Facing A Twisted Judgment

by K. J. McGillick

  “I’ll be there early. And, Declan, thanks.”

  “Hopefully, the barbeque this weekend will be a celebratory one in more ways than one,” he said.

  “I believe it will,” I responded.

  My next call was to Cillian, who said he’d meet me at the precinct in the morning. He decided to hold off on calling Bill until we had all the facts.

  At 7:30 a.m. Cillian parked his car at the police station, and we entered the building that was becoming a second home.

  “We’re here for Detective Murphy,” I announced.

  We were buzzed back and directed to Declan’s office.

  When he saw us enter, he stood and shook hands with Cillian. Then, he offered us a seat across from him. The file marked Alexander Clarke had grown substantially thicker over the last few days, and I hoped it was due to solid information.

  “So, give us the scoop,” I said.

  Declan leaned back in his chair and pushed the folder for us to look through. Cillian opened it, and we both glanced through the reports and photos.

  “Last night, the cameras were triggered in the house. Something went wrong where we couldn’t see who’d entered, so we did an all-point call-out. Our first thought was, there was a burglary in progress. People know the place is vacant, so it’s something we would expect. When we got there, the place was dark, and we ran the plates on the car hidden in the driveway, and it came back to a rental for Alex Clarke. I thought he had snuck in to get more personal items. Or do what Alex Clarke does—muck things up.

  “Bud and I did the initial sweep, and that’s when we saw there was an illuminated area in the kitchen. As we approached, we saw the granite slab pulled back, and there was an underground area we’d had no idea existed. At this point, I didn’t know if Clarke was armed and dangerous, so I called for backup. We descended the staircase and found Clarke standing at the bottom. There was a funky smell down there, and it was freezing. It was some type of wine cellar, but at that temperature, the wines were probably ruined. When we looked around, we found a rug, and when we unrolled it, we found Samantha Clarke,” he said.

  I gasped.

  Cillian sat forward, and, “Oh shit,” slipped from his lips.

  “Could you tell how long she had been dead?” I asked.

  “The medical examiner will work on her first thing this morning. The temperature had been set to freezing in the area, so that stopped some of the decomp. And thank God because the smell was bad, but if it had been at full rot, it would have been unbearable. Doc really couldn’t use a liver temperature to tell because of the room temperature. But he said he has a program that extrapolates that information, and he’ll have it with the autopsy,” Declan advised.

  “Could he tell the cause of death?” Cillian asked.

  “Even I could tell the cause of death. Blunt force trauma to the head,” Declan said.

  “Any sign of the paintings?” Cillian asked.

  “Nothing. No sign they had ever been there,” Declan said. “Plus, if he planned to sell them, that temperature could cause some issues with the canvases. I’ll be asking him about that in the interrogation.”

  “When does the interrogation start?” I asked.

  “I plan to start it at eight. I’m just waiting on his lawyer to get here. He hired Pierce Tarvin, and I hate that guy. Don’t get me wrong; there’s never been even a whisper that he’s unethical. But the man is a genius and uses every brain cell to the advantage of his client. He’s a professor at the university, and he probably knows the law better than any attorney in this state. In fact, he’s written several books on criminal procedure.

  “I’d like to offer one of you the opportunity to sit in with me. You’re both attorneys, and, Cillian, I know you already are licensed here, in Colorado. But Dalia has more intimate knowledge of the case. So, choose who would better serve your client. But you need to take my lead,” he said.

  “Dalia, I think you should be the one. I’ll sit in the monitoring room,” Cillian said.

  “Thanks, Cillian. I think I’d be jumping out of my skin, waiting in a room,” I said.

  Declan looked at his phone and told us that Pierce Tarvin had arrived.

  “Give me a minute while I give him the arrest warrants and share some information. I’ll come to get you as soon as we’re ready to start the interrogation,” he said and left the room.

  “You and Murphy have something going on?” Cillian asked. He picked up the photos and shuffled through them.

