“I watched at it in the car after I left your place. Then we swung back by the gallery to see if you were still there but I saw the place was locked up. I guess I made it to your apartment building sooner than you did. One of the perks of having a light bar on your car, I guess. So can we go up to your condo? We have a lot to talk about.”
“Sure,” Brian said, noticing the obvious change in the cop’s attitude toward him. “So we’re both on the same page, can I presume from your being here that you know the person who showed up on the video?”
“Yes, I do. Let’s go inside.” He took Brian’s arm lightly, and Brian pulled back.
“What are you doing?”
“It might be better for you, sir, if we talk inside. I don’t think you want me to have to read you your rights here in front of your doorman and maybe your neighbors. You’re the man in the video, Mr. Sadler. You’re the man who assaulted Collette Conning this afternoon.”
Chapter Thirteen
Brian was stunned. He looked blankly at the detective and said, “This is crazy. You called the Oak Bar and verified I was there – right? You saw my credit card receipt. I was there when she was attacked. What the hell’s going on?”
“Mr. Sadler,” the detective said quietly, steering Brian by the arm toward the building entrance as the doorman held the door open while averting his eyes. “Let’s not talk any more until I’ve read you your rights. I’m going to play this one strictly by the books.”
The uniformed officer joined them at the elevator. No one spoke as the elevator climbed thirty-five floors to Brian’s apartment overlooking Central Park. “Nice,” the officer murmured as Brian opened the door.
“Can I look at the surveillance video?” Brian asked.
“I think that would be a good idea. Just give me a sec.” He pulled a card from his pocket and read the Miranda rights to Brian who listened in silence, acknowledged he understood them and waived his right to an attorney at this time.
Sitting at his desk, Brian refreshed his laptop and clicked on the mail from the monitoring company. “I think we can get this worked out fast,” he said. “It wasn’t me, so we just have to figure out why you thought it was and who it actually is.”
The detective stood behind Brian as he clicked on the video attachment to the email and opened it. The video started at one pm but Brian fast-forwarded it to six at the detective’s direction. He watched as foot traffic moved along in front of Bijan Rarities’ front door, then he saw a man walk to the entrance. Details of his face were not visible under his black umbrella but he was wearing a trenchcoat.
As the man got to the door it opened, blocking his face from view. Collette had obviously released the lock and allowed the person into the gallery. At that point a second camera mounted on a pedestal ten feet from the door picked up his face. Brian looked at the video streaming on his monitor and saw a man whose mannerisms and walk were similar to his, smiling at Collette and talking to her. He stopped the video, hit a couple of buttons and enlarged the still frame. As the face got larger and larger it was clear there was a resemblance although Brian thought it wasn’t possible to form a conclusion from the video itself. He could see why the cop thought it could be him. It wasn’t, but it was close. But definitely it wasn’t Brian Sadler.
The man suddenly turned his face from the camera and grabbed Collette. Brian watched her face contort in fear. The intruder pulled her into an area out of the camera’s view. That was where the assault had occurred, the detective told him.
Brian leaned back in his chair and looked at Detective Calvin. “That’s not me.”
“It certainly looks like you.”
“If you actually believe that I want to talk to my attorney.”
“Then you’d better make that call.”
The two cops sat in Brian’s living room as he spoke with Nicole on his cell phone. He told her what had happened since their conversation less than an hour ago.
“Has he said he’s going to book you?” she asked.
“No.”
“OK, I’ll be there in the morning. I was looking at flights out of DFW while we were talking and I can get on the six am, arriving LaGuardia at 10:30. Let me talk to the detective and then I’ll get back on with you.”
Brian handed the phone to Detective Calvin, who listened to Nicole for a few moments then said, “I’m taking him downtown now. He’ll be released later this evening, presuming he can make bail.” He glanced at Brian with a slight smile. Brian stared back, remaining impassive but frightened inside. The conversation continued with a remark about Bernie Madoff.
What the hell? Brian thought.
