by Jacob Ganani
He retreated to his car, all the while wondering again about the timing of the man’s arrival. Was it just a coincidence, or was it betrayal?
Cantor didn’t believe in coincidences.
CHAPTER 41
On his way back, Cantor passed through Forensics. He had to establish an alibi for his time away from the department. He asked the technician on duty if there was anything new regarding the guns used to murder Isaac Sexta and Pini Levy. The lab had encouraging results. The bullets recovered from both scenes had been examined and the results were conclusive. Not only was the weapon in both shootings a .38 caliber pistol, but - and this was the icing on the cake – all the bullets were fired from the same weapon. Cantor wondered if his luck had returned. The same gun most likely indicated the same killer - an important clue to help him solve this still obscure puzzle.
He returned to the department, expecting to hear about a policeman attacked in his home. No such report had come in. The man he had recently neutralized was foreseeably absent from his desk, but the business-as-usual atmosphere indicated that he had not reported the incident. Perhaps he was reluctant to admit that he had been a victim of a crime? Or, maybe, he had something to hide? At this stage, no intent could be ruled out.
The one thing Cantor was sure of was that he had to return to that parking lot as soon as possible to find his missing piece of evidence.
CHAPTER 42
Cantor’s second chance came soon enough. Two hours later, his victim returned to the department without anything in his appearance or actions betraying his recent blow to the neck. Cantor was satisfied with the fact that he still possessed the surgical proficiency to cause targeted damage that was no more than a passing unpleasantness. A staff meeting that he was not required to attend was about to start, and allowed him at least an hour to continue his search of that underground parking lot.
As the participants entered the conference room, Cantor left the department and drove back to the policeman’s building. This time, about ten cars were parked in their allocated slots, which may have indicated tenants who preferred to eat lunch at home. First, as a lesson learned from his previous visit, Cantor opened the steel door leading to the stairs and left it ajar. This way, he could slip away quickly if necessary. He began a thorough examination that began with the row of cars at the eastern wall. He intended to inspect the entire parking lot, since a sliver of the button could have been hurled quite a distance. Under the strong beam of his flashlight, he searched under the cars and then examined the drainage channel that ran along the back wall. He walked slowly through the entire row adjoining the policeman’s parking spot, but found nothing. By the time he reached the end of the row, he could no longer avoid the thought that Haddad was right and there was nothing to find simply because nothing had happened here... but then he consoled himself with the fact that ruling out a potential suspect was a legitimate and even necessary part of any investigation. Determined to perform a thorough scan, he crossed over to the next row of cars and began a new search from the far wall. Advancing slowly, his eyes fixed on the beam of the flashlight, he stopped abruptly and stretched out his arm as far as he could.
No, he wasn’t wrong! The bright white light of his flashlight reflected a yellow glimmer from the drain.
Cantor took a couple of deep breaths to settle his rapidly-beating heart. He positioned the flashlight on the hood of a nearby car and pointed its beam at the object in the drain. He then took three close-up photos. He pulled out a latex glove from his pocket and put it on his right hand. He knelt down, reached out his hand and closed his fingers on the gleaming object. He pulled it out and placed it in an evidence bag. He then rose to his feet and took a deep breath.
Here goes nothing, he thought. He raised his hand to eye level and peered at the object resting in the plastic bag as it sent him a friendly, wink-like, yellow twinkle.
“Our long-lost half button…” Cantor’s lips uttered almost soundlessly.
He spread out the bag on the hood of the car and took three more pictures, then stepped back and took a photo of the bag with the parking lot in the background, making sure to include a few of the license numbers marked on the wall. He quickly scrolled through the photos to make sure they were all saved.
“I’m out of here,” he said to himself.
Finally a breakthrough.
Except for one small hitch he just couldn’t ignore. The evidence could have been planted. This could all be a set-up.
***
Cantor, anxious for conclusive results, entered the lab for the second time that day, prompting Basil, the senior technician on duty, to raise his eyebrows in some surprise. Cantor placed the two evidence bags in front of him and explained what he needed. He insisted on waiting until the results were ready. Basil, who could recognize when matters were truly urgent, took the bags into the next room, not before warning Cantor not to drain his private stash of coffee while he was busting his ass for him.
Cantor waited for more than two hours, busying himself by making calls regarding neglected personal matters and leafing through old newspapers and magazines stacked near the coffee maker. All the while, he tried not to distract Basil or hurry him along.
Finally, Basil - or Doctor Basil, as he preferred to be called - returned. He tossed a large envelope on the table. The loud thump as it hit the table indicated that it was heavy with documents. Cantor gave him a questioning look.
“Enjoying our coffee, Oded?” Basil asked cynically as he glanced toward the half-empty coffee jar.
Cantor shook his head and replied in the same tone. “I’d give it a C minus considering the toxic environment you have here...” He hinted at the pungent, chemical odor in the air.
