Animal Instinct

by Rosenfelt, David

  “Is that the highlight of your report, Sam?”

  He nods. “Pretty much. I’ve looked in to Stanley and Katherine Branstetter, the other two people shot the night Lisa Yates was killed. By the way, they’re both out of the hospital.

  “They live in New City, up in Rockland County, and they own and operate Kate’s Diner in Spring Valley. No criminal record, no obvious associations with people we would be interested in, and they have a net worth of seven hundred thousand, most of which is their house.

  “They have two kids, both have graduated college and are currently living out of state. There is nothing I can find about the Branstetter family that would make them a likely target of a hit man.”

  “On the surface, the same thing would be true for Lisa Yates,” Laurie says, and Sam nods his agreement.

  “So we’re back where we were,” I say. “I confront Kline, we rattle his cage, and we see what happens. Sam, I’m going to meet with Kline. We’ll want to know who he calls, if anyone, in the twenty-four hours after that meeting. Can you do that?”

  “Of course. Laurie already told me about it.”

  “How will you get his phone numbers?”

  “Duh,” Sam says, as Laurie smiles.

  “Okay. I don’t want to know anyway. As soon as Marcus figures out the best time and place, we do it.”

  I hate waiting, which is among the reasons why I like Marcus.

  There is nothing casual about Marcus when he gets an assignment; he does it and moves on to the next thing.

  He has quickly come up with a time and place for me to confront Kline. Like Laurie, he also offers to come with me. There is no doubt that five minutes in a room with Marcus would make Kline confess to killing Lisa Yates. He would also confess to the Kennedy assassination, the Lindbergh kidnapping, and the sinking of the Lusitania.

  I probably would also.

  But I decline Marcus’s participation, just as I declined Laurie’s. I’m sure they are waiting for me to call if there’s an emergency, and they’re probably stationed nearby. That’s what I would do if the roles were reversed; it’s what teammates do.

  But I sized Kline up that night at Lisa Yates’s house; he does not represent a threat to me. If I can’t handle him, I shouldn’t just be retired. I should be in a retirement home.

  Marcus suggested I wait at Kline’s house for him. For the last two nights he has left his office in Fort Lee, gone to a bar/restaurant near his office for dinner and a couple of drinks, and then driven to his Ridgewood home.

  He has been considerate enough to live in an upscale neighborhood, with good distance separating him from his nearest neighbors. It’s also dark; apparently rich people don’t like streetlights.

  I park down the block from Kline’s house, and Simon and I walk toward it and then up his fairly long driveway. We won’t be seen from the street, and Kline will have no idea we are here. He’ll find out soon enough.

  Kline arrives ten minutes earlier than Marcus predicted. He parks in the detached garage, and Simon and I are waiting for him when he exits and heads for the house. A floodlight is on, obviously triggered by a motion detector.

  “Hello, Gerald.”

  He just about jumps out of his skin, letting out some guttural noise, and his knees actually seem to buckle. When he gets control, he says, “Who are you? What’s going on? I have nothing worth robbing.”

  As he finishes saying this, he sees Simon, who has his game face on. Simon is obviously not here to play fetch. “Holy shit,” Kline says. “Come on, tell me what’s happening.”

  “You don’t recognize me?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “My name is Corey Douglas. I was there the night you smacked Lisa Yates around.”

  He struggles to make the connection. “Douglas … the cop.”

  “Right. The cop.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because I’m going to nail you for killing her.”

  “Hey, come on. I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Right. Like you didn’t hit her that night.”

  “Okay, maybe I pushed her and she fell. She was driving me crazy. She knew it was as much her fault as mine, which is why she didn’t press charges. But I didn’t kill her … come on, man. I talked to the police; I wasn’t even in town that night.”

  “I know about the twenty-five grand in cash, and I know who you paid it to. You’re going down, and I’m going to enjoy watching it.”

