One Deadly Sister

by Rod Hoisington

  “But Linda, in a few days he’ll realize nothing new is coming out in the paper and he’d simply lock Raymond back up.”

  “Wouldn’t he be embarrassed trying to explain why he let him out?”

  “That’s true, and this gives Kagan another shot to go before the judge and maintain there was insufficient evidence to deny bail considering the new disclosures. It’s at least a chance to get Raymond out and it might work. I won’t tell Kagan what we’re doing, so he’ll innocently continue acting as though we do have an advantage. If Moran falls for the bluff, he might negotiate. Linda, you just fell on your sword for me. Do you understand Moran is going to crucify you for lying regardless of how this turns out? Why did you do that?”

  “Sugar, you know why.”

  Chapter 30

  By the time Sandy reached the courthouse, the town was full of heavy rain. Park Beach is usually calm and quiet after the church traffic clears. That Sunday it was wet and miserable. The thunder and lightning might come later at her first meeting with Moran. Sandy parked in the police parking lot as usual and hurried across the boulevard to the courthouse, dodging puddles and holding her notebook over her head.

  The courthouse appeared closed but as she walked up the splendid steps, a sheriff’s deputy opened the huge door for her. She was expected.

  “I’m soaked, any paper towels around?” He produced a roll. “Thanks, I didn’t come to Florida to catch cold.”

  “Why didn’t you use the covered parking next to this building?”

  “Now you tell me. It’s going to be one of those days.”

  He scanned her with a handheld detector and directed her to the third floor offices of the state attorney. She crossed the spacious atrium to the elevators. The only break in the cold silence was the echo of the click of her shoes. The building air conditioning must have been set to cool a large weekday crowd. At that moment, she was not only damp but also surrounded by bone-chilling marble.

  She found Moran’s office on the third floor next to the conference room and opened the door. She didn’t see him but heard him call out, “Just take a seat in the conference room, Miss Reid.”

  She assumed he wanted this meeting to scare her off. That fit Chip’s description of him as a bully. Yet, if he’s at all rational, there should be some room to negotiate for bail. She needed to show him what he was up against. Show him that continuing with Raymond was not going to work. She would ask that he drop all charges and hope they could at least agree on release on bail. She must come away with a compromise, and do it before he learns the newspaper won’t be printing anything unfavorable.

  She sat at the side of the long conference table, rubbing her arms for warmth, and wishing she had brought a sweater. She waited. After twenty minutes, she assumed he was either playing a power game making her wait or he had discovered the truth. Maybe he was on the phone being told Linda had lied to him and the sky wasn’t falling.

  At two p.m., one hour after the scheduled time, Moran entered. Without an apology or even looking at her he settled in opposite. He placed a stack of official-looking papers on his left side, a recorder on the other, and a yellow legal pad in front. Taking his time and not yet acknowledging her, he casually flipped back and forth among the top papers that appeared covered with notes.

  “You came all by yourself.” He still hadn’t looked up. “I thought Kagan would be with you.”

  She stood and slowly pulled her chair away from the table. She walked over and exchanged her chair for one from the end of the table.

  “What are you doing? Sit down. Leave the chairs alone.”

  “I noticed your chair is much higher than mine.”

  He clicked a button on his recorder. “All right, let’s begin. Good afternoon, Miss Reid.”

  She put her handbag on the table beside her, took out her phone, and another small device. She moved them around a bit, played with some buttons, and then announced, “Okay, I’m ready.”

  He was grim. “Now what are you doing?”

  “I’m recording our conversation.”

  “This is the official recorder.”

  “That’s fine. Yours is the official one. Mine is nothing special.”

  “Turn off that recorder. It’s not permitted. You don’t record anything. Do you know to whom you’re speaking? Do you realize I have the full legal and prosecutorial power of the entire state of Florida behind me?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s better. Now, do you know why I ordered you here?”

  “I’m not certain, Mr. Moran. My hope was we could discuss some compromise regarding bail for my brother.”

  He clinched both fists. “Wrong!”

  She took his defensive attitude to mean he was still afraid of what the newspaper would print. That was good. If he was just going to play the harassment game, then she saw no point in trying to reason with him. One thing she had learned was you must stand up to a bully. “Then I guess I’m here because your case is falling apart.”

  He came up out of his chair, pointed his finger at her, and commanded, “Turn off that recorder!” She didn’t move. Her expression was emotionless. He reached down and punched off his recorder. In a sudden movement, he reached across the table, grabbed her small device, and threw it hard against the wall. It shattered and fell to the floor. “That’s what you can do with your nothing-special fucking recorder!” He sat back down. “Let me see your cell. Does it record?”

  She pushed her phone across the table to him. “Take a look, just a plain-Jane phone, no photos, no tunes, no Internet.”

  He inspected the phone carefully and slid it back across the table to her. “Now let me see your purse.”

  “My purse is private property. You’ve no right to search it—fourth amendment.”

  “Give me your goddamn purse!”

