Animal Instinct

by Rosenfelt, David

  “There is some deference to state law in matters of this kind, but there is nothing in New Jersey law that contradicts it. We are entitled to this information by any standard, and a showing of relevance at this time is therefore not required.”

  Dylan says, “Your Honor, rather than take the defense’s word for this, we would request some time to analyze applicable New Jersey law. As Your Honor knows, this was just sprung upon us.”

  Andy shakes his head, as if saddened. “I would have hoped that the prosecution team, as lawyers representing the State of New Jersey, would have been familiar with New Jersey law. The defense should not be delayed in the search for truth because the prosecution is uninformed.”

  Dylan looks like his head is about to explode. “That is outrageous, Your Honor.”

  “Which part?” Andy asks. “You just admitted you were uninformed. I was supporting your position.”

  “Gentlemen, do I really need to hear this childish bickering?” the judge asks.

  Dylan and Andy both apologize, after which Judge Wallace says that he will authorize the subpoena. I’m relieved when Andy doesn’t stick his tongue out at Dylan in triumph. Instead he asks the judge to insist on compliance with the subpoena immediately.

  “All it takes is to go into the computer and print out the records,” Andy says. “That should take a matter of minutes.”

  Wallace agrees and adjourns court for the day. Eddie Dowd will follow up and make sure the subpoena is served immediately.

  “Nice job,” I say, but Andy frowns.

  “A temporary victory. Ardmore will now get involved and will appeal the decision. This could take forever; all we did was start the process.”

  That is bad news, obviously, and we’re greeted with another piece of bad news when Sam calls me on the way home. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t get into the Ardmore records.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s got at least two layers of encryption that are impenetrable without knowledge of the code. If our atomic secrets had this much protection, Ethel and Julius Rosenberg would be playing shuffleboard tournaments in a senior home in Florida.”

  “I was wrong,” Andy says when I answer the phone.

  “Is it good news or bad news that you were wrong?” I ask, not knowing what he was wrong about. It could be that he was wrong when he said we had a chance to win the case.

  “Remains to be seen. They’re not contesting the subpoena; we’ll have the data by noon today. They’re having one of their computer techs access it from home.”

  “I don’t like it. If it was something helpful to us, they would be fighting it tooth and nail.”

  “That was my first reaction. Also my second and third. Why don’t you come over at two; Eddie Dowd will be bringing it here. I’ll have Sam here as well.”

  With time to kill, Dani, Simon, and I head out to an outdoor brunch. We don’t talk about the trial or case at all, or how next week at this time I could be sitting in a cell. But even with that hanging over our heads, it’s a pleasant respite and Simon seems to have a great time being doted on by two people.

  The brunch ends early when it starts to rain. “Maybe this is an omen,” I say.

  Dani frowns. “Or maybe it’s just rain.”

  I arrive at Andy and Laurie’s just before two with low expectations, and they are met. Eddie Dowd had gotten here a little early, and they’ve gone over copies of Doris Landry’s medical information.

  Nothing is obviously out of order; Landry had a series of medical issues throughout her life. Back surgery, a torn Achilles, various infections … nothing that one wouldn’t expect from someone who had already lived more than seventy years.

  According to the records, her pancreatic cancer was diagnosed less than six months before her death. If that is true, then there would have been no issue in disclosure to insurance companies on a policy that was taken out well before that.

  “That’s that,” I say. “So much for my germ of an idea.”

  Andy shakes his head. “Not necessarily. If we think they’ve manipulated the data once, then maybe they’ve done it here. Sam, Hackensack Hospital is the one who provided the information on the cancer diagnosis. Can you get into their system and find out if what they provided matches what is here?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Sam says. “Give me a couple of hours.”

  He leaves, and thus begins the longest two hours of my life, or at least the longest since the other day during jury selection. The phone finally rings, and when Andy sees on caller ID that it’s Sam, he says, “You take it.”

  I answer and Sam’s news is quick and painful. “The hospital information matches what we got from Ardmore. It’s legit.”

  IT’S rained on and off most of the night and into this morning.

  An outdoor brunch is therefore out of the question, and an indoor one eliminates Simon’s attendance, so that is equally unacceptable. So, Dani makes French toast for breakfast. It’s not her specialty; actually, Dani doesn’t have many cooking specialties. I haven’t told her that, but I suspect she knows it because she’s eating her efforts as well.

  I’m still aggravated that yesterday proved to be such a nonevent, but that hasn’t stopped me from thinking that the source of all that has happened is somewhere at Ardmore. Somehow, according to the already disproven theory that I can’t let go of, they are screwing around with the data.

  My current suspect in all of this is Richard Mahler, the head of IT, who replaced Don Crystal. Mahler obviously has the expertise and access to have done it, and that this all began when he was brought in is too much of a coincidence. I also think Jason Musgrove might be engineering the entire enterprise, but I’m nowhere close to proving that either of them is culpable.

