by Ray Flynt
Officially ignored, Nick returned to his seat between Brad and Sharon.
Brad whispered, “Who’s the suit?’
“Craig Radnor. He’s an assistant general counsel.”
It was clear to Brad that Franks didn’t want to speak with Nick without a lawyer present. Having an attorney in the room wouldn’t be a game changer, and he might be able to use it to his advantage.
The door to Franks’ office opened. Out strode a tall man with an arresting physique, round head, and graying, medium-length Afro.
“Nick,” Franks boomed, “come on in. I look forward to meeting your friends.” Turning to Yolanda, he said, “If Tighe stops by, tell him we’ll have to get together later.”
Three chairs were arrayed directly in front of Franks’ desk. Craig Radnor sat to the side of the desk. On closer inspection of Mr. Radnor, “wet behind the ears” edged into Brad’s mind, along with the fear that, as he neared fifty, he was turning into his father. Joe Frame regularly had used that phrase.
Nick spotted a glass bowl on the edge of the desk and fished until he came up with a cellophane-wrapped candy. “A jellied nougat,” he proclaimed, beaming.
“Denisa keeps me supplied,” Franks said.
“Yes, well,” Nick muttered, winked at Brad, and didn’t clue Franks into the inside joke.
With introductions out of the way, Franks said, “I understand you want to tell me exactly what transpired between you and Donald Sanders?”
“I already did,” Nick began, “but apparently you didn’t believe me, or I wouldn’t be under suspension.”
Franks smiled. “I never said I didn’t believe you. You know as well as I do that we have a process. You were suspended with pay, so I hope you’ve been able to relax and enjoy your time off.”
“Hard to relax with my career on the line.” Nick pointed at Brad. “He’s been talking with Phil, the ex-cop who owns Ruddigore’s. And Brad posted a flyer in their restrooms for information about the September third incident.”
Curtis Franks’ gaze shifted, which gave Brad an opening. “I heard from a woman who was there that evening. Her name is Eleanor Ferguson, but she goes by Ellie. She lives in Paoli and works in the NICU at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. I met with her this morning, and Ellie’s version of events matches what Nick has told me and you.”
Franks glanced at the lawyer. “Well, leave her name and contact information with Craig here. He’s serving as counsel for the Internal Affairs team that is reviewing the assault charges. They can contact her and receive her statement.”
“That’s always a possibility,” Brad said. “But in addition to what she told me, she captured a video of the incident.”
“Deliver the video to Internal Affairs as well.” Franks said a little too quickly, and Brad suspected he might be acting under instructions the attorney had given him during their prior private meeting.
Nick seemed about to speak, but Brad tapped his arm.
“Nick tells me you’re a fair man, Commissioner.” It never hurt to raise expectations and allow others to rise to the occasion. “He wants his job back. When you look at the video, you’ll realize not only are the accusations against him groundless, but the officers who made those complaints were deliberately setting Nick up for his unwarranted suspension.”
Franks stroked his chin. “Send me this video you have. If what you say is true, I’ll consider reinstatement.”
The lawyer, reminding Brad of a bobblehead, nodded.
Brad didn’t think they had anticipated what happened next. He handed Franks a slip of paper on which he’d written the URL of a Dropbox account. Pointing at Franks’ computer, Brad said, “If you pull up this Internet site, you’ll see the video.”
Franks hesitated, but after another peek toward and nod back from Craig Radnor, he slid his keyboard in front of him and typed.
Seconds later, Brad heard the sound from the video Ellie had recorded.
The deputy commissioner angled his screen so the lawyer could also see.
Brad had shown the clip to Nick in the parking lot when they’d first arrived. Nick’s immediate reactions included, “I told you,” and “Exactly like I said.” In the forty minutes since then, Brad had watched the weight lift from Nick’s shoulders. He stood taller and walked with a jauntier gate. Even his amusing quest for jellied nougats heralded he was about to get his life back.