“So. I believe you’re going to enjoy this even more.” Basil slumped in a chair that creaked under his weight, a sign of the abuse its springs had undergone over the years. He reached for the envelope and pulled out its contents. In addition to the set of documents, Cantor also noticed several black and white photographs.
“You’ve hit the jackpot twice,” Basil grinned.
Cantor swallowed hard. “So that’s the missing button from the shirt?”
“That’s the button.”
“Any chance of error?”
“Zero, according to my microscope.” Basil picked up a photograph and turned it around so Cantor could have a look. “On the right is the half button I obtained from the shirt, and on the left is the fragment you brought in. Even without magnification, you can see that it’s an exact fit from the top edge half way down. Also, the spectrometer has determined that both parts are made of exactly the same material.”
“Meaning they’re made from the same raw material?”
“Not exactly.” Basil gave him a patient look reserved for the ignorant, but withheld judgment; he was used to such questions. “It’s a molecular sensor that detects that these two pieces were once part of one specific whole button.”
“Okay, I got it,” Cantor said quietly. “And the stain on the floor?”
Basil rummaged through the papers until he found what he was looking for.
“That’s what kept you waiting so long. It was much harder, since whoever cleaned it up knows something about lab tests. Luckily, he left us something.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that, under the cleaning fluid, we found specks of blood. I’ll even say with certainty that it’s human blood.”
“So there’s no chance it’s the blood of a rodent or a bird?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Can you link this blood to a specific body?”
Basil picked up a pencil from the table and scratched behind his ear. “That, we can’t do. Those properties have been completely destroyed. Sorry.”
Cantor considered what he’d heard. Even a lucky streak had its limit. He looked at Basil, and, for the first time, he smiled.
“Anything else?”
“Not really, but you’re looki
ng at a very satisfied customer right now...” Cantor stood up as Basil gathered the documents back into the envelope.
“I also prepared a short summary. It’s on the first page,” Basil said, handing the envelope to Cantor.
“What would we do without you?” Cantor said gratefully. “One more thing. These results? Keep them confidential for now, okay? No exceptions. It’s imperative.”
“So you weren’t here today?”
“No, no, of course I was here, and you should log that in. Remember the ballistic results from the .38? Let’s say I came in with some more questions about those.”
“Got it. Just hope I won’t have to carry this secret to my grave,” Basil joked.
“No, Doctor, you definitely won’t. And don’t worry, when the time comes I’ll personally give you all the credit you deserve. As if you don’t get enough... okay? Bye, and thank you!”
As he left, he hurried to call Haddad, who answered with tension in his voice.
“Tell me something good, Cantor.”
“I’ve got something. I have evidence.”
“You have it with you?”
“In my hand.”
“Meet me at Anna’s and we'll talk there. Don’t bring it into the office.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Bye.”
CHAPTER 43
Cantor and Haddad stepped into Café Anna and chose a corner table away from curious ears. Cantor was relieved to discover Tova wasn’t on shift. He still hadn’t forgiven himself for hurting her feelings.
“You’ve been busy, huh, Cantor?” Haddad began. “I heard you spent the entire morning coming and going.”
“That’s right.”
“If I had to guess, I’d say you went to his house.”
“Yes, but just the parking garage.”
“And?”
The waiter arrived and placed two cups of coffee on the table. Cantor stayed silent until the waiter had gone away, and then took out the envelope Basil had given him. He laid out the contents on the table. Haddad was the expert on evidence and, more importantly, the kind of evidence that the D.A. would accept. Haddad, who refrained once again from expressing his full confidence in the policeman’s innocence, examined every document and photo carefully. While waiting for his verdict, Cantor sipped his coffee as his thoughts wandered to Daphne.
Just this morning, they’d managed to quarrel again. Daphne had repeated her usual sense of feeling neglected and then an argument ensued and spiraled out of control. She cried that she was fed up with his affair with the police, that she’d had enough of waiting for him every night only to have him come home dead tired and longing to sleep, that she felt they were growing apart, that she was tired of fighting, and was too indifferent to care anymore. Bottom line, she felt they’d reached the final stages of their relationship.
He’d tried to respond, to explain, but within minutes he was seized by the despair of a man who had stopped believing that his words could make any difference. He blamed himself for repeating his past mistakes over and over again and going through the same painful anguish every time. Suddenly, he no longer had the energy to try and persuade her, so he’d sat down on the sofa in silence, retreating into himself. She gave him a cold, distant look before grabbing her purse and running out, slamming the door behind her.
Haddad interrupted his reverie as he replaced the last document in the pile and reached for his coffee. Cantor gazed at him questioningly.
“You’ve compiled some good evidence.”
“It is good, isn’t it?” Cantor asked, but he didn’t like the look in Haddad’s eyes. “Do we have a case against him, or don’t we? Because I’m not sure.”
“We don’t.” Haddad calmly took a long sip from his coffee. “Mm, the best coffee in town...” he sighed.