  “I’m telling you, you’re wrong. That cash was to go play blackjack in Atlantic City. Lisa and I broke up a while ago; why would I kill her?”

  I can feel myself getting angry; it’s an anger I have been carrying a long time. I move toward him slightly … threatening. It’s a subtle threat but not an empty one; I’m not sure what I might do.

  “I’m just spitballing here, but it could be because you’re a chickenshit asshole. Why did you break up? She got tired of being abused?”

  “Because she dumped my ass.” Then he shrugged. “She caught me fooling around. It was time to move on anyway. We both knew it.”

  “Don’t get too comfortable, Kline. I’m coming for you, and I’m not moving on. And I’m no longer a cop; I’m private. So I can do whatever I want with you.”

  With that I turn and leave. I have to tug on Simon’s leash; he’s staring at Kline like he wants to use him for a chew toy.

  That’s my boy.

  LAURIE and Marcus are waiting for Simon and me at Laurie’s house after we leave Kline’s.

  I’m going to update them on what happened, which shouldn’t take long, since nothing of great consequence was discovered. And I’m sure Simon is planning to check in with Tara.

  “He denied it,” I say. “Which was obviously to be expected. The surprising thing is he admitted to the domestic violence, sort of. He said he pushed her, and she fell.”

  “Maybe he just wanted to give you something,” Laurie says. “Maybe he was afraid of the lunatic and his dog waiting for him behind his house.”

  “That’s the strange thing. He was scared when he first saw me, but when he realized who I was and why I was there, it was almost like he was relieved.”

  “Could be that knowing you were a cop gave him confidence you wouldn’t do anything violent to him?”

  I think about that for a few seconds. “It’s possible, but that’s not what it felt like. It was almost as if he was afraid I might be someone else, someone who he was really afraid of. Although his level of nervousness went up a bit when I told him I knew about the cash he withdrew.”

  “So where are we now?” Laurie asks.

  “The same nowhere we were before.” It’s hard for me to admit that, but it’s true. “Unless he makes a phone call that helps us and Sam tracks it.”

  “If not, then much as I hate to say it, it might be time for a reality check, Corey.”

  I nod. “Let her rip. I can take it.”

  “Okay … here goes. We have not been able to lay a glove on him. I’m not saying we’ve exhausted all our possibilities; there are still plenty of people to talk to. But all we’ve uncovered so far are the suspicious cash withdrawals, which could be explained in a hundred different ways.”

  I nod. “He said he was using it to gamble in Atlantic City.”

  “There’s plenty more to do, and Marcus and I are happy to follow your lead. But I don’t think there is any concrete reason to think he did it, other than your dislike for him. We’re not aware of any other domestic violence incidents between them, and if that were a recurring problem, there would be records of it somewhere.

  “They dated for a while and they split up; why would we think that would lead to murder? And a professional hit from a moving car? Do we have any evidence that Kline had connections to that world?

  “We don’t even know for sure that Lisa Yates was the target. It could have been the other couple, or it could have been someone else there that escaped injury, or it could have been a case of mistaken identity. />
  “We just don’t know, and we’re not likely to know.”

  The phone rings and Laurie gets it. After hello, she says, “Thanks, Sam. Stay on it, please.”

  She hangs up. “Sam says that Kline hasn’t made any calls since you left.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Let me think about this for a little while.”

  “Take your time,” Laurie says. “We are ready and willing to take this as far as you want to. Your instincts have always been excellent.”

  I smile. “Not just mine. Simon couldn’t stand him either.”

  Laurie laughs. “You sound like Andy. If Tara doesn’t like someone, Andy thinks the person is a serial killer. Of course, Tara likes everyone.” Then, more serious, “We’ll await your direction, right, Marcus?”

  Marcus nods. “Yunhh.”

  That pretty much sums it up.

  “I found out what is going on. We have nothing to worry about,” Kline said.

  He had felt this news was important enough to make one of his rare calls on the special phone that they had given him.

