“Why’d you go when you did?”
“The informant told me that Hoskow was about to rabbit. That if I was going to speak to him, I better do it then.”
“Name of this informant?”
Cramer shook his head. “It won’t help you to know it. Friends of mine on the force are looking for him, and he doesn’t seem to want to be found.”
“So he’s either hiding or dead?”
Cramer nodded glumly.
“Still, I need to know his name. And the names of your fellow officers who are looking for him.”
Cramer didn’t like it, but he gave Julius the names.
“The news story I saw talked about damning video evidence against you. What do they have?”
Grumbling, Cramer said, “An organized crime task force had Hoskow’s house under video surveillance. They have me entering his house, and again leaving, supposedly three minutes before Hoskow made his nine-one-one call.” His eyes flashed as they met Julius’s. “Hoskow gave me nothing on the robbery, and he was alive and well when I left.”
“A frame-up?”
Cramer nodded, again glumly. “It’s got to be Quinn,” he said. “Without my testimony, Maguire walks. That’s got to be what’s behind this.” He grimaced and shook his head, disgust showing in his eyes. “It looks like they got me wrapped up tight.”
The Maguire Cramer was referring to was Walter Maguire, reputedly one of Billy Quinn’s top lieutenants. Maguire was arrested by Cramer for robbing the Porter Square Savings and Loan, and his trial was scheduled to start in two weeks. If Cramer’s charged with murder, his testimony against Maguire wouldn’t hold any water, and Maguire would be acquitted on lack of evidence. Billy Quinn, for those of you who’ve been in a cave for the last twenty years, is Boston’s most notorious crime boss. I’d been trying to figure out what Julius’s game was. He might be all for justice and fairness and apple pie, but he also likes to be well compensated for his efforts, and he had to know he wasn’t going to get much of a fee from Cramer. Quinn being in the picture made me think that that might have something to do with Julius’s altruism, but I still couldn’t see the connection between Quinn and Julius’s interest in this.
Julius asked, “What do you think happened?”
Splotches of red peppered Cramer’s cheeks as he clamped his mouth shut. I wasn’t sure whether this was out of embarrassment or anger. When he was able to talk again, he told Julius that the killer must’ve been hiding in Hoskow’s home when he was there. “He must’ve slipped out after the police arrived. That’s all I can think.” Cramer hesitated, then added, “Look, Julius, it helps to know that there’s at least one guy who thinks I might be telling the truth about this, but I don’t have the money to pay for one of your investigations.”
“I’m not asking you to pay anything.”
Cramer eyed Julius carefully. “I’m not owing you a favor either, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said.
Julius smiled thinly. “That’s not what I’m thinking.”
Later, as Julius was leaving the jail, I mentioned how hard it seemed to be for Cramer to call him Julius earlier instead of spitting out Katz like he usually does as if it were a swear word. “He’s called you Julius once or twice in the past. Today, though, he almost choked on your name. I don’t get it.”
Julius shrugged. “It’s the circumstances. He doesn’t want to feel as if he owes me anything. He won’t.”
I didn’t doubt that, at least the part about how Cramer wasn’t going to be owing Julius anything. Even if Julius believed Cramer to be innocent, there was still that police surveillance video, and that seemed damning. The idea that the real killer hid in the house and went undetected by the swarm of police who followed the nine-one-one call seemed farfetched at best. But even if that’s what happened, Julius was going to have to find a way to prove it, and that didn’t seem likely. I exhausted all the different simulations I could think of, and each of them ended up the same way. If Cramer really was innocent, the odds were close to a hundred percent he’d be taking the fall for Hoskow’s murder.
But I kept those thoughts to myself.
◆◆◆
Detective Mike Griff was the lead investigator for Hoskow’s murder. He always had several days of thick stubble covering his broad face, but given how bloodshot his eyes were and the heavy bags underneath them, I was guessing he hadn’t slept since the murder was reported. He grunted his appreciation when Julius handed him a large coffee and bag of Italian cookies that he had picked up at a bakery in the North End.
