EDDIE
I was tempted not to ask Soames anything at all. His testimony had been damaging, but not too bad. Kate had done her best to minimize it, but her opening question wasn't tight enough. Not her fault. Some witnesses need a tighter leash than others and you can't know that until you ask your first question. Years of experience can give you an advantage, but Kate was doing better than I did on my first murder trial.
I stood, decided I had to shake the tree some more. See what fell out.
'Detective Soames, when the defendants made these statements to you at the scene, I suppose both defendants had been arrested, and read their Miranda rights before they spoke to you?'
'Of course,' said Soames.
Even if that weren't true, that was the answer you got from every cop in the city when you asked that question. No cop is going to admit a suspect said anything significant without first being given their right to remain silent. If they didn't have their rights read to them, the statement was largely inadmissible. Soames would never admit to talking to a suspect without them being Mirandized.
'Are you sure both defendants had been arrested and Mirandized before you spoke to them at the scene?'
'I am one hundred percent certain,' he said, with a degree of satisfaction. He had delivered this affirmative answer with a smug smile to the jury. Little did he know, he'd just handed me his heart on a plate. I wouldn't rip it from him yet. I had to wait until the right time.
'Detective Soames, you consider the statements made by the defendants at the scene to be significant, yes?'
'Correct.'
'I thought so. You seem to be implying that because Alexandra and Sofia did not ask you if their father was still alive, that means they killed him?'
'It's a logical conclusion.'
'Let us remind ourselves here that the prosecution maintain there is evidence against both of these defendants. If one defendant makes a significant statement to you, at the crime scene, well, isn't that vital evidence for the prosecution
case?' 'Yes.'
'You knew this was important evidence when you wrote it down in your notebook at the scene, didn't you?'
'I guess I did.'
'And given that it's so vital, you didn't think to include it in your deposition or give copies of your notebook to the prosecutor so they could be disclosed to the defense teams?'
'I gave all relevant information to the DA's office.'
'But not a copy of the relevant pages from your notebook?'
He paused.
If he lied and said yes he could jeopardize the credibility of the prosecutor; if
he told the truth then he had no way of knowing what kind of blind alley I was leading him down.
'I must've overlooked my notes. I don't think I gave a copy to the District Attorney's office.'
'You don't think you did? The former mayor of New York City is lying dead, torn to pieces in his bedroom, you have two suspects in custody, according to you both of them made significant statements, and you don't think you handed over a note of those statements? Either you did, or you did not. Which is it?'
Soames cleared his throat, tried to regain some composure, then looked to the jury and said, 'I did not.'
It was my turn to hit the pause button. Let that sink in for the jury. It was a minor point, but I wanted to let it chew up the furniture for a while.
'Are you incapable of conducting a basic investigation, Detective Soames?'
He didn't bother to look at the jury for his answer, he shot it straight back at me with a little heat on the return.
'My record speaks for itself. My department has one of the highest homicide clearance rates in this city, or any other city for that matter.'
'Then as an experienced and talented investigator you wouldn't make such a basic error of not handing over vital information to the DA's office?'
'I guess ...'
'Detective, the statements made by the defendants at the scene are not significant at all, are they?'
'They are. Alexandra and Sofia didn't ask if their father was alive because they both knew he was already dead, because they had made damn sure he was dead.'
'There's another reason neither of the defendants asked if their father was alive, isn't there?' 'Not one that I can see. In all my years as a homicide detective, it has never occurred before.'
'Earlier, you confirmed that before the defendants were questioned at the scene, they had been read their rights, remember?'
'I remember. I'm certain. They had been read their rights.'
'Suspects are only read their rights after they are arrested, yes?'
'Correct,' said Soames, who was tiring of this.
I took a page from the prosecution disclosure and handed it to the clerk.
'Look at this document, please. This is the arrest record. Arresting officer was
patrolman Jacobs?'
'Correct,' said Soames.
'And both defendants were arrested on a single charge?'
'Yes,' said Soames, wary now of where this might lead.
Time to take him out.
'According to the record, patrolman Jacobs arrested both defendants for
murder. Might that be where they got the idea that their father was dead?' Soames swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. 'You can't be arrested for murder unless there's a dead body, right?'
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
'Detective, there is precious little evidence against these defendants. You and the prosecutor are clutching at thin straws trying to make a case, isn't that what's really happening here?'
Soames cleared his throat, took a sip of water, leaned toward the mic and said, 'No, sir.'
Soames had taken the hair from deep in the wound on Frank Avellino's chest. The hair-fiber expert and Detective Tyler would have more to say about it, but I just needed to cover my bases with Soames.
'You testified that you removed a strand of hair from a wound in the victim's chest, detective. You are not a hair-fiber analysis expert, are you?'
'No sir, we have Professor Shandler for that.'
'Good. Nothing further.'
Dreyer didn't try and repair any of the damage, not that there was much he
could have done. It did look to me like the DA was scrabbling for any scrap of evidence that tended to show guilt – anything that could be spun in the prosecution's favor was going to be thrown at us along with the kitchen sink.
'The People call Detective Isiah Tyler,' said Dreyer.
Soames left the witness stand and exchanged nothing more than a look with Tyler. It was a warning. Be careful. Tyler was much younger than Soames, and more hot-headed. More easily led into an ambush by a clever lawyer.
Tyler dressed all in black, as befitted the occasion. Shirt, tie, suit, shoes. He took the oath and got comfortable in the witness stand.
