineup.”
“Well, it looks like you’re proceeding as you should,” said Moose. “Glad you see the need of keeping it confidential. If it got out and you hit a dead end, it could prove embarrassing for the DA—and that ain’t never fun. Keep me posted.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
November 20, 2007
Scott answered the phone, and it was Majewski. Scott had not spoken to him in a week. “Scott, I have my guys for the voice ID. If you have some time now, I’d like to stop by.”
“Sure. I’ll be here until about six.”
Scott was surprised that the detective had found the necessary voices so soon. Just how he did it was one of the first questions Scott asked when Majewski arrived.
“It was easy. I called the Ivy League placement directors—Harvard, Princeton, Dartmouth, Yale, and the rest of them. I told them we had a very important but confidential law enforcement job available for a Georgia native with an Ivy League degree. We didn’t discuss salary—I just asked for names, addresses, and phone numbers. I wasn’t fudging facts when I said it was an important and confidential law enforcement job, was I, Scott?” Majewski gave Scott an impish grin.
“You? Straight-shooter John Majewski? Never. Your pitch was all true, but now I know you have the mind of a huckster. How was the response?”
“Better than expected. Much better. Of course, s
ome schools didn’t respond at all, but I got sixteen names from the others. Two right here in Savannah. I started calling over the weekend and gave them the same spiel, but I added the salary—nothing. No pay, but an extremely important and confidential law enforcement assignment that would take only a little of their time. Seven out of the first ten I called agreed to help. Of course, this week is Thanksgiving, and to accommodate a few from out of town, I set it up for Tuesday of next week starting at six. How does that work for you?”
“No problem. Did you get Harrison’s testimony from the Florida trial transcribed?”
Majewski removed a file from his briefcase. “Right here.”
Scott took the transcript and began to read. Then he stopped and looked up at Majewski. “This may take a while. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, I’ll walk down and see if Bill Anderson is in. I’m a witness in a case he has next week.”
When Majewski returned, Scott had finished the transcript. “I’ve circled a part that should be usable. Only a few words in it that the robber actually said—‘in,’ ‘and,’ ‘all,’ ‘place,’ and ‘bills’—but I didn’t find a better passage. Scott read aloud:
“I worked Sunday night until we closed. I spent the whole morning at my place, washing some clothes, paying some bills, and just taking it easy. It was raining all day; not beach weather, so I took in a movie—Oceans Twelve. It was my day off. I usually take in a movie or hit the beach when I have a chance. I recall the day well, because of the torrential rain storm. As I was driving back to my place after the movie, I couldn’t see ahead of me and had to pull over and stop. The rain continued the rest of the day, so I stayed at my place until the following day when I went to work.”
Scott looked up from the paper. “We’ll have them read the entire passage, but cut each voice off at the same place in the last sentence. That includes Harrison’s voice on the cassette from his trial. In one case I read, the defense moved to exclude the voice ID because the defendant’s voice was the only one that was cut off. We’ll at least avoid that. But I’m sure there’ll be other objections we haven’t planned for. Having those blank cassette tapes from the same box will avoid one sure objection. Now, what’s left?”
“I need to arrange for our four witnesses to listen to the tapes. How about Wednesday afternoon next week?”
Scott checked his calendar. “That’s good. Your office?”
“Not in my office but just down the hall. Same place we’ll do the recordings next Tuesday.” Majewski got up to leave. “Scott, I hope this pays off—we really have hit the wall with this case. Nothing is coming in, and forensics hasn’t come up with anything new. Nothing.”
“We can just hope, John. See you Tuesday.” Scott was alone for just a few minutes when his phone rang. It was Bill Baldwin.
“Hi, Scott, just checking in.”
“Meaning what, Bill? Looking for news or spreading news?”
“Little bit of both. Let’s start with your news. So, what’s new?”
“Bill, you are one persistent and annoying devil. I suppose that’s a necessary character trait for reporters. So, let me tell you again, very slowly: you will be the first to know when there’s something I can tell you.”
“So, nothing new, you’re saying?”
“No, I’m not saying that, but there’s nothing new I can tell you.”
“Then let me tell you what I know. You’ve opened an investigation on the possibility of John Harrison being involved in the Toussaint’s murder. And you discovered he purchased a pistol a few days after his acquittal—you just can’t give me further details?”
“What? An investigation of John Harrison for murder … a pistol …?” Scott was at first astounded and then speechless. There was dead silence as Scott searched for a response. “Where on God’s earth did you hear that, Bill?”
“You know I can’t reveal sources.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Usually both, but in this case I think you should know—but I want you to agree to confirm or deny what the source told me.”
“On or off the record?”
“Off the record. I promise. You know I wouldn’t do anything to compromise your investigation.”
Scott considered the proposition. Bill had been a reliable confidant. And it appeared that Scott had more to gain than lose on this one. Who could have leaked this very confidential information? He had to know.