As the sounds of that night at Ruddigore’s filled the office, Nick sat confidently with his arms across his chest.
Brad would have liked to have stood behind Franks’ desk so he could watch the image on a larger screen. But he felt the film clearly demonstrated Nick’s innocence, and he didn’t want to make Curtis feel pressured by standing too close. Nevertheless, it was amazing to watch both their faces as they stared at the screen. The experienced cop took it all in with barely a furrowed brow while the young attorney gazed wide-eyed as the screen depicted a different story than they’d heard from the accusers.
When Barkow’s voice cried out, “Look what you did,” Brad knew the video was wrapping up.
Franks peered over the computer screen at Nick. “Was that Elverson rushing in at the end?”
“Yes.”
Franks turned to Craig Radnor, “Was Alejandro Elverson’s name on the witness list in this case?”
The attorney pushed his wire rims back on his nose and consulted a folder in front of him before shaking his head.
The sound had only stopped for a few seconds when Nick blurted, “Do I get my job back?”
A long pause ensued, during which Franks and Radnor exchanged whispers.
“Excuse us for a minute,” Franks said, then he and the attorney exited the office, closing the door behind them.
“What’s that all about?” Sharon asked.
“Bureaucracy,” Brad and Nick replied, nearly in unison.
“They have to figure out how to deal with the accusers.” Brad pulled out his phone and composed a brief text message to Ken Matheson: Important. Call Curtis Franks’ office in five minutes.
Curtis Franks looked grave as he came through the door followed by Radnor. He approached Nick, put his hand on his shoulder, and said, “We’re concerned about the timing of your reinstatement. Especially since, after viewing the video, Sanders and Barkow have a lot to answer for their actions and the false accusations. To bring you back might tip them off, and we’re looking after your best interests.”
Nick looked offended. “As Judge Judy says, ‘Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining.’”
Sharon laughed.
Brad spoke. “We’re very glad you’re looking out for Nick’s best interests. But who was looking out for them over the weekend when word leaked to the newspaper of his suspension for ‘assaulting a fellow officer’? He saved the life of a young woman while everyone stood around on the train platform and watched. After all that, an unnamed police spokesman labeled it as ‘disingenuous’ for Nick calling himself a cop. I don’t think anybody has had Nick’s back.”
Franks maintained his stern expression. The phone rang on the deputy commissioner’s desk, and he seemed more than anxious to take it.
“Yes, Yolanda,” Franks said after picking up. “Put him through.” He cleared his throat. “Hi, Ken. Yes, he’s sitting right here. Would you like to talk with him?”
Curtis Franks held out the phone receiver as he said to Brad, “It’s Ken Matheson for you.”
Brad realized he had about five steps in which to improvise a plan, and hoped Ken would play along with it.
“Hey, Ken, how are you?”
“Just calling in as you asked. What’s going on?”
“Right. I shared that video with Commissioner Franks, as you suggested.” Brad turned his back on Franks and Radnor and softened his voice as if trying to have a private conversation, but loud enough so he knew they could hear every word. “They don’t want to reinstate Nick. You might have to file that motion we discussed earlier.”
Brad heard Ken chuckling on the other end of the line.
“Uh-huh…right…sure,” Brad muttered till Ken was through.
Ken said, “You’re enjoying the hell out of yourself right now.”
“Absolutely. I completely agree.”
Ken said, “See if you can put this call on speakerphone?”
Brad turned and asked that question of Franks.
“Punch the button marked intercom then hang up the receiver.”
Brad did as requested. “I think we’re on speakerphone.”
“Good, can everyone hear me?”
“Yes,” Brad said. “Loud and clear. I’m here with Commissioner Franks, Nick and Sharon, and Craig Radnor, an attorney from the general counsel’s office.”
“Hi, Craig,” Ken Matheson began, “I think I know the others. To lay all our cards on the table, I represent Nick Argostino in the matter of his suspension. I’ve formally notified you, Curtis, as well as Internal Affairs. More importantly, I’ve seen the video that you gentlemen have been presented with this morning. I wish I could have been with you in person, but had appointments previously scheduled.