There was a long pause as Nicole talked. Finally the detective said, “OK. I’m willing to do it that way. If I get his passport now I’ll see you both tomorrow afternoon.” Nicole said something and then the cop handed the phone back to Brian.
“Sweetie, try to get some sleep tonight. He has agreed to let you turn yourself in with me tomorrow afternoon but he wants your passport. I told him you’re an upstanding Fifth Avenue business owner and not a flight risk, and he said Bernie Madoff was upstanding too before he got a life sentence for fraud. Regardless, he’s agreed to let you turn yourself in with me tomorrow.
“Give him your passport and pick me up in a limo at the airport. I’ll email you flight info. We can talk in the car on the way back into Manhattan and I’ll go with you downtown. He’s going to meet us outside One Police Plaza, put you in a police car and take you in for booking. Once that’s done, I’ll meet you on the other side for your initial appearance before a judge.”
He thanked her, hung up and took his passport from a drawer. Detective Calvin took it and said, “Don’t fail to be there tomorrow, Mr. Sadler. This thing is serious enough now. If you run out on me after I did your attorney a big favor it’s not going to be a pretty sight when I find you. And trust me, I WILL find you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brian got less than two hours of sleep. Before bed he’d called Nicole to thank her again and tell her how much he needed her. Then he called his limo service and arranged a pickup for tomorrow. All night he tossed and turned, nightmares plaguing his brain, every sound piercing his senses. He had faced the possibility of spending time in jail once before in his life. Once again, he’d done absolutely nothing wrong but somehow, someone resembling him was in the video. Collette had unhesitatingly buzzed him in. She thought it was me! He found himself questioning everything, even his own sanity. What if he was schizophrenic or something? What if he actually had done it?
Brian couldn’t sleep. At six he got up, put on sweats and jogging shoes. As he left his building he saw an unmarked black police car sitting in the no parking zone across the street, a uniformed officer at the wheel. He ran down his block and turned north on Amsterdam Avenue – the car followed a block or so behind. To see what would happen, he turned up a one-way street going the wrong direction and ran toward Central Park two blocks away. He glanced back; the car was no longer trailing him.
He ran inside the park for nearly an hour, making his body go further and further and thinking only of each next step. The frenetic run kept his mind off lay ahead today. Finally he exited the park and went back to his apartment. The black car and its driver were across the street.
Brian noticed a text from Nicole saying she was boarding the plane and would see him shortly. There was no checked luggage; Nicole came to New York often and everything she needed was at Brian’s condo.
He regretted that Nicole had to interrupt her schedule and rush to New York, but he would have been in jail last night if she hadn’t convinced a detective to allow her client one more day of freedom. She’s the best criminal lawyer in America. If anyone can figure this out, she can.
At 9:30 Brian went downstairs, no idea what to expect this afternoon. He was dressed in a sport jacket, slacks and an open collar shirt. He didn’t know if he’d be wearing an orange jumpsuit later today but hoped he would be in these clothes when he mad
e his appearance before the judge. The doorman opened the door of the sedan and Brian climbed in.
“LaGuardia, right? American Airlines?” the driver said.
Brian nodded. “Park at the curb and I’ll run in and wait for my friend’s flight.”
He tracked Nicole’s flight. It was over West Virginia and would be landing at 10:35 am. He waited at a Starbucks outside security, watching passengers walk up the long hallway from the gates. Soon he spotted Nicole carrying a briefcase. She was dressed in a black St. John suit with a white shirt. He hadn’t seen her in a month and she looked absolutely gorgeous. She waved when she saw him.
“Hi, stranger. Can a girl bum a ride?” They kissed deeply.
“I’m really glad you came.” He took her case and they walked outside. As the driver headed toward Lower Manhattan Nicole went over what Brian should expect. She explained that once they met up with Detective Calvin he would take Brian from there. It would be up to him if Brian would be put in a cell and forced to wear a jumpsuit. Best case, she said, would be if the officer let Brian wear his street clothes until court.
“I need to tell you what happened yesterday,” he told her.
