by Henry Hack
●
“Let me have your memo book, Officer,” she said.
Harry reached into his back pocket and withdrew the well-worn, black-leather book and handed it to Sergeant Goldman. She removed the memo book pad and handed the cover back to him. She reached over to her desk and picked up a new pad, which she also handed to him.
“I trust your memo book is up to date?”
“Yes, Sergeant, except for my last entry which should be the time I arrived here at Internal Affairs.”
“I’ll make that entry for you, and I will also note the time I took this pad from you. You will get this back at the conclusion of the investigation. She flipped nonchalantly through the pad and stopped at the pages where he had recorded the events on Christmas Eve. “Are these entries concerning the incident at the Bird’s Nest Lounge true and factual, Officer Cassidy?”
“Yes.”
“Any omissions of pertinent facts?”
“None that I recall.”
“What is that supposed to mean? Are there, or are there not, any omissions?”
“The entries are a synopsis of an incident, not a short story. You know that.”
“Don’t tell me what I know. And a short story is fiction. Is that what these entries are, fiction?”
“No, Sergeant, I recorded just the facts.”
“Then tell me the facts, from beginning to end, as you recall them.”
“May I refer to my memo book entries?”
“No, you may not. Surely, Officer Cassidy, you can recall this incident clearly. It only happened a few days ago.”
Bitch! Harry told the tale, it seemed for the tenth time, and his story was consistent with the entries he had made in his memo book.
“Tell me again about the confrontation between you and Winston.”
“As I spoke to him, he smirked at me and then he started to walk away. I reached over the bar and grabbed him back. We exchanged some heated words.”
“Were you using profanity?”
“Yes, we both were.”
“Do you recall the exact profanities you said to Mr. Winston?”
“No.”
She reached over to her desk and picked up three sets of typewritten pages, probably the statements from the three witnesses Nick had tracked down.
“Is it possible you called him a shitbird?”
“That’s possible, but I don’t recall using that exact word.”
“How about scumbag?”
“Yeah, that fits Richie all right.”
“Do you recall any other profanities you might have said?”
“No, Sergeant.”
“Why did you choke Winston?”
“I didn’t choke him.”
“What did you do, then? You said you put your hands on him to bring him back, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. But I didn’t choke him.”
“Show me what you did. Officer Vitale would you be so kind as to assist Officer Cassidy? Pretend you are Richie Winston?”
“Sure, Sergeant.”
“Go ahead.”
Harry and Joe got up and stood on either side of the desk. Harry said, “Start to walk away, Joe – to your left.”
Joe began to move away and Harry reached over the desk and grabbed Joe by the lapels and brought him up close to his face. “And that’s just the way it happened, Sergeant.”
“And your hands never went around his throat and squeezed hard?”
“No.”
She rose angrily and threw the papers down on her desk. “Sit down, Officer,” she said, raising her voice. She glared down at him. “Then why do I have three statements in front of me that say that’s exactly what you did? That you choked the breath out of Richie Winston?”
Harry, crazily, wanted to say “Gee, you’re cute when you’re angry,” but chased away the thought. Instead, he said, “Is that what they say, Sergeant?”
“I just told you that, didn’t I?”
“May I read those statements?”
“No.”
“May I read just the part containing the accusations?”
“No. Do you doubt my veracity, Officer?”
“I’ve been lied to before, haven’t you, Sergeant?”
She was surprised this beat cop even knew the meaning of the word veracity, and he began to piss her off. “Why would they state you did? In a sworn statement?”
“How should I know? They don’t like me? I guess they’re trying to get me in trouble, which seems to be working, since I’m sitting here right now.”
“Then for the record, Officer Cassidy, you are stating you did not choke Richie Winston?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“Would you voluntarily consent to taking a polygraph examination and respond to that question?”
“No, Sergeant.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have to. I don’t trust the box, and neither does the courts. And the courts have ruled you can’t force me to take one, that’s why.”
“I said voluntarily.”
“I’m not the volunteering type.”
“Did you know that court decision is still on appeal by the Department up in Albany?”
“When the seven learned jurists on the Court of Appeals overturn the Appellate Division, give me a call, and then you can wire me up.”
She ignored the sarcasm, but was impressed with his knowledge of the court system. Vitale cleared his throat, causing Harry to glance over at him. Joe rolled his eyes and shook his head back and forth. Harry got the message, but she had been pushing him, and he didn’t like it.
“Something caught in your throat, Vitale?”
“No, Sergeant. Pardon me.”
Sergeant Goldman looked at her watch and said, “Let’s take a break. Maybe a little water will help that throat. Be back here in 15 minutes, promptly.”
She escorted Harry and Joe back to the reception room where Miss Livermore busily filed her nails as she awaited her next cigarette break.
“What do you think, Joe? How’s it going?”
“Not too good. She’s starting to get to you. Try to stay with the one word answers and stop the sarcasm.”