  If I had been in my old job, this might have been a question I wouldn’t want to answer. A yes could have compromised cases we worked on together in the future. But here, there was no such obstacle.

  “If you’re asking if we’ve been intimate, then no. If you’re asking if I’d like to pursue a relationship, then yes,” I said.

  He smiled.

  “Why the smile?” I asked.

  “Because Declan Murphy might get me my new cybersecurity person I so desperately need,” he said.

  I was stunned. “What? How did you know?” I asked.

  “The government trained me well,” he responded. He placed the photos back on the desk.

  “You know I’m just shy of my degree in cybersecurity?” I asked.

  “You’re just missing a practicum, I heard. I happen to know a man who can give you that practical experience on steroids,” he said, shifting in his chair.

  “Tyler?” I asked.

  “Tyler,” he returned.

  “Mary knows?” I asked.

  “Who do you think set this whole thing in motion?” he said.

  I was about to accept the offer when Declan returned.

  “We’re ready. I’ve served two arrest warrants on Clarke. One for first-degree murder and one for theft of the paintings. The paintings are a stretch because we don’t know where they are, so we need to find them and prove they were in his hands. Ready?” he said.

  I stood and walked into the interrogation room with Declan. Introductions were made. Declan was right; Pierce Tarvin looked like he had his shit together.

  “For the record, would everyone please state their names and affiliation with the case?” Declan said. “I’ll begin. I am Detective Declan Murphy, Denver Major Crimes.”

  “I am Dalia Grey, representing Bristol’s Insurance, the insurance company who insured the paintings.”

  “Pierce Tarvin, defense counsel for Mr. Clarke.”

  “Alexander Clarke, defendant.”

  “Mr. Clarke, your attorney has been served with your warrants; is that correct?” Declan asked.

  “Don’t answer that, Alex. You are asking him to make a legal determination if these are valid documents and if they are warrants. Detective, address all the questions to me. Yes, I was served two documents on his behalf,” Tarvin said.

  “And, Mr. Clarke, you’ve been read your Miranda rights; is that correct?” Declan asked.

  “Mr. Clarke was read his rights last night when he was taken into custody,” Tarvin answered.

  “Mr. Clarke, do you understand your rights?” Declan asked.

  “Mr. Clarke understands his rights and waives further reading of them,” Tarvin said.

  “Fine. Now, Mr. Clarke, is your wife the owner of 90 Magna Drive, Denver, Colorado?” Declan asked.

  “That’s a matter of public record, Detective Murphy,” Tarvin answered.

  This man was impossible.

  “What were you doing at 90 Magna Drive last night?” Declan asked.

  “I’ve advised my client not to answer any questions at this time,” Tarvin replied.

  “Any questions at all?” Declan clarified.

  “That is correct,” Tarvin said. “I’ve arranged for a bond hearing later today. Will we see you then?”

  Maybe Declan should continue the questions just to bust the guy’s balls and make him repeat himself. I would. I’d keep his ass in that chair for hours.

  “Yes,” Declan answered.

  “I see you have my client�
��s phone. I’d like to see a text he received last night,” Tarvin said.

  Declan removed the phone from the evidence case and powered it up. When the phone was operational, Declan engaged the text app. There was no text regarding the paintings, nor had he received any text messages at all last night.

  “Did anyone delete the text?” Tarvin asked.

  “Absolutely not. We had Mr. Clarke power down his phone and place it in the evidence bag where you see his initials and the officer’s initials at the scene. And to what avail would we tamper with evidence? You can get a read-out from his mobile company with a subpoena,” Declan said.

  “Go ahead and rebag it, and I’ll sign with you,” Tarvin said.

  The phone was placed back in the bag, and both men signed.

  “If that’s all, you can return my client to holding. I’ll see him later today for the bond hearing,” Tarvin said.

  Alex was escorted out, and Tarvin left immediately after.