“I always hate it when a cop turns out to be dirty,” Griff muttered, his voice little more than a hoarse croak.
“Cramer claims he’s innocent.”
Griff made a face at that prospect. “Not a chance,” he said. Before he gave any further explanation, he fished through the bag of cookies Julius brought, pulled one out and munched on it, then popped the lid on the coffee and took a long sip, his eyes closing as he savored the beverage. When he opened his eyes again and fixed them on Julius’s they were every bit as bloodshot as before. The coffee, though, must’ve helped lubricate his throat because his voice sounded better when he asked whether Cramer had told Julius about the video surveillance.
Julius nodded.
“Not only is he as dirty as a bus station restroom, but he’s got a hell of a lot of gall asking you to prove he’s innocent with what we got.”
Griff picked up a folder from his desk and handed Julius two photos from it.
“The deceased, Chester Hoskow, lived in the middle row house shown in the first photo. The only egresses are front and back, and no side windows that someone could’ve entered or left from.” Griff’s face froze as if he were trying to stifle a yawn. When his face unfroze, he took another sip of coffee, and after placing the cardboard cup back on his desk, he continued, “Video surveillance covered front and back, and the video proves the only person who could’ve killed Hoskow was Cramer. Conclusively.”
“Cramer’s theory is that the killer must’ve hid in the house and snuck out later.”
Griff smiled sourly at that idea. “That didn’t happen. First off, it’s not a big house. Probably less than thirteen hundred square feet, and I checked it thoroughly. I even brought in a search dog. No one was hiding in it, and there are no secret passageways to a neighboring row house. Cramer’s the only who could’ve iced Chester Hoskow.”
“What’s your theory for motive? That he was carrying out a hit for Billy Quinn?”
Griff scratched lazily along his jaw as he considered Julius’s question. “Possibly, but I’m thinking it was probably one of Quinn’s enemies who ordered it since Hoskow was one of Quinn’s boys, although poor Chester was pretty low on the food chain and from what I’m hearing he might’ve become an annoyance for Quinn.”
“If it was a paid hit, Cramer should have some money to show for it.”
“He tell you we’re not going to find any? So what. He’s a smart guy. I’m guessing he’s got the money well hid. It wasn’t bad planning, just bad luck that Hoskow was under surveillance, otherwise he would’ve gotten away with the hit. I still haven’t found where he stashed the murder weapon.”
“Which was?”
Griff helped himself to another cookie and another sip of coffee. “Both bullets and shells were recovered. A .40 caliber was used. Neighbors didn’t hear any gunshots, so a silencer must’ve been used also.” He gave Julius a hard smile. “You’re getting a lot of information for a few cookies and a coffee.”
Julius shrugged. “These aren’t just any cookies and coffee. They’re from Ferrara’s.” His manner grew more serious as he added, “I figured you wouldn’t mind my eyes on this. Your bosses in the past have paid me a good deal of money for what I’m offering you now for free.”
Griff nodded slowly, his eyes glazing. “Yeah, sure, but you’re wasting your time with this one, Julius. But, sure, whatever. What else can I tell you?”
“Hoskow was killed two days
ago. If the newspaper accounts are accurate the nine-one-one call was made at nine forty-seven p.m. Cramer wasn’t arrested until late last night. Why the delay?”
“The task force contacted me at two o’clock yesterday about the video. After I saw it, I spent another eight hours getting all my ts crossed and is dotted before arresting a police officer. Nothing unusual about the timing.”
If Julius thought there was, he didn’t show it, but then again, he had an excellent poker face when he wanted to. “Can I see the recording?” Julius asked.
Griff shrugged, both palms up. “If you want, but it’s not going to help you any,” he said. “If you’re thinking the killer snuck out after we arrived, maybe disguised in a patrolman’s uniform or as a crime-scene specialist, that’s not what happened. I checked for that. I was able to account for every single person who left the house.”
“Still, it would help me to see the video.”