“Some of those questions I can’t give one word answers to.”
“I know. She’s good at asking those open-ended questions that make you say more than you should.”
“Let’s go outside. I need a smoke, and I know I’ll need a big scotch when this inquisition is over. Damn, she is one fine looking woman. How can she be such a nasty bitch?”
“As I said before don’t be fooled by her looks. She is attractive, but you seem to be going a little overboard here. I mean she’s not Catherine Zeta Jones, you know.”
“Yeah, but something about her stirs me up. I haven’t gotten a feeling like this over a woman since my divorce.”
“I think you may need that scotch right now.”
Chapter Six
After leaving the two officers in the reception area, Susan walked back into the office area and knocked on her partner’s door, Sergeant Rita Becker.
“Come in,” she called out.
“Hi, Rita. What’s with the closed door?”
“Hi, Sue. Just reviewing some tapes on a case, and the quality is not the best. Trying to shut out the outside noise. What’s up?”
“I’m in the middle of an interview and I have a problem. Maybe you can help.”
“Sure, fire away.”
“I have this Officer Harold Cassidy on a possible brutality charge and I want your input on the rest of the interview when the break is over.”
“Do you want me in with you, or to just look in at an observation port?”
“I want you in with me. I want to be sure I’m conducting this interview objectively and not missing anything.”
“Since when are you not objective?”
“That’s the problem. When I met Cassidy in the reception room, something happened that’s got me…that’s got me….quirky.”
> “Quirky? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t laugh. When our eyes first met, I felt a little giddy.”
“Giddy? Quirky? Jesus, are you telling me this is love at first sight?”
“I don’t know what I’m telling you, but I think he felt it too.”
“Felt what?”
“You know, a flutter. Like electricity in the air.”
“Oh, my goodness. Are you nuts?”
“Maybe I am, but I haven’t had this feeling toward a man since Steve died.”
“Who is this guy anyway? Just a cop?”
“Yes, just a cop. And a dumb Irish beat cop to boot. But now, I don’t think he’s as dumb as I first thought.”
“Susan, what are you thinking? You are going to be a lawyer. You are a sergeant who may be a lieutenant soon, and you’re telling me you have the hots for a beat cop? Who is this Cassidy anyway?”
“I don’t know. All I have is the case information from Gregorovich. I haven’t gotten his entire personnel file from Boro HQ yet. Do me a favor. Put a call in to Boro to expedite the delivery of his file. We’ll review it together, okay? Be with me on this.”
“Sure, I’ll call Boro for you, but listen to me now. She took Susan’s hand in hers and said, “Susan, you’re 30 years old, not some giddy 15 year old teenager. Love at first sight is a myth. It doesn’t happen. Okay?”
Susan said with a sigh, “Okay, let’s get back to the interview.”
●
“Officer Cassidy, Officer Vitale, this is Sergeant Rita Becker of Internal Affairs who will sit in on the rest of this interview. If she desires, she may also ask questions.”
Cassidy looked over at Vitale, who just stared straight ahead. “Do I have any say in this matter, Sergeant Goldman?”
“What do you mean, Officer?”
“Now you’re going against me two on one. Am I too difficult for you alone?”
“Not at all. And, no, you have no say in this matter.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, noting Sergeant Becker was quite a looker herself.
“What did you say?”
“Please pardon me. Yes, Sergeant, was what I meant.”
“According to your last memo book entry on the evening of December 24, you left the Bird’s Nest and walked to the callbox at your relieving point and signed off duty. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Harry said, knowing what was coming next.
“And then what did you do?”
“I drove home.”
“Did you stay home?”
“No.”
“You went back to the Bird’s Nest, didn’t you?”
Harry knew this question had to be put to him sooner or later, and he had pondered long and hard on how to answer it. He had already told Pop Hunter he signed off duty around midnight and that was that. But he knew the guy who wrote the anonymous letter to the DA might write another one, and Pop Hunter or Nick Faliani might locate him. Who was he kidding? They would find him. It was just a matter of time. He took the plunge and answered, “Yes, Sergeant.”
Susan Goldman was totally surprised. She hadn’t expected this admission from Cassidy at all, and she had thought she could never get that admission from him. But here it was, right out there in her lap.
“Why did you go back to the bar?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s an unsatisfactory answer, Officer. Detail the times and events for me from the minute you signed off duty.”
“I drove straight home and put the TV on and had a couple of beers. I kept thinking about Winston and those scumbags smirking at me when they realized the kid had booked and I hadn’t known it. I guess I just went back there to stir things up.”
“Stir things up? Cassidy, wasn’t your intention to go back and do bodily harm to Richard Winston? Wasn’t it, Officer? Wasn’t it?” she hammered at him.
“No, Sergeant. As I said, I didn’t go back with any definite thoughts on what I would do.”
“Go on.”
