Breman and Klinger had been indicted for obstruction of justice and withholding of evidence. Between them and Rachman, he was sure that it wouldn’t be long before the press started accusing him of being prejudiced against women in the justice system.
Newbury was in the process of adding on to the current indictment against Hugh Louis a host of charges, starting with conspiracy to commit murder in the death of Ivan Kaminsky. The now Coney Island Three were engaged in a competition for who could spill his guts—all of it properly recorded in the presence of their lawyers—to finger Louis as directing Sykes to kill Ivan.
Newbury had hoped that they might also nail Olav Radinskaya on the conspiracy charge to go along with the indictments facing Zulu, Lindahl, and Ewen for the No Prosecution and Coney Island Four conspiracies, but the Russian had disappeared a few days after the trial. His body had subsequently been found floating beneath the pylons of the Coney Island pier, an apparent victim of a garrote.
In fact, there seemed to be something unhealthy in the air for anyone involved in these most recent cases. Ted Vanders, who, according to a note typed on his computer, was distraught over losing his beloved Sarah Ryder, had apparently committed suicide by throwing himself off the fire escape of his Minetta Street apartment.
The wheels of justice grinding away, Karp thought as he looked around his office. Repass and Russell were over in a corner laughing as they fended off Guma’s attempts to get them drunk “and let you take advantage of us.” Stupenagel and Murrow were arguing some point with Kipman, while Newbury smirked.
Dick Torrisi walked into the office and was promptly handed a beer by Mrs. Milquetost, who’d finished her first and wondered “why a nice man like you isn’t married. Perhaps you’d like to meet my daughter…she’s a little on the heavy side but…”
“I didn’t get a chance to thank you in person after the trial,” Torrisi said, disengaging himself and walking up to Karp with his hand extended. “Things got a little hectic there with all the bullets and bodies flying around. So thanks. And I wanted to add that your approval rating with the PBA has gone through the roof. Arresting Rachman showed them that you’ll go after anybody, even in your own office, then taking down a federal judge and the Brooklyn DA…well, let’s just say me and the boys, we appreciate you going to bat for us. I think you can count on the membership next fall.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that, but I was just doing my job,” Karp said.
“Nah, you might have been following your conscience,” Torrisi said, “but it wasn’t your job.”
Their conversation ended when the others in the room started to clap. Karp looked around and saw Liz Tyler standing shyly at the door. She went around the room and shook everyone’s hands and came last to Karp and Torrisi, who kissed her on the cheek and excused himself.
“Any idea what you’re going to do now?” Karp asked.
Tyler looked up at him sideways with a shy smile. “Well, a couple of days after the trial, I got a call from my ex-husband. Apparently some guy with the newspapers got in touch with him to get a comment and told him what happened,” she said. “Anyway, my ex suggested that I move to Arizona so that I can sort of get reacquainted with my daughter.”
“Great idea. Any chance there’s more to it than that?”
A shadow passed across Tyler’s face. “No, not the way you’re thinking,” she said. “He…he remarried and has two more children. He’s just being kind—he was always kind—and said he wants our daughter to get to know me.”
“So are you going?”
Tyler bit her lip and nodded. “I bought a one-way ticket to Tucson yesterday,” she said. “I’m pretty nervous. But I don’t have anything keeping me here, and I don’t want to go live with my parents in Iowa.” She laughed. “Then I really would go crazy. I leave in the morning so this is good-bye, Mr. Karp.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you.”
As Liz Tyler walked out the door, Marlene came in. The two women stopped, exchanged a few words and hugged. Then Liz was gone.
Those who hadn’t attended her mother’s funeral walked over to Marlene and expressed their condolences. Karp was glad to see her smile, even if she still looked a little weepy. It seemed she’d been crying since her mother’s death.
There was something bothering her about her mother’s death but when he asked about it, all she’d say was, “I’m not ready to talk about it.” So he left it alone and didn’t complain about the time she was spending across the street in her art studio. In fact, he enjoyed looking out the window and watching her as she painted. Sometimes she’d look over and wave. And just the day before, she’d flashed him her tits and laughed at his shocked expression.
Marlene broke away from the others and walked over to give him a kiss on the lips. “I saw you making out with that other woman,” she said.
Her sense of humor is returning…a good sign, Karp thought. “You’re mistaken; she kissed me in a moment of vulnerability. My lips are yours and yours alone.”
“You’ll keep it that way if you know what’s good for you,” Marlene said.
Just then his private line rang. They both looked at the telephone for a moment, neither wanting to answer it. Most everybody who had the number was already in the room, except for the kids and Clay Fulton, who was riding shotgun on the police escort transporting Andrew Kane to the upstate psychiatric hospital for his evaluations.
“I’ll get it,” Marlene said finally. “It’s probably the boys wanting to spend the night with a friend or placing a dinner order.”
She leaned over the desk and picked up the receiver. “Butch Karp’s office,” she said in her sexiest receptionist voice.
A moment later, her face turned ashen and her hand went to her stomach as if she was going to be sick. The other conversations in the room drifted to a stop as everyone turned to her. She looked up at Butch, and he knew that lightning was about to strike again.
“Marlene?” Oh, God, now what? he wondered. One of the kids? Her father? “That was Helen Fulton,” she said as she started to cry.
“Andrew Kane’s escaped. Some people are dead, and Clay’s been shot. He’s in the hospital, and it doesn’t look good.”
ALSO BY ROBERT K. TANENBAUM
FICTION
Hoax
Resolved
Absolute Rage
Enemy Within
True Justice
Act of Revenge
Reckless Endangerment
Irresistible Impulse
Falsely Accused
Corruption of Blood
Justice Denied
Material Witness
Reversible Error
Immoral Certainty
Depraved Indifference
No Lesser Plea
NONFICTION
The Piano Teacher:
The True Story of a Psychotic Killer
Badge of the Assassin
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2005 by Robert K. Tanenbaum
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information address Atria Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Tanenbaum, Robert.
Fury / Robert K. Tanenbaum.
p. c
m.
ISBN-10: 1-4165-1054-0
ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-1054-3
1. Karp, Butch (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Ciampi, Marlene (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 3. Brighton Beach (N.J.)—Fiction. 4. Public prosecutors—Fiction. 5. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 6. Trials (Rape)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3570.A52F87 2005
813’.54—dc22 2005041001
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FURY
FURY
Fury (The Butch Karp and Marlene Ciampi Series Book 17) Page 52