“Can you please elaborate?” he demanded.
“Listen, this could point to where Isaac Sexta was murdered. I even believe Gilboa would admit the connection between the button and the bloodstains, of course qualifying the fact that we couldn’t link the blood to the body. Circumstantial, but still reasonable. But who’s the murderer? Do we know? We don’t! You want reasonable doubt? Someone’s trying to incriminate a police officer. They murdered Sexta in this specific parking garage to pin this on him. And why did we - I’m sorry, you - even search there? Because Ezra Sexta, the mobster, wrote this officer’s name on a note… okay? Long story short, this is what it looks like when you concoct a theory to fit your order. Surely you can understand that several more theories could easily fit these findings.”
Haddad paused, letting Cantor reflect upon his words.
“So what you’re saying is that the entire scene was staged. But you know what bothers me the most? What I can’t understand in this whole story? Where does the attempt on my life fit in to all this? Is there even a connection?!”
“I’m not convinced there’s a connection, either,” Haddad agreed. “Let’s leave that for now.”
“Okay. But let’s assume for a moment that it is him. How do we get him? Is there anything we can do?” Cantor was frustrated.
“What could work, if at all, is a sting operation.”
“A sting? What kind of sting?
“A sting that would require us to cooperate with Sexta... a form of ‘divide and conquer.’”
“Explain.”
“Step one: we let him know exactly where his brother was murdered.”
“You’re willing to share that information with him?”
“Only because it serves our interest. Then we ask a favor.”
“From Sexta?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Look, let’s start from our goal. Suppose Sexta isn’t pulling a fast one and gave us the name of the real traitor. Not that I think it’s true, but let’s just suppose. Okay? Then our best move is to catch him in the act. Right? And let’s say that traitor’s also Isaac’s killer. So now it becomes something that Ezra would find interesting... and all we need to do is connect the pieces into a nice little trap.”
“I don’t know… it sounds complicated. But go on,” Cantor said doubtfully.
And Haddad detailed his plan.
Cantor thought it was beautiful in theory, but wouldn’t succeed in practice. “Albert, if I understand you correctly, if he’s really the traitor, you’re counting on the fact that he’ll try to eliminate anyone who might incriminate him -”
“Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it, if he’s the traitor and he’s killed before?
“I don’t know... there are too many ‘ifs.’ If I’ve learned anything, it’s that when a plan’s too complicated, it usually fails. With this one, you’re talking about a very narrow kill zone and a fifty/fifty chance of failure. Which means that both you and the bait -”
“Could get hit?”
“There’s a high probability, yes. He’ll be less than three feet away from you.”
“Oded, I’m counting on that impressive resume you showed me when you joined the force, the top-secret section… the one that says you have the skills to watch my back in every situation.” Haddad winked at him and smiled.
Cantor gave him a long look and said quietly, “Let’s just say that three of me would greatly increase the odds. But alone - fifty/fifty.”
“And what about me? I’ll be there too. Isn’t that worth a few percentiles?”
“Don’t get carried away. Chances are you’ll just get in my way.”
“Obviously. So we’re going for it?”
Cantor kept silent for a long moment.
“Why hesitate? Tell me what you’re thinking,” Haddad urged.
“You really want to know? So I’ll just say it. I’m asking myself if it isn’t about time I shared this information with Azar.”
Haddad scoffed dismissively, “About time? The time’s long since passed, don’t you think? Besides, I’ve told you before, there are no secrets around here, right? The smallest leak and everything’s los
t! Also, there’s no way we’d get this sting authorized. We either deal with this till the end on our own, or we don’t. But if you’re worried, then let’s forget the whole thing.”
“Actually, I just wanted to make sure you understand that if any of this ever gets out, we’re both finished.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
Cantor leaned forward and patted Haddad on the shoulder. “I’m in. Let’s go for it!”
Haddad looked pleased. “One more thing. Remember when we were at the crime scene, Dr. Levin said he had a theory about how Sexta was shot? Did you get a chance to talk with him?”
“Not yet. Let’s call him now.”
The secretary at Pathology answered the phone.
“Dr. Levin, please. This is Detective Cantor speaking.”
“Just a moment.” He heard a muffled conversation in the background.
“Hold for the doctor, please.”
“Thanks.”
“This is Dr. Levin. How can I help you?”
“Hello, Doctor. This is Detective Oded Cantor, together with Detective Haddad. We’re calling regarding Isaac Sexta’s body. I understand you have a theory about the murder.”
The line was quiet as the M.E. chose his words carefully. “I’ll submit my report tomorrow, and I don’t usually comment before the report’s released. Is this urgent?”
“It’s very important for the ongoing investigation, as we’ve had some new developments.”
“I understand.” Cantor wondered if he really did understand. “Do you remember the expression on the face of the deceased?”
“Yes. Surprise, maybe fear. We spoke about that,” Cantor said impatiently.
“I believe I know why he had that expression.”