“Not here. Not in front of the driver. We’ll talk when we get out. We’re going to kill a little time. Arraignments happen between one and four pm so I’m not going to turn you over to Calvin until 12:30. If things worked out perfectly you could be booked and then be brought straight up the elevator from the jail to court. No matter what, I’ll be waiting for you outside the courtroom. The most important thing for you is to say nothing about this case to anyone. Especially Detective Calvin. I’ll do all the talking from this point on.”
The driver took the Brooklyn Bridge and they arrived downtown just before noon. Nicole asked him to drop them off on Broadway and stay in the area. She would notify him after court where to pick them up. They ducked into a coffee shop. They sat and Nicole took his hand. “You manage to need a lawyer pretty often! Are you a bad guy after all?”
Brian wasn’t in the mood for frivolity. Ignoring her comment, he told her about the surveillance video and his alibi. “I sat in the park for over half an hour. That’s not like me, and I’m having scary thoughts. I’m beginning to wonder if I was really in the park at all. What if I had some kind of mental lapse? Maybe I actually did go back to Bijan and hurt Collette.”
“We’ll go through the entire story tonight. For now just stay calm. You won’t have to say anything except maybe to enter a plea of not guilty if the judge chooses to ask you instead of me.”
“Are you certain I’ll be able to get out on bail?”
“Absolutely. Don’t worry about it. You’re accused of assault. Although your situation may be more high profile because it’s a Fifth Avenue case, it’s the same charge as hundreds of people a day get in New York. There aren’t enough cells to hold all these alleged assailants.”
It was time to go. Nicole asked Brian for everything in his pockets, plus his watch, saying, “It’ll be easier not to have anything to pick up later.” They walked to Pearl Street and Brian saw the detective standing next to a black and white NYPD sedan.
The cop introduced himself to Nicole and turned to Brian. “I’m taking you over to central processing. You’ll meet back up with your attorney in the courtroom.”
Nicole kissed Brian and said, “See you shortly, baby.”
Brian got in the back seat of the squad car. There was a wire cage between the front and back seats. “Thanks for turning yourself in, Mr. Sadler. You saved yourself a lot of grief. Same for your attorney, or whatever she is to you.” The car drove less than five hundred feet, around the corner and into a garage area. When it stopped Brian could see a doorway with a sign that read “PRISONERS ONLY.” Instinctively he tried to open the rear door but it was locked. The detective hopped out and opened it from the outside, ushering Brian through the door and into a busy area. The place looked like an ancient hospital waiting room – tile floors, folding chairs along one wall and a series of bulletproof windows that resembled bank teller cages. Behind him was a wall made of bars. There were four large holding cells and people stood at the doors yelling as he came in.
“Hey, pretty boy,” one large man said with a wolf-whistle. “Hey cop, put that one in here with me!” The noise level was deafening and it smelled like floor cleaner, urine and sweat. One cell held only women, mostly prostitutes, Brian figured. Some were dressed garishly and all looked tired and bored.
“Just stay with me for now, Mr. Sadler,” the detective said, and Brian was glad for that. Using an access card they walked through a set of doors and a metal detector into a large room.
“Sit here.” He gestured to a chair at a folding table. He sat across from Brian and got some paperwork out of a folio he carried. He walked over to a fat sergeant who lounged in a chair by a camera on a tripod. “Time to get to work,” the detective said laughingly as he handed papers to the cop.
“Come over here, Mr. Sadler,” the detective said. “You’ll go through a process now where you’re photographed, searched and fingerprinted. Do you have any personal belongings on you? If so this man will take them, give you a receipt and return them when you’re released on bail.”
“I gave Nicole my personal effects. Will I be able to keep wearing these clothes?”
“Possibly. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes and let you know. If’s court’s delayed for any reason you’ll have to stay in a holding cell down here until we go upstairs. If that happens you’ll be required to wear a jumpsuit and be brought over by a uniformed policeman. Hopefully we’re going straight to the Criminal Courts Building. If that’s the case I’ll take you myself and you can wear your street clothes.”