  Declan and I waited for Cillian to join us.

  “What the hell was that?” Cillian asked.

  “That, my friends, was the Pierce Tarvin show. Get used to it. At the arraignment, he won’t let his client plead guilty or not guilty because he will assert that is requiring his client to make a legal determination of a question. So, he makes the judge enter a not guilty just to make a point,” Declan said.

  “You think he’ll get bail?” Cillian asked.

  “Hard to say. He’s a member of the bar, although his reputation is not sterling. He’s probably not a flight risk. The evidence is circumstantial but strong with him revisiting the scene of the crime. I possibly can link Adams’s murder in once trace is finished.

  “And the paintings … well, a tip came in that gave us a location of the paintings. From that tip, I’ve got someone searching a particular area of the house. It started as a call that came in and said they had information about the Adams murder. That this person was an associate of Adams and said Adams had told her the paintings were in a panic room in the Bennington house. We had to get blueprints to find such a room. We got them an hour ago, and a team is on the way over,” Declan said.

  “No shit! I don’t suppose you could trace the call?” Cillian asked.

  “No. But it’s probably a burner,” Declan said.

  “Why are we waiting?” I asked.

  “We needed a new search warrant,” Declan said.

  “And?” I pressed.

  “Okay, we can head over. By the time we get there, it should be electronically approved,” he said.

  “You two go together. I’ll call Mary and Jax and meet you there to validate the paintings if they’re there,” Cillian said.

  I gave him the thumbs-up. Declan snatched his keys from the desk, and we were on our way.

  Dalia

  Our ride over to the house was made in a comfortable silence. I played the events over in my head, and things didn’t fall into place like I preferred them. As a senior ADA, I’d receive the file after most of the investigation was completed by the police and worked up by the junior staff. By that time, there were few holes to plug, and most, I could work around with ease. But it made me feel uneasy to be thrown into the middle of an investigation and try to sift through the information.

  “Declan, this whole anonymous-tip thing feels off. Why not ask if there’s a reward for information? If Marissa was part of this whole scene, would she really have told someone about it? I don’t see her as the gossipy, share everything with your BFF type of person,” I said.

  “I agree. But one step at a time. Let’s verify that the paintings are there and then work toward who had access,” he said.

  His telephone rang into the Bluetooth system of the car, and he engaged it from the steering wheel.

  “Murphy,” he answered.

  “Boss, we received the signed search warrant, and we found the panic room in the house. According to the information we tracked, it works off a digital system. Can I authorize the alarm company to remotely open it?” the man asked.

  “Yes, but wait until everyone is there to open it. I’ve authorized the team from the insurance company to be there. If the paintings are there, they can inventory them and notify their legal department, so they can decide how to handle the evidence issues,” Declan said.

  “What a nightmare this will be for Bristol’s. The paintings will have to be taken into evidence and stored someplace to preserve the chain of custody, which will cost the city a huge chunk of money for security. You can’t just leave one hundred thirty million dollars’ worth of art in some evidence lockup. The art world would go crazy,” I said.

  “I have a feeling, because of all the publicity and the Benningtons being who they are, that this case will be on some judge’s rocket docket. Pierce Tarvin is the king of speedy trial motions, which gives the state less time to build their best case. If this pans out and the pictures are in the panic room, that will just put another nail in Clarke’s coffin,” Declan said.

  “Not to burst your bubble, but let me play devil’s advocate here. If Alex tripped the alarm, engaging the cameras, last night, how could he have gotten to the panic room to remove the paintings to put around Marissa’s dead body and returned them without tripping the cameras? Clearly, as large as they are, he’d have had to make several trips,” I said.

  “I’ve been mulling that over myself. I don’t know where the panic room is, so I’ll have to see if there are blind spots that the cameras didn’t pick up. We didn’t put them all over the house, just at the ingress and egress areas. We’ll have to check out the elevator access as well. Maybe he was able to use that to move them,” he said.