“I got back to the Nest about 3 a.m. and I went in and ordered a beer. Richie was not happy to see me and I saw he was scared.”
“Did that make you feel good? That Winston felt afraid of you?” Becker asked.
Harry turned toward her and said, “Yes, it did, Sergeant.”
“Who else was in the bar besides you and Winston?” Goldman asked.
“Just one other guy and he only stayed a short time. He left about 20 minutes after I got there.”
“How much did you have to drink there?” Becker asked.
“About one or two glasses of beer,” he lied.
“And how many had you had at home prior to leaving for the bar?”
“One or two cans,” he lied again.
“Then you were intoxicated, weren’t you?” Goldman asked.
“No, those beers were spaced out over three hours. I wasn’t intoxicated at all.”
“How long did you stay in the Nest after the unknown patron left?”
“About ten minutes. Richie wanted to nail some boards over the door.”
“Did you have any words with Winston when the patron was there?”
“Yes, we went at it pretty good, and we used profanity at each other.”
“What was the essence of your conversation with Winston?” Becker asked.
“He was pissed off I came back for no apparent reason. He knew I had nothing on him, and he kept saying either to lock him up or get out of his bar and leave him alone.”
“He was right, wasn’t he?” Goldman asked.
“Yeah, but I couldn’t let him get over on me. He had to know I was in charge of my beat, and I wouldn’t back down. That’s my corner of the world, not his.”
“Did you grab him again? Or strike him?” Goldman asked.
“No.”
“How do we know you didn’t? After all, you grabbed him in front of six or seven witnesses. How do we know you didn’t stab him and shoot him and dump him in his car to die?” Goldman asked.
“Why don’t you go ask him?”
“Don’t be a wiseguy,” Goldman said. “You know he’s in a coma.”
“Then ask him when he wakes up.”
“What time did you say you left the bar?” Becker asked.
“Around 3:30, maybe 3:40.”
“Where did you go then,” Goldman asked.
“Home. I drove straight to my apartment and went to bed.”
“What time did you get home?”
“Around 4:05, maybe 4:10.”
“It’s curious, Officer,” Goldman said, “that you did not make any memo book entries concerning this off-duty encounter, nor did you see fit to report your actions to the homicide investigators. Why not?”
“I don’t believe memo book entries are required. I took no official police action. and I felt the incident was not relevant to the investigation, so I didn’t mention it to Hunter or Faliani.”
“Not relevant?” Becker asked. “How can you say this was not relevant? If you left the bar when you say you did, it makes you the last person to see Winston before he was attacked. Don’t you think the investigators should know that?”
“Maybe. I didn’t think it was that important.”
Sergeant Goldman looked at her watch. It was after one. She looked over at Rita who shook her head slightly, indicating she had no further questions.
“All right,” she said. “This interview is now over. The time is 1:09 p.m. Wednesday, December 28. Officer Cassidy, when I leave I will turn off all audio and video recording equipment. Prepare a report directed to Inspector Gregorovich on these allegations. As I have already stated, Officer Vitale may help you with the report. Leave it with Miss Livermore on your way out. Then return to your command.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. Is this the end of the investigation?”
“Not by a long shot. This was only the initial interview. By the way, are you still on day tours tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll find you on post. You can show me the scene of the crime. It might give me a clearer picture of what went on that night.”
“Should I have a delegate with me?” Harry asked, looking over at Joe.
“If you want, but I don’t believe it will be necessary. I don’t plan to interrogate you further. I just want to clarify some items.”
Joe shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s up to you. I’ll be there if you want me.”
Harry thought a moment and then said, “No need, Joe.” He looked directly at Goldman and smiled. “If Sergeant Goldman attempts to push me around on my beat, I’ll push back. Is it okay to go for a smoke before I write the report?”
“Yes, and you two can get some lunch, if you want.”
“Thanks. I don’t know about Joe, but after three hours with you and your partner, I’m not hungry at all.”
“Your choice,” she said, as she and Rita walked out of the room.
●
“Am I in deep shit here, Joe?”
“Yeah, they could nail you on a few charges, that’s for sure. But I don’t think they have enough to dismiss you from the Force.”
“Dismiss me? For this petty bullshit? I don’t believe it.”
“I said they didn’t have enough, so calm down. But those two kamikazeed you pretty good back there.”
“What do you mean kamikazeed?”
“I’ve heard from other delegates those two sergeants often get together on an interview. They’re known as the Kamikaze Twins, you know, Japs.”
“Japs? I don’t get it.”
“J-A-P’s. Jewish American Princesses.”
“Now I get it. Goldman and Becker. The Mad Russian is the boss and he sends the Japs after me. What a Job.”
“Yeah, but at least they were a couple of pretty good looking Japs. And you were openly drooling over Goldman even though she tried to fry your ass.”
“Did you also notice the time she damn near gave me a beaver shot when she crossed her legs?”