“Our position is that Captain Argostino be reinstated immediately since the evidence makes clear his suspension is unwarranted.”
So far, Brad thought, Ken was handling the situation beautifully, with a cordial but insistent tone.
“If you don’t want to deal with his reinstatement on an administrative basis, Judge Speir is hearing motions this morning and we’re prepared to ask the court to intervene. Brad sent me an electronic copy of the video, which I can include as evidence. Curtis, I’d like to remind you that once a motion is filed, it becomes a matter of public record. Newspapers send reporters there on a regular basis.” Matheson paused, and they heard a woman’s voice in the background. “I have an appointment waiting for me,” Matheson continued. “If I don’t hear otherwise from Brad in fifteen minutes, expect me to file that motion.”
Curtis looked troubled. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Matheson added, “I’d prefer it if this didn’t turn into the situation we encountered a couple of years ago with detective Allen.”
Curtis pursed his lips. “I agree.”
Dial tone filled the room. Matheson had disconnected the call.
Franks motioned for Radnor. “We’re going to step out again.”
After the door had closed behind them, Sharon said, “More waiting.”
“Nick, what do you know about the detective Allen he mentioned?” Brad asked.
Nick tugged at his mustache, and for the first time in twenty minutes a smile wrinkled his lips. “Not the department’s finest hour. Allen was suspended for misuse of department property, specifically, his police car. The bogus accusation came from a neighbor who, it turned out, had an ongoing property dispute with Allen and was also close friends with a captain and the deputy commissioner who preceded Franks. For their involvement in railroading Allen, the deputy was fired and the captain demoted.”
Brad figured the Allen case must have been how Matheson knew Curtis Franks.
Although they couldn’t make out the words, a heated conversation could be heard just outside the office door. Franks’ deeper voice carried farther than Radnor’s and seemed to dominate the conversation.
“Maybe I should put my ear to the door,” Sharon quipped.
At that moment, Franks re-entered the office, minus the attorney. He announced, “I’ve reached my decision.”
24
“Welcome back,” Franks said as he shook Nick’s hand. “I’m going to handle this in a very non-bureaucratic way. Show up at your office, act like the man in charge, and if anyone challenges your authority, have them call me.”
“We’ll make it work,” Nick assured him.
Franks moved to the chair behind his desk. “For the moment, I’ll reassign Sanders and Barkow to another supervisor.”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t supervise them.”
Franks looked puzzled. “Then what’s their motivation to set you up?”
“I’ve supervised both of them in the past, but it’s been more than a year.” Nick stood and handed Brad the keys to the Mercedes. “I’m ready to go back to work.”
“How will you get home?” Brad asked.
Nick grinned. “I think I’ll be getting my city-issued car back.”
“Great. I’ll catch up with you later.
Sharon gave Nick a hug.
After Nick’s departure, Brad said, “If you have a few more minutes, Commissioner, I have a theory I’d like to share. I hope you’ll bear with me.”
“It’s okay, I told Yolanda to hold my calls. Speaking of calls, get in touch with Ken Matheson and tell him we’re good.”
Sharon settled back into her chair.
Brad reached for his cell and texted a smiley face to Ken Matheson. He pantomimed moving his finger over the phone’s surface so Franks would think a much longer message was being sent. “We’re all set.”
Franks leaned back in his desk chair. “Let’s hear your ideas.”
“Do you know Phil Bertolini?”
Franks shook his head.
“Phil was once a cop but disabled due to a job-related injury. He received a settlement from the city and used those funds to buy Ruddigore’s.”
Franks indicated his recognition of the location where Nick had been accused of assault.
Brad summarized Phil’s experience with the bar and how he’d reached out to Saul Kasheski after financial losses.
“I remember Kasheski,” Franks said. “Didn’t he also get a massive payment from the city?”
“A concussion grenade exploded and he lost his hand.”