He turned Brian over to the fat sergeant who instructed Brian to raise his arms above his head. He frisked him thoroughly then told Brian to stand against a wall that had a ruler on it to mark Brian’s height. When he was positioned, the cop put a sign in front of Brian with an intake number on it.
This is bizarre.
He was passed to another officer for fingerprinting, then to a third who said, “OK. Strip down.”
Brian removed his shirt, t-shirt and pants, laying them on a chair. He turned to the officer who said, “Everything, buddy. Get your panties off and your socks too.” The officer was putting on a rubber glove.
In what had to be one of life’s ignominious moments, Brian stood naked as the man looked him over, felt under his testicles, then said, “OK. Fun time. Turn around and bend over that table.”
When the humiliation was complete, the cop said, “Detective Calvin said for you to put your street clothes back on for now. Just sit right over there in that chair and wait.”
After he dressed he asked, “May I have some water?”
The cop looked at him and laughed. “This ain’t the Ritz, buddy, and I ain’t your waiter. You can tough it out. You’re in the Jailhouse Hilton now!”
Brian sat for what seemed like an hour but was probably ten minutes. Detective Calvin came back and said, “Good news and bad news, Mr. Sadler. Court is on schedule this afternoon and we’re going right on over. The bad news is I have to handcuff you.”
The Criminal Courts Building of the City of New York was next door to One Police Plaza. Once Brian’s hands were cuffed behind him, the police detective walked him over. They took an elevator to the eighth floor. As the doors opened into a broad hallway, Brian saw over a dozen men and women in orange jumpsuits with the word “PRISONER” on the shirt and down the left pant leg. All were handcuffed like Brian and all were accompanied by police officers. He was thankful for the small favor of wearing his own clothes.
He looked around and spotted Nicole coming toward him. “Hey, how’d it go?”
The detective moved away slightly so they could talk. “As well as could be expected, I guess. At least I’m still in my clothes.”
Nicole said, “This may take awhile. I’ve looked at the docket and you’re twelfth on the list. If they
’re all here everyone has to enter pleas and be arraigned. It could take an hour, maybe a lot longer.”
Brian looked anxiously at her. “There’s no reason why they wouldn’t get to my case today, is there? I damn sure don’t want to spend the night here.”
“It should be fine. I’ve been here before and it usually goes pretty smoothly. It’s in their interest to move cases as fast as possible. Tomorrow will be busy just like today, and anything the judges hold over just backs up the system.”
She looked at her watch and motioned to the detective. “You OK for us to go on in now?”
He nodded and the three of them went into the courtroom. He led Nicole and Brian to a cordoned off area below a sign that said, “DEFENDANTS.” They sat and Detective Calvin stood at the end of the aisle. In a few minutes all the other people whom Brian had seen outside in jumpsuits were similarly seated.
Exactly at 1:30 pm a man stood and said, “All rise for the Honorable Judge Marvin Andiamo.” The Judge, who appeared to be in his 50s with graying hair, entered and took his seat. The Court Clerk called off the first case.
Some cases went quickly, some more slowly and some were postponed immediately because one of the parties wasn’t present. It was 3:15 when the Clerk announced, “Case F175948, State of New York vs. Brian Thomas Sadler.”
Nicole and Brian moved to a table in front of the Judge and Detective Calvin walked to a matching table across the aisle, next to a man whom Nicole told Brian was an Assistant District Attorney. The detective whispered briefly to the ADA as Nicole said loudly, “Represented by Counsel, Your Honor.”
“Approach the bench please, Counselors,” the Judge said. Nicole and the ADA walked to the bench. They conversed quietly for a few minutes and returned to their seats.
“What was that all about?” Brian whispered.
She shushed him as the Judge said, “Mr. Sadler, please rise.” Brian and Nicole stood. She pressed a button on her cell phone then set it on the table. “You’re charged with felony assault. Do you understand the charges against you?” the Judge asked.
Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet Page 31