  As always happened when he called Carlos, the call went unanswered, and there was no option to leave a message. Yet within a minute Carlos returned the call. Kline had no idea why Carlos went through this process but assumed there must be a good reason. Carlos always seemed to have a good reason for everything.

  “That will require some explanation,” Carlos said.

  “Sure. A while back, when I was living with Lisa … with Yates … we had an argument. I got pissed and I hit her. Only time I ever did it, and I didn’t hit her that hard. Anyway, a neighbor must have heard what was going on, because next thing we know a cop shows up.” Kline was relaxing into the story, knowing it will relieve the pressure.

  “Lisa knew better than to go against me, against us, so she told the cop she fell. He left, but I could tell he didn’t believe us. He was obviously pissed that there was nothing he could do, and I let him know he couldn’t touch me.

  “Anyway, this same cop showed up with a scary dog at my house tonight. He thinks I killed Yates because of what happened that night. Of course I told him I didn’t.”

  “What was his response to that?”

  “I think he believed me, but…” Kline caught himself, but realized he had made a major error.

  “But what?”

  “Well, I had taken some cash out of the bank, twenty-five grand, and somehow he knew about it. He must be the guy checking up on me, like you said.”

  “Why did you take out that cash?”

  Kline knew the question was coming, but he didn’t have a good answer for it. He was aware he was about to dig a deeper hole, but he had no alternative. “To pay some of my people. But I lied and told him it was to play blackjack in Atlantic City. He believed me.”

  “We supply the funds. At this point you still do not know that?”

  “No, I do.… I know that. But the money was late, and my people were getting anxious. I didn’t want to bother you, so I paid them and reimbursed myself when your money arrived.”

  “Tell me everything you know about this policeman.”

  “Well, for one thing, he’s not a cop anymore. I guess he retired or something. And he had a dog that looked like a police dog … scary as hell.”

  “His name?”

  “Corey Douglas.”

  “I will be calling you very soon.”

  “Okay.” Kline grew concerned; this conversation had not gone in a direction he had anticipated. “Is there anything wrong? I really think it’s under control.”

  “Former cop Corey Douglas may have to be dealt with.”

  I’M mostly resigned to the fact that I’m not getting anywhere.

  Laurie is right; not only do we have little chance to nail Kline for the murder, but there is an excellent possibility that he had nothing to do with it. I know that I have been letting my dislike for him color my attitude.

  I don’t feel bad about it; if I was still a cop, then having this kind of bias would be unacceptable. But in my current role, I can take a flier on something like this without causing any harm. But I should not be dragging Laurie and Marcus deeper into it.

  I’ve got an already scheduled interview today, which I am going to keep, with Susan Redick. Redick was the fourth speaker at Lisa Yates’s funeral service; she worked with her at Ardmore Medical Systems.

  I take Simon on our morning walk, and when I get back, the phone is ringing. It’s Dani calling from Miami; we’ve only talked twice this past week, and I’ve missed it.

  She’s calling to tell me that she’ll be back on Sunday and that she’s looking forward to it, because, according to her, “it’s a hundred and thirty-eight degrees in the shade here, although there isn’t any shade. And I went for one of those beach dirt walks you like so much and burned my feet.”

  Dani says that she’s going to come to my house from the airport, which I’m happy to hear. She’s been living at my place a little more than half the time, while still keeping her own apartment. It’s working out well, so neither of us is inclined to make any changes.

  When I get off the phone, Simon and I head out. It’s Saturday, so Susan Redick asked me to come to her house in Leonia. I had checked with her to see if she liked dogs, and she said she loved them. She has two of her own, and apparently they would be excited to meet a new friend.

  Susan and her two dogs are waiting for us on her front porch when we arrive. She has one dog in each arm, and it doesn’t look like she’s straining to carry them. That’s because one is a Maltese, whom she introduces as Tamar, and the other one is a Pomeranian named Ginny. Simon could have them both for lunch and still be hungry afterward.