Franks gritted his teeth.
“After Kasheski acquired a sixty-percent share of Ruddigore’s, a couple of his buddies, including Sanders, Barkow, and a young cop named Axel Elverson started hanging out there. With their involvement, the bar drew a younger crowd—too young.”
Brad looked to Sharon, who picked up on the story. “I hung out at Ruddigore’s one night as we tried to see if we could find any witnesses to verify Nick’s story,” Sharon explained. “The first thing I noticed was the number of college-age patrons. I even had a conversation with Phil—he didn’t know I worked for Brad—about underage drinking.”
“I had a similar observation on two visits to Ruddigore’s. As Nick and I discussed the accusations, I kept trying to figure out why these particular guys would set him up. Nick mentioned that he’d given Barkow a three-day suspension for improper handling of evidence. Later, Nick revealed that Axel Elverson was disciplined in the same case.”
Curtis Franks looked impatient.
“Here’s my theory. The mishandled evidence was for a suspect named Callahan. I researched and learned it was a cocaine possession case, and his court-ordered release was a huge story in the media at the time.”
Brad saw Franks making notes. Perhaps he’d begun to connect the dots in the same way.
“Sanders, Barkow, and Elverson wouldn’t be the first rotten apples in the barrel,” Brad continued, “and I figured anybody who’d set up a fellow officer on an assault charge would be capable of much worse. I wondered if they were skimming drugs from evidence storage and using Ruddigore’s as a place to find prospective customers.”
Franks furrowed his brow.
“Because they recognized Nick when he showed up at Ruddigore’s, and he’d disciplined them on the evidence handling case, maybe they were afraid Nick would make the connection. That’s my theory, anyway.”
Franks cleared his throat. “First, I want you to know we’re going to—this is not for publication—suspend Sanders and Barkow for their false accusation. I don’t see that happening before tomorrow.”
“I understand,” Brad said.
Sharon added, “Phil’s having Halloween parties every Tuesday night at Ruddigore’s. A friend and I are going this evening. Sanders and Barkow will learn about Nick’s reinstate
ment today, and if we hear any telling reactions or admissions from them tonight, we’ll let you know.”
Franks nodded. “I’ll also suggest to Internal Affairs that they take another look at the Callahan case and, depending on what they find, look at those detectives’ handling of evidence in other drug-related cases.”
“I appreciate your time, Commissioner,” Brad said, as he and Sharon stood and prepared to leave. “I’m pleased with the outcome for Nick, but if I may say so, you don’t look happy.”
“I’m glad about Nick, too,” Franks said. “It bothered me to suspend him in the first place. It’s just, uh, now I’ve gotta give another call to that wet-behind-the-ears lawyer.”
25
Since Brad had his Mercedes back, he and Sharon parted company in the parking lot adjacent to Nick’s offices. He told Sharon he would see her back at the office, but she planned to stop at a Halloween shop on the way.
“I thought you already have your costume,” Brad said.
“Yes, but…I have this idea.” Sharon had a twinkle in her eye.
Brad decided not to interfere with her intentions.
The sun had warmed the car. Brad turned on the air conditioning and adjusted the driver’s seat, which Nick had adjusted forward for his own comfort.
His cell buzzed. He was surprised to see an incoming call from Hamilton Grayson.
“Hello, Hamilton.”
“Brad, is Riley Truit with you?”
It seems dumb for him to ask.
“No.”
Grayson sounded panicked. “He’s missing. I went to pick him up at his hotel this morning for the trip to the airport, but he wasn’t there.”
“Slow down. Have you tried to call him?”
“It goes into voice mail.”
“You saw him at dinner last night, right?”
“Yes.”
“What time did he return to The Ritz-Carlton?”
“Late. Uh… maybe ten.”
“What was your arrangement to pick him up?”
“I planned to meet him in front of the hotel at nine-thirty this morning. He wasn’t there when I arrived. I asked the doorman to watch my car while I ran into the lobby. I didn’t see him.”