  I decide I should speak to Stephanie Downes about this, partially because she has the information I am looking for, and partially because she seems to be the only one willing to talk to me. I have no way of reaching her on Sunday because I only have her office number. I check the company website to see if I can email her; maybe she checks her emails on weekends.

  I catch a break when I see that she is doing another seminar today at noon; this one is at the Saddle Brook Marriott, just ten minutes from my house. I don’t know how long the seminars last, but I certainly don’t want to sit through the entire thing. I’m guessing that it can’t be less than an hour, so I arrive there at one o’clock.

  The setup seems to be the same as last time, although Carol Ayers is the only woman at the desk outside the meeting room. It’s possible her colleague left already, since obviously the crowd has long ago gone inside and gotten settled.

  “Hello, Mr. Douglas,” she says.

  “Seventy-five bucks to have you take my picture?”

  She smiles. “No charge and no picture this time; you missed most of the event.”

  I start to go in, but then stop. “What did you do when Gerald Kline and Stephanie held events in different places at the same time? How did you choose which one to work at?”

  “They never did that; they would alternate.” Carol smiles. “They probably didn’t want to pay another employee.”

  I go inside, and sure enough, about fifteen minutes later Stephanie Downes finishes her spiel to substantial applause. Unfortunately, that is not the end of it. The attendees surround her afterward, trying to get her attention and make an impression. She stays gracious throughout and occasionally takes notes about what they say. She gives them all her card.

  When it’s all over, she walks over to me. “Sorry that took so long.”

  “No reason to apologize. You’re a medical services rock star.”

  She laughs. “Not hardly. They want me to recommend them for a job. That’s why they’re here.” Then, “But I’m guessing that’s not why you’re here. You’re here for more information.”

  “That’s uncanny.”

  Another laugh from her. “So what is it this time?”

  “There’s another person
that I want to know if Gerald Kline recommended for his job.”

  “As I told you, I wouldn’t necessarily have that information, but I might. Either way I won’t be able to access it until tomorrow when we get in the office.”

  “I understand.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Richard Mahler.”

  “Oh, that one is easy. I didn’t get involved because I’ve known him forever; we literally went to high school together. Gerald handled it so that there wouldn’t be a conflict, especially since it was such a top-level position.”

  “So Kline recommended him for that job?”

  She nods. “He did. I know that for an absolute fact.”

  “Okay. If you’re old friends, I’m probably going to get my ass kicked for asking this question, but … what are the chances that he would do something unethical? I’m talking about manipulating health data for his own financial benefit, and much worse.”

  She just about does a double take and looks me right in the eye. “Rico? No chance. Absolutely no chance.”

  “What did you call him?” I ask, though I know the answer.

  “Rico. That was his nickname in high school. Not sure why, but that’s what we called him.”

  “MAYBE we misread the email,” Laurie says. “Maybe it’s not about drugs at all.”

  Andy takes the email that Lisa Yates sent to Doris Landry out of his file, and we all read it again:

  Lisa: It’s getting worse. Gerald doesn’t think that Rico will do anything. I think he’s crazy.… Rico doesn’t just dispense this stuff for nothing. He’s a dangerous guy; he’s connected to people. I’m afraid to leave my house.

  Doris Landry: Are you still going to quit your job?

  Lisa: I think so. I can’t live here anymore. If I go somewhere else and get clean, I can start all over. Without Gerald.

  Doris Landry: You can do it, Lisa. You have strength you don’t even realize.

  Lisa: I’m going to need it.

  “It seems clear to me,” I say. “She’s talking about drugs.”

  Andy shakes his head. “Laurie may be right. There are two references in here which made us think it was drug related. One is ‘dispense this stuff’ and the other is her comment that she wants to ‘get clean.’ But what if the stuff he was dispensing was illegal information that they were profiting from? And what if ‘get clean’ simply meant go straight?”

  “I’d like to believe it, but it’s a stretch.”

  “Even in light of what we’ve learned? There never was any evidence of drug use by either Lisa or Kline; neither autopsy showed any trace of it. And we believe that there is crime, probably informational computer crime, going on at Ardmore. Doesn’t this all fit right into that?”

  “It does, just not neatly enough for my taste. What does it do for us legally?”

  “It helps,” Andy says. “One of our best pieces of evidence is the email. We didn’t have a Rico to tie it to, but now we do. Will Stephanie Downes testify?”

  “You mean to calling him Rico in high school? I would assume so. They were friends, but she’s not exactly accusing him of anything. If she resisted and we forced her to come, I don’t think she’d lie about it.”

  “Don’t approach her yet,” Andy says. “We don’t want to take a chance of word getting back to him that we suspect anything.”

  “Can we force him into a mistake?” Laurie asks.

  It’s a good question, but I don’t have a good answer.

  We all agree that we will think about that. For now we will assume that Mahler and probably Jason Musgrove, his boss, are dirty. Unfortunately, in light of our debacle in getting the data from the subpoena, we don’t know what they’re doing. We just know that they have committed at least three murders to preserve it.