  She handed it across. He crudely turned it upside down and shook it, spilling everything hard out on the table. He shuffled through it. He pushed the mess back across the table, took a deep breath, and nodded okay. He clicked his recorder to rewind and then restarted. “Good afternoon, Miss Reid. Thank you for coming. Shall we begin?”

  “You just smashed my recorder against the wall!”

  He turned his head down to speak into his recorder. “What on earth are you talking about, Miss Reid? You’re certainly welcome to record this if you’d like, but I’ve never seen your recorder.”

  “You just stood up, reached across, grabbed my recorder from the table in front of me, and threw it against the wall. That loud noise was the sound of my recorder hitting the wall. You used obscene language. Then you dumped the contents of my handbag harshly out onto the table.”

  Moran’s head tilted slightly and he stared at her with narrowed eyes, wondering about what she just said. Then he continued, “We’ve prepared evidence here that details your interference in a homicide investigation. To start with, there’s the matter of your crude attempt to entrap and discredit a fine officer such as Sergeant Huress, but I’m willing to let that go. The more serious violation is that you’re interfering with the police and providing misleading and possibly illegal information to the newspaper. He rested one hand on the stack of papers. “These papers will be part of the official record. Reluctantly, I find that as a legal officer of the State of Florida, it’s my duty to present this evidence to the judge and bring charges against you.”

  “I hate to put you to all that bother.”

  He raised his voice, “And I hate to say you’re in a great deal of trouble. I’m afraid the penalties are quite severe.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” She knew negotiating with this jerk would be impossible as long as he was playing his bully game. “That stack of papers there is a phony prop. Wouldn’t it be more effective if we worked together on this rather than playing silly power games?”

  “You won’t think they’re so silly when you’re standing looking out between bars.”

  “You’re right, I won’t. But jail won’t shut me u
p either.”

  “It might be possible for me to overlook some of these charges, but you’d have to retract a few things, that is, correct the record.”

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  He grabbed up one of the top folders, reached across the table and shook it in her face. In a loud voice, “I want you to butt out and cease running around conducting your own damn investigation and giving information to the newspaper.”

  She smiled. “No, seriously, what do you want me to do?”

  That was enough, more than enough. He jumped up and quickly marched around the table to where she sat. She started to stand, but he put his hand firmly on her shoulder and pushed her back down. “Just sit right there. You don’t seem to realize whose ass is in the hot seat. Now you listen to me. You’re going back to that newspaper and tell them you made up the whole bunch of bullshit.”

  “Mr. Moran, you just got up and walked around to my side of the table. That’s why your voice got louder. Then you touched me forcefully with your hand on my shoulder while you cursed at me.”

  “Why do you keeping talking in a loud voice like that? You’re not even paying attention to what I’m saying.”

  She pushed his hand hard from her shoulder. “Now do what I tell you and everything will be just fine. Walk back around the table and sit back down. I want to explain something.”

  He was incensed. “I don’t know what you’re up to you little smartass but….”

  “No, no, no. Save all the expletives. Now go sit down.”

  She returned his stare. Then he stomped furiously back to his chair and stood breathing heavily with his arms folded across his chest.

  She said, “Everything you’ve said the last few minutes was recorded.”

  He looked at his recorder. “I can erase the tape. You’ll never get it.”

  “No, not your recorder, my cell. It’s been on the entire time. A phone at the other end is receiving my call, and has a recorder attached to it. I’ve recorded everything you’ve said to me from the start. A homicide detective in Philadelphia taught me that trick.”

  He looked surprised but recovered quickly. “To start with, I checked your phone and it was off. Even so, it would be illegal! You can’t record a phone conversation in Florida without the permission of all parties. It has no value whatever.”

  “But I didn’t record a phone conversation. I recorded you in this room, face to face.”

  “Well, finally I meet you and it turns out you’re not the smart gal everyone thinks you are. Do you know what you’ve just done? You’ve secretly recorded a Florida state attorney! Even the FBI can’t take such an audacious action without a warrant from a judge. You just outsmarted yourself. I now have immediate grounds for your arrest. Something I’ve been wishing for since you arrived in town. Thank you very much, Miss Reid. I believe we’re about through here.”

  She just looked peacefully at him.

  “So it’s a stupid trick you tried to pull, and it backfired.” He looked over at her phone, then at her and back to the phone. “Maybe you’re bluffing and didn’t record anything.”

  She said nothing.

  “Let say you actually did, and I don’t think for a moment that you did. Just hypothetically speaking, what would you do with it?”

  “Well, you can’t charge me with secretly recording without entering the recording as evidence. So, we’ll let a jury listen to it. Remember, all of this is still being recorded—all the damns, smartasses, and dumb bitches. You’d need to explain your unprofessional behavior in a court of law and you’d fall flat on your hypothetical ass.”

  The blood faded from his face, and he sank into his chair. In a weak voice he muttered, “I was wrought up. You got me agitated, that’s all. I’m not normally like this.” Then he leaned toward her. “Wait a minute. I see it all now, this is a trick.”

  “You’re right. I was bluffing. I didn’t record a thing.”

  He appeared relieved. “Ah, I thought so. I knew you didn’t.”

  She continued with a look of amusement.