  “Look, a new friend,” she says.

  “You sure they’re going to be okay with Simon?”

  “You said he was dog friendly, right?”

  “Right. But he’s used to actual full-size dogs. I’m afraid he could step on one of them by accident.”

  She laughs. “They can handle themselves. Come on in.”

  Once we get inside, she puts the minidogs on the floor. Simon has no idea what to make of them as they run circles around him. It is hilarious. Then they all run into another room, or, more accurately, they chase Simon into the other room.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Susan says, “they’ll be fine.”

  She offers me coffee and the greatest blueberry muffins I have ever had. They’re homemade, she tells me. Four are on the plate, and since she looks pretty thin, I’m counting on three of them for myself. If things don’t work out with Dani, I am going to marry this woman, just for the muffins.

  “So, you and Lisa Yates were coworkers at Ardmore Medical Systems?”

  She nods. “Our cubicles were right next to each other.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Same as me. We keep medical records up-to-date on our computer systems, which hospitals, doctors, and insurance companies can and do access.”

  “So nothing in the medical world is private?”

  “It is, if you want it to be. But my guess is that you don’t, and I would also bet that you signed away that privacy, probably without you knowing it.”

  “How did I do that?”

  “On one of those forms at your doctor’s office, or from your insurance company, that you didn’t want to read. No one ever reads those things.”

  “Oh.”

  I ask her the standard questions about whether Lisa had any enemies, et cetera, but I get nowhere. She does not even know Gerald Kline; I get the feeling that the only thing close about her and Lisa was their cubicles.

  Then I ask whether Lisa had seemed different lately, perhaps troubled.

  “I don’t know; I hadn’t seen her since she quit.”

  “Quit? She quit her job?”

  “Oh, yes. More than a month before she died. She didn’t even tell me she was going to. I didn’t even realize it until she didn’t show up for a couple of days. I asked our boss, and he said she quit.
He wouldn’t go into why.”

  In the month before her death, Lisa broke up with Gerald Kline without telling her sister and quit her job without telling her best friend, Una Loge. This was a person who was dealing with significant things in her life.

  “Do you have any guess as to why she quit?” I ask.

  Susan shrugs. “Money? We’re not exactly overpaid. But if you really want to get into the nitty-gritty of that place, talk to Don Crystal.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He used to be one of our bosses, at least on the computer side. They fired him about a year ago.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugs. “I’m assuming because he pissed off management. Don had a way of doing that; he can be a pretty unusual guy.”

  “So when you say he can tell me about the nitty-gritty, you mean the politics of the place?”

  She nods. “I’ll bet he knows where all the bodies are buried.” Then, “Oh, that’s a bad way to put it in this situation. I’m sorry.”

  I ask Susan a few more questions, which gives me an excuse to have the third muffin. Then I go into the other room to get Simon. He’s lying on his back, and the two little dogs are trying to jump up to get on his stomach. Tamar, the Maltese, almost makes it, but just slides off each time. All three dogs seem to be enjoying themselves.

  When we leave, I make a spur-of-the-moment decision to head down to the shore. Simon loved going in the ocean so much that I figure I’d give him another shot at it.

  So we go back down to Asbury and spend almost an hour throwing and retrieving the tennis ball. Simon has a great time and so do I. I even take my shoes off; I take a cell phone photograph of my bare feet on the wet sand and email it to Dani. I’m a cop by training; I believe in presenting evidence.

  We don’t get home until about six thirty, after stopping for burgers along the way. We enter the house through the front door, and I immediately know something is wrong.

  Someone has been in my house.

  IT’S a cop thing.

  I’m sensitive to something not being where it should be, something not being just right. It’s an instinct that I have honed over time, but which I completely trust. The small rug in front of the front door has been moved slightly, and the corner is turned up. That’s enough to confirm my feeling.