  Andy says that he’s heading into the den to prepare for tomorrow’s court session. Robbie Lillard is going to be Dylan’s main witness; he’s the homicide detective who worked the case and who arrested me.

  “You want me to go over it with you?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “You sure? I know Robbie pretty well; I might be able to help.”

  “No.”

  “I’m getting the feeling you don’t want my help.”

  “What tipped you off?” Andy says on the way into the den.

  “LIEUTENANT Lillard, you questioned Mr. Douglas at the scene?”

  Dylan has painstakingly taken Lillard through his actions that night, starting with the alert he received of the 911 call. Now Dylan’s ready to get to the serious stuff.

  “I did.”

  “How did he describe what happened?”

  “He said that Mr. Kline had called him and said that he had something to show him, something related to the murder of Lisa Yates. He wouldn’t say what it was, just that if Douglas didn’t come over, he would give it to the police the next morning.”

  “Did you ask him why he didn’t just let Mr. Kline turn whatever it was over to the police?”

  Lillard nods. “Yes. He said that he was working the case, and that it was important to him to know what it was Kline had. He said that he had already spoken to Kline a few days before, and that he had threatened to nail him for the Yates murder.”

  “What else did Mr. Douglas say?”

  “That he and his dog came in and went to the room where the television was on. They assumed Kline was in there. He said they found him dead on the floor.”

  Dylan uses the opportunity to introduce photos from the scene. They are obviously gory and the jury recoils from them; I’m sure they can’t wait to get their own revenge on the animal who did this. Unfortunately, they think that I’m that animal.

  “Do these photos accurately reflect the scene in Mr. Kline’s house when you arrived?”

  “They do. I directed the police photographer myself.”

  “It was a very bloody scene. Did Mr. Douglas have blood on his clothing?”

  “Just some on the bottom of his shoes. He said he went to Mr. Kline’s body to feel for a pulse, but there was none.”

  “At some point, did you tell Mr. Douglas he could leave?”

  “Yes, he wrote out a statement and then left. I remained with my officers and with a forensics team. The coroner’s office took Mr. Kline’s body.”

  “Did you conduct a search of the area?”

  Lillard describes the search and finding bloody clothing and the knife in a plastic garbage bag in a Dumpster, four houses down. DNA tests showed that the blood was Kline’s, but that there was a substantial amount of my DNA as well. Kline’s blood was also on the knife.

  “Were there bloody footprints leading out of the house to the back?”

  “Yes. They matched the sneakers found in the garbage bag.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “We obtained and executed a search warrant on Mr. Douglas’s house.”

  “Did you find any other knives similar to the one that you found in the Dumpster?”

  Lillard nods. “Yes. The knife matched a set of steak knives that was in his kitchen.”

  “What about the garbage bag that the knife and clothing were in?”

  “There was an open box of garbage bags in Mr. Douglas’s house. They were the same make, size, and color as the one in the Dumpster.”

  Dylan turns Lillard over to Andy for cross-examination. He starts by asking if Lillard recognized me when he arrived at the house.

  “I did. I knew Corey … Mr. Douglas … from his time on the force.”

  “Did you recognize his dog, Simon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Simon have any blood on him?”

  “Yes. On his paws.”

  “When you questioned Mr. Douglas, did you do it in the same room that the body was found in?”

  “No, the forensics team was doing their work, so we went into the kitchen.”

  “Did Simon go with Mr. Douglas into the kitchen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he have to be instructed
to do that, or did he just go where Mr. Douglas went?”

  “He did not have to be instructed.”

  “When Mr. Douglas finally left, did Simon go with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Again without being instructed?”

  Lillard nods. “Correct.”

  “When you knew them on the force, was that always the case? To your knowledge, Simon stuck with him at all times?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Were there bloody paw prints leading to the back of the house, along with the human footprints?”

  Lillard seems to fight to resist smiling. “No, there were not.”

  Andy pauses for a short while to let that sink in on the jury. Then, “Lieutenant, you say you knew Mr. Douglas on the force. At that time, did you consider him a good cop?”

  “Very much so.”

  “A smart cop?”

  “Definitely.”

  “One who understands police procedures and how an investigation is conducted.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Would you describe your decision to search the surrounding area as a brilliant one? An inspired one?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Was searching the area standard procedure, or a stroke of genius on your part?”

  “It was standard procedure.”

  “Any good detective would have had it done?”

  “Yes.”

  “So Mr. Douglas, who you just described as a smart cop, would have known a search like that would be standard procedure?”

  “I certainly would think so.”

  “And testing the clothing for DNA, also standard procedure?”

  “Yes.”

  “And obtaining a search warrant for a suspect’s house … groundbreaking detective work, or standard procedure?”

  “Standard procedure.”

  “So a good cop like Mr. Douglas would likely have known exactly what would be done?”

  “I would think so.”

  “Were you surprised that he left you so many obvious clues?”