Griff shrugged, his expression showing that he expected to be wasting more of Julius’s and his own time. But he didn’t argue, and after he brought the video up on his computer, Julius asked for some paper so he could take notes. The first note that he wrote was for me:
Check for whether the video was altered.
“Where do you want me to start the recording?” Griff asked. “How about when Cramer first arrived?”
“That would be fine.”
Griff fiddled with the controls to get to the desired position, and then started the video. Since the surveillance camera was positioned to record the front of the house, you could only see Cramer’s back as he stomped his way to the front door. A digital clock in the upper right-hand corner of the video ticked off seconds, and according to this clock it was nine thirty-one and forty-two seconds when Cramer approached the front door. Twenty-three seconds later the door was opened and he disappeared inside the house. For the next twelve minutes and eight seconds there was nothing of interest, then at nine forty-four and thirteen seconds Cramer exited the house. Now that he was facing the surveillance camera, it was easy to get a good look at him, even in the partial darkness that shaded him, and he appeared to be scowling in the same frustrated manner that I’ve seen often from him in the past whenever Julius has stonewalled him. Maybe he also looked that way after killing someone.
At nine forty-four and twenty-one seconds Cramer disappeared from view, and then at nine forty-six and three seconds I told Julius, “Bingo.” Since I communicate to Julius through a small receiver he wears in his ear, Detective Griff wasn’t privy to my excited outburst. I took an equivalent of a deep breath to calm myself, and then told Julius about the twenty-three millisecond gap that showed up on the video recording at the nine forty-six and three second mark. “Twenty-three milliseconds might not sound like a lot,” I said, “but to me it’s as obvious as a hippo doing backflips.”
Julius wrote another note:
Very good. Look for the next gap.
As Julius expected, there was another gap, this one showing up at the nine forty-eight and eighteen second mark. Like the first one, it was too small for anyone to have noticed without performing forensic analysis on the video—only twenty-one milliseconds in duration, but for me it was as glaring as a flashing red light. I told Julius about it.
“Someone edited the recording,” I said. “I’m guessing the video between those two gaps was replaced with video from another night running at the same time. Whoever did it did a neat job, just not a perfect job.”
Julius let out a small grunt for my benefit, then told Griff he had seen enough. After the video was stopped, he asked about the cell phone Hoskow had used to call nine-one-one. “The news report I saw mentioned he had used a disposable phone.”
“Yeah? The news is reporting that?”
That was a white lie on Julius’s part. I had done some hacking before he had arrived at the New Sudbury Street station to meet with Griff, and that was one of the items I discovered.
“I believe so,” Julius said. “Unless I misheard.”
“No, you didn’t mishear anything. I’m just surprised we gave that out. But yeah, a burner was used. And in case you’re wondering, it only had his fingerprints.”
“Your theory is then that he had this disposable phone on him, and after he was shot and left for dead, he was able to fish it out of a pocket and dial nine-one-one right before conveniently expiring without uttering a word to the operator?”
“Yeah, that’s my theory.”
“Don’t you find it odd that he used a burner instead of a smartphone? Hoskow was thirty-three, correct? Wouldn’t someone his age be more likely to be carrying a smartphone around on him?” Julius smiled thinly and added, “Isn’t that mandatory these days?”
“Not necessarily. The guy was a low-level crook. He might’ve been expecting a call to come over his burner.”
“Did he have a smartphone on him? Or in his house?”
Griff was at first going to dismiss Julius’s question as not being relevant, but I saw the shift in his eyes as he realized that it might very well be. He picked out one of the folders from his desk and started frowning as he searched through it.
“He didn’t have one on him,” Griff said, his tone more subdued than seconds earlier. “And we didn’t take any from the murder site. I’ll have some uniforms search his house and see if they can find one. You’re thinking Cramer took Hoskow’s smartphone because there was something incriminating on it?”
“If Hoskow owned a smartphone that is now missing, then yes, I think it’s highly likely someone took it with him for that reason. But I’m not convinced it was Cramer.”