  “I don’t like that smirk on your face. You did record it.”

  “Now listen up,” she said. “If you persist in taking this confused mess you call a case to trial, we’re going to challenge the arrest. We’re going to challenge the custody without bond and the constitutionality of his detention. We’re going to challenge the inadequate control of the crime scene. All of the evidence you’ve gathered there will be thrown out—all of it. All of your circumstantial crap—thrown out.

  “We’re going to challenge the validity and accuracy of every little piece of your so-called evidence. And we’ll find an expert to match every one of your experts. We’re going to make you sweat over every syllable you utter until the jury wonders what the hell you’re doing in a courtroom. In case you’ve missed my point, you have nothing and you’re going to lose, Moran.

  “I suggest you call Jerry Kagan immediately and start negotiations for my brother’s release. You should drop the charges before the paper starts asking why you arrested him in the first place.”

  She gathered her handbag contents from the table and walked to the door. She turned. “Oh, and don’t worry about replacing that old pocket radio you just smashed against the wall. It fell out of Raymond’s stupid glove compartment, it didn’t work anyway.”

  He sat there staring at the door for a moment after she left and then slowly walked back to his office. He’d get back at the bitch. His best bargaining chip now was the power to permit bail. He was not going to drop the charges. Maybe she could bring enough pressure to force him to let her brother out on bail, but he’d still be under arrest. Furthermore, the price would be very high and part of the price would be she must leave town without saying anything further. If she wants him out then that’s the price. With her out of the way, tying the ribbons on this case against Reid would be easy.

  He called Jerry Kagan and told him the state would consider bail if Reid’s sister agrees to pack up and go back to Philadelphia, no more playing detective, no more talking to the media. Kagan was pleasantly surprised. He’d call Moran back first thing in the morning after consulting with his client.

  If Reid agreed, then Moran would see the judge and tell him the state was willing to go along with a motion for pretrial release.

  Moran knew that everything must be in place before those damn articles started running in the newspaper.

  Chapter 31

  Ray found it difficult to believe events could happen so fast. Sandy was with him in the visiting room, and he was talking to Kagan on her phone.

  Kagan was saying, “Not a done deal but it looks good. They want you out so Sandy will shut up and leave town. For the first time they’re talking bail. Nevertheless, they’ve set it high—a half million. You'd need to put up ten-percent, cash, or collateral. Do you own any real estate? Can you pledge $50,000?”

  “No way. I have some securities worth that much, my life savings. But if I borrowed against it, I wouldn’t get the full amount.”

  “Part of the deal is you put a muzzle on your sister. She leaves town and they never hear about her again. That’s a big concession for them considering you’re still the only suspect they have. You’d be free.”

  Ray was holding the phone so Sandy could hear. “Free from custody, but still under arrest,” she said, “and they want me to stop helping you. I’d love to have you out, Raymond, but I don’t like the offer.”

  “Okay, I understand and I don’t have the $50,000 anyway.”

  Into the phone she said, “Perhaps there’s room to negotiate. Moran’s shabby conference room get-together with me didn’t go well for him. He was shaking when I left. In fact, this might all be a bluff.”

  “Don’t overplay your hand,” Kagan warned. “Don’t try and go for complete dismissal of all charges or something crazy. If you’ve got a state attorney talking bail you’d better grab it.”

  “Sandy, I wasn’t going to tell you this, I’m not doing
very well behind bars.”

  “No kidding. I’ve watched you deteriorate, you look like a train wreck.”

  “It’s more than that. Sometimes I sit on the edge of the bed for an hour like my brain switches off. Other times, I believe I’m starting to suffocate. Take any offer to get me out of custody, and so you can go home. I know you’re clever and he’s no match for you, but just get me into the open spaces.”

  She looked at her pale brother rubbing his cuffed hands—her innocent brother. A nervous tic on his right eyelid was fluttering like a trapped bird. She could just accept Moran’s offer and her brother would be relieved of all of this. Was there anything more important?

  “I don’t know how you handle stress as you do. You’re so bold and self-assured,” he said.

  “I got that from you.”

  “From me?”

  “Yes, from watching my big brother as we were growing up.”

  “If that was ever true, then I lost it along the way.”

  Kagan was yelling into the phone, “They’re waiting for our answer!”

  “I don’t like the deal if I have to leave town, Jerry. Let them sweat another minute,” she said into the phone. “Raymond, do you remember that day you said you were going to drive down to the shore? I was eleven. I asked if I could go along and your answer floated down to me from the sky. You said okay. I couldn’t believe it. Just the two of us, me and my big brother driving down the Atlantic City Expressway. I remember every mile.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember that day.”

  Kagan yelled, “Hey, are you guys there?”

  “You let me pick out the spot on the beach, Raymond. You told me not to go out too far and threw me a towel when I came back, stuff like that. Oh God, I loved that day. You gave me money and I walked over by myself to get sodas, I knew you liked Pepsi. We sat sipping our drinks as if on a date. I remember exactly where I was when you called me ‘Sis’ and said I was pretty. That was the happiest day of my life.”