  “And what about the home alarm system? That’s a very sophisticated system. Wouldn’t that pick up anyone coming and going?” I asked.

  “With everyone coming and going, we had them disengage the system. I’m glad that decision was above my pay grade,” Declan confessed.

  There were still too many unanswered questions and too many pieces that didn’t fit.

  “Look, there’s Mary and Cillian,” I pointed.

  Mary had her pocketbook balanced on the car, probably deciding which of her arsenal to leave in the car and which to take with her.

  “Okay, let’s park this rig and get in there,” he said.

  After he parked, I turned and put a hand on his right arm.

  “After we finish with the paintings, can you show me the cellar where the body was found?” I asked.

  There were still some nagging questions about the body transport, and I hoped a visit to the scene would help.

  “I see no reason why not. Let’s rock,” he said and smiled.

  As we walked toward Cillian and Mary, I heard Mary say, “I hope this doesn’t turn into a fiasco like Geraldo Rivera’s coverage on Al Capone’s empty vault.”

  “Keep a positive thought rolling, Mary,” Cillian said.

  “Why? I’ll only be disappointed,” she said and closed her bag.

  “Where’s Jackson?” I asked.

  “He’s already in the house with the tech boys, filming the preliminaries,” Cillian said.

  “Okay, people, let’s get this show on the road,” Declan said.

  We waited in line to sign the log of people who entered the house, and each received a sticky badge to put our name on. I was surprised to see Pierce Tarvin’s name on the log. He had a right to be there; it just surprised me he’d made it here before we did.

  It was easy to find where the panic room was located by following the noise. We walked through a large hall and then up a flight of stairs to where everyone was congregated.

  “Let’s get started. I want the people filming over here. Mr. Tarvin, who represents Alex Clarke, please stand here. Cillian O’Reilly, who represents Bristol’s, you’re here. The first to enter will be the video recorders to document what’s in the room. Then, Mr. Tarvin and Mr. O’Reilly can enter and take whatever photos or notes they need. After that, forensics will come to process the
room. Mr. Tarvin, you’re welcome to stay if you want to watch the processing. Now, everyone has booties, gloves, and a mask?” Declan asked.

  There were nods, thumbs-up, and a few yeses.

  “Okay, tell the alarm company to pop this puppy,” Declan said.

  Everyone held his or her breath in anticipation, but nothing happened. The board did not light up, nor was there any clicking noise to pop the panel.

  “What’s wrong?” Declan asked the man standing next to him.

  “Hold on. I’ve got them on the phone,” another detective said.

  He walked away from the crowd to have a conversation with the representative.

  “They say someone has reprogrammed it from this end, and they’ll have to send someone out to unscramble the code,” Curran said.

  “No need,” Mary said.

  She stepped forward, folded her arms, and blocked access to the panel.

  Everyone turned toward her, and Tarvin stopped taking notes and gave her his full attention.

  “Pardon?” Declan responded.

  I could tell he was fighting back a laugh, and surprisingly, he was able to accomplish the feat.

  “I’ve got an alarm bypass tool right here that you can use,” she said, opening her bag.

  Before she could remove it and possibly compromise the investigation, I stepped up and put my hand on her arm.

  “Now, what do you have?” Declan asked.

  “You know, it’s like how thieves bypass the key-entry system in a hotel. This is a state-of-the-art alarm bypass tool,” she said.

  “Tyler?” I asked quietly.

  She nodded.

  “How do we know this thing won’t mess up the whole system?” Declan asked.

  “Boss, the guy said they are five minutes out,” Curran said.

  “I think we’re better off waiting for the alarm company. This way, for court, everything will be by the book,” Declan said.

  Pierce Tarvin was eyeing everyone over and looking at us like we were a sideshow for his amusement. But I was pretty sure he was evaluating who would be the weak link to put on the stand at court. I could tell he had already targeted Mary. He would be sorry, very sorry.