I took this as a strong hint from Julius to find out whether Chester Hoskow had a smartphone, and it took me less than three hundred milliseconds of hacking to find out that he did, and which carrier he was using. Griff spent relatively much longer than that—six point four seconds, to be precise—shaking his head in puzzlement over Julius still not being convinced of Cramer’s guilt.
Griff said, “I agree, I need to find out if Hoskow had a smartphone, and if he did, where it is now because you’re right, there could be something useful on it. But it doesn’t change anything about Cramer being our guy.”
“Unless the video was altered. A competent forensics specialist should be able to tell you that,” Julius said with a straight face. At least he didn’t offer to bet Griff on the results.
◆◆◆
Three hours and fifty-one minutes later Julius, Griff and three members of the organized crime task force were in a conference room within the New Sudbury Street police station. The three task force members were Carl Grantham, Sara Fiske, and Edward Landreen. Grantham was forty-seven, a tough linebacker type with a shaved head and thick biceps. He was also an ex-marine with twenty years on the job, the last twelve as Detective. Sara Fiske was thirty-four, petite with long dark hair and green eyes, and given how much she resembled Eva Longoria, very attractive. Like Grantham, she was also a Detective, although in her case for only six years. Rounding it out was Landreen. He was thirty-nine, and was a skinny guy with thinning red hair and thick glasses who worked for the police department as a video technician.
Sara Fiske and Edward Landreen both sat at the table, Fiske looking amused and curious about the situation, and Landreen, from the way he was squirming in his seat and unable to meet Julius’s stare, scared to death. Carl Grantham wasn’t sitting. He was fuming too much to sit, and instead stood with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Griff as if he were trying to obliterate the homicide detective’s head with the sheer intensity of his thoughts.
“You’re going to tell me with a straight face that Cramer is innocent?” Grantham demanded in a badly-strained voice. “After we gave you that video wrapping up your murder case for you, you’re going to tell us that?” He uncrossed his chest so that his hands hung at his sides, his body tensing, his fingers curling as if they badly wanted to wrap themselves into fists. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but it sure looked as if h
e were on the verge of launching himself after Griff, maybe at Julius also. He might’ve even done this if Fiske didn’t distract him by asking him to relax.
“Carl, play along, okay? Let’s hear what they have to say.”
“You’re kidding, right?” he said, barely keeping himself from snarling at his fellow task force detective. “The only reason these two jokers ordered us here—”
“Requested from your supervising officer that you make yourself available,” Griff deadpanned.
The glare Grantham had fixed on Detective Griff turned up several degrees, but otherwise he ignored him and continued his tirade.
“—and then told us that that scumbag cop, Cramer, is innocent is because they’re planning on accusing us of faking that video!”
Julius spoke up then. “Sir, I assure you that we are not accusing you of faking the video. Detective Cramer did in fact enter and leave Chester Hoskow’s home as the video showed. I can, though, state for a fact that the video was altered.”
Grantham’s thousand watt glare turned exclusively onto Julius. “I know all about you and how you play things fast and loose,” he forced out, his voice ragged. “That dirty cop Cramer put you up to this garbage?”
“And what garbage might that be?”
Grantham was sputtering. “You damn clown! Trying to pin Hoskow’s murder on us!”
Julius looked at Griff and asked, “May I?” Griff, his heavy eyelids drooping as if he were having trouble staying awake, nodded, and Julius turned back to face the seething Carl Grantham.
“No, not on all of you. For now we’ll assume only one of you is responsible, although Detective Griff will have to consider the possibility that two or more of you conspired on these murders. And I say murders because it wasn’t just Chester Hoskow who was murdered, but also a confidential informant by the name of Willie McCrawley. Roughly forty minutes ago McCrawley’s body was found in the trunk of a stolen car left abandoned on Kneeland Avenue, also shot twice in the chest. Since McCrawley sent Detective Cramer to Hoskow’s house, the obvious assumption is that Hoskow’s killer paid him to do so, and then murdered him to keep him from talking.”
More Julius Katz and Archie Page 11