“OK, I agree.”
“Be careful how you react to this. My source was sort of tricked out of this information by my Fabian tactics. All reporters can be subtle and wily, and some of us are outright masters of subterfuge. But this one was a bit too easy.”
“OK, you cagey bastard, tell me about it. Who was it?”
“Moose’s new squeeze, Jessica. I saw her over at our apartment complex last weekend, out by the pool. She’s over every weekend now. She was sunning herself on a chaise lounge. I pulled up a chair and began a conversation. ‘How’s it going, how’s school, how do you like it at the DA’s office’—you know just shooting the breeze. I knew she was working with Moose and would probably be privy to all that was going on, so I just pumped her a little. I knew about the investigation into the perjury case and just threw out a statement—something like, ‘I know you finally got the goods on John Harrison. Do you think it’s enough?’ She said, ‘You mean the gun he bought? They’re still working that.’”
“Damn it!” Scott yelled into the phone.
“Hold on Scott.” Bill’s voice was calm. “I was just as surprised as you are. I told her she must not discuss that with anyone, including friends and especially news reporters—that it could compromise a murder investigation. She seemed stricken. I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I actually apologized for bringing it up. That’s the tall and short of it. And as far as it goes. You can trust me on that.”
“Thanks, Bill.” Scott exhaled into the phone. “I owe you one now, big time, and I won’t forget. But I’m not at liberty to discuss this with you. As promised, though, I can confirm what you heard.”
“Well, my lips are sealed and my pen is dry. Don’t worry about it. And don’t tell Moose about this. That girl is his life now—the first love he’s had since he got here. He would be really disappointed in her, and what good would it do? She’s invited him to go home with her for the Christmas holidays. He’s really looking forward to it. I’ve never seen him happier.”
“I’m just interested in her keeping her mouth shut about office business.”
“I think I took care of that. She understood, no question about that.”
“OK, I’ll drop it. Anything else you have to upset me?”
“No, not to upset you, but maybe there’s something else you should know about John Harrison.”
“Tell me.”
“Did you see the little celebration outside the courthouse by the defense team after the acquittal?”
“I saw it on TV—I think I recall throwing up.”
“Do you recall a young woman running over and giving John Harrison a kiss on the cheek?”
“I do. Gorgeous. Thought it might be a sister or an old girlfriend.”
“Nope. New girlfriend—while he was in prison. She attended the first trial—guilty or innocent, she didn’t care. She apparently just thought of him as a hunk. I guess she wrote him in prison, sent a picture, and he responded.”
“No problem understanding that.”
“They became pen pals, and she visited him every week—attended every day of his recent trial.”
“Yeah, I recall seeing her up front.”
“Her name is Alexia Dimitris. Her family has its own shipping line as well as the largest container storage facility on the east coast—which is right here in Savannah. One of the really ‘big bucks’ families of Savannah. But here’s what I think you should know about Alexia Dimitris: she has her own place on Tybee Beach, a very private beach house—and she has a house guest.”
“Let me gues
s.”
“He’s been living there since his release in September.”
“How do you come by all this information—what’s your secret?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?”
“Bill, you’re a smart guy. Explain to me why a beautiful rich girl, who never knew this guy before he went to prison on a ten-year sentence, wants to be his girlfriend. I don’t get it.”
“Nothing new there. Happens all the time. John Wayne Gacy and Ted Bundy had a number of pen pal girlfriends while on death row. And the Menendez brothers—remember them? In prison for murdering their parents. Both married pen pals while serving life sentences. In fact, Lyle Menendes divorced his first pen pal bride and then married another one. I don’t get it either.”
“Amazing. When are you going to invite me again to Churchill’s for a beer?”
“Just as soon as you earn it—give me some information I need and don’t have.”
“Well then, I’ll see what I can find, Bill. But no promises.”
Scott hung up and immediately dialed Detective Majewski with the news of Harrison’s “landlady.”
“Hold on a minute, Scott, let me check something.” In a few moments, the detective was back on the phone. “Yep, that’s consistent with what Harrison listed as his address on the Form 4473 when he purchased his pistol. We need to confirm that he’s living there. I’ll put surveillance on it and let you know what we find.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
November 28, 2007
All four robbery witnesses arrived for the voice ID lineup around 2:00 p.m. Wednesday. Donaway came with his attorney, Samarkos, and Mildred Thompson was accompanied by a young aide, Belinda Eddy. Mildred was unmarried and lived alone before the robbery, but now Eddy lived with her to help with meals and drive her to medical appointments and rehabilitation sessions. Daniel Voss and his wife were the last to arrive and sat quietly in the hallway. Scott walked by the two twice, and as soon as eye contact was made, Daniel quickly lowered his gaze. Neither Scott nor Daniel exchanged greetings. The silent encounter was awkward. Scott realized that they would need to have a face-to-face discussion for trial preparation—just not now.
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