'Detective Tyler, you carried out investigations in relation to the victim and his family?' asked Dreyer.
'I did,' said Tyler. 'My partner and I shared the workload on this case. It so happened that I took a call from a lawyer named Mike Modine, the night of the murder. A Saturday. He told me that he had an appointment to see the victim on Monday to discuss a change to the victim's will.'
'Did you obtain a copy of the victim's will?'
'I did. The executor of the will is Hal Cohen. Mr. Cohen was the campaign manager and friend of the victim. He provided a copy of the last will to me. It's marked Exhibit 6 in the bundle.'
There was downtime while the jury, who now had cause to open the papers in front of them, flicked to the correct exhibit and began reading.
'This will is five years old now, is that right?' asked Dreyer. He was leading the witness, but I didn't object. It wasn't prejudicial and he was moving things along.
'That's right. The will was made in 2014 at Mr. Modine's offices.'
'What is the effect of this will, detective?'
'The will leaves some charitable donations totaling a million dollars, and then
the remainder of the deceased's estate is divided equally between his daughters, Alexandra and Sofia Avellino.'
'Were you able to ascertain the value of Frank Avellino's estate?'
'Yes, Mr. Cohen had been given a valuation for tax purposes. The total estate is forty-nine million dollars. After taxes are paid, and the charitable donations performed, the residue of the estate totals forty-four million dollars.'
There was a wolf whistle from someone in the crowd behind us. The judge mustn't have heard it because he didn't remonstrate with the people in the gallery. There were more than a few whispers, murmurs and intakes of breath at that figure. Even some from the jury. That was a shitload of money by anyone's standards.
'Now, we know from Mr. Modine's call that the deceased wished to make changes to his will. And had arranged to meet Mr. Modine on Monday morning for those purposes. Do you know what changes were to be made?'
'I can't say for certain. However, we have reason to believe that the deceased was subject to undue influence at the time of his death.'
'What do you mean, undue influence?'
'Frank Avellino was being drugged, without his knowledge. We believe, from the type of drug used, the purpose was to exert some measure of control over
Mr. Avellino and his money.'
The jury leaned forward. I couldn't help looking at Sofia at this point. Her
hand was drawn across her open mouth, and she turned and gazed with hurt and pain at her sister. We'd told her about the theory, and the toxicology report. Hearing it from your lawyer was one thing, but listening to it going on the record in a public court was another.
Alexandra had her head down, her shoulders heaving as she wept.
Taking his time, Dreyer took Tyler through the results of the toxicology report, and explained it to the jury. Haloperidol was an antipsychotic drug that, administered in the right doses, rendered people docile, suggestible and easily controlled.
'Detective, you said the victim was drugged with this substance, but why do you say that? Could Frank Avellino have been taking this drug himself?'
'I don't believe so. His medical records show that this was not a drug which had been prescribed to him. Also, he had seen his family physician in the months leading up to his death as he had been experiencing symptoms that could have been early-onset dementia. This could also have been because the drugs in Mr. Avellino's system were producing the symptoms of dementia. The physician recommended an MRI scan for December. Mr. Avellino never made it that far.'
'If someone is administered Haloperidol without their knowledge, what does that suggest to you?' asked Dreyer.
'That someone wanted Frank Avellino under their control. They could have persuaded him to sign a power of attorney, say.'
A chill flooded through me. Dreyer was going somewhere with this that I hadn't foreseen. I turned to an exhibit page in the prosecution bundle and looked at the document again. Dreyer had been working his way up to this, and Tyler opened the door a little wider to let him in. Dreyer directed the jury and the witness to the same page.
'Detective, what is this document at Exhibit 228?'
'This is a power of attorney, executed on September fifteenth. It grants his appointed representatives power over all Mr. Avellino's property and affairs.'
'And who are the named representatives for Mr. Avellino?'
Tyler spoke slowly and carefully as he said, 'They are Mr. Hal Cohen, and Miss Alexandra Avellino.'
Frank Avellino
Journal Entry, September 15, 2018
I don't know what to believe anymore. Either I'm going crazy or someone is trying to kill me.
In a way, I kind of hope someone has taken out a contract on my life. That's preferable to me losing my
mind. I can deal with a contract. Jimmy can take care of it.
I spoke to Jimmy this morning and he said I was paranoid. No one would dare put out a hit on me. And
no crew would think of robbing me, not when I'm one of Jimmy's old friends. That shit just doesn't happen. An old man slipping into my goddamn dotage. I was convinced he was wrong. I'd hired a private investigator who was keeping an eye out for anyone following me. Hal thought it was a waste of time and money, but it made me feel better. The PI was a big guy named Bedford and he told me I wouldn't even see him. True enough, since he started two weeks ago, I hadn't seen him so far. That didn't help. I felt that maybe he wasn't watching me at all – maybe he was at home in bed watching TV, thinking I was just
another paranoid schmuck. But I knew it, I'd seen the biker watching me.
Then when I left the restaurant, I stood on the sidewalk and noticed my shoe was untied. I knelt down,
and goddamn it, I must've been down there ten minutes and I couldn't remember how to tie my shoe. I just knelt there on one knee, the laces in my hands, staring at my brown shoe until tears fell on the leather toecap.
I tucked the laces into the sides of the shoe and took a cab home. 10 p.m.
I wasn't hungry tonight. Just made myself a sandwich.
The soup Sofia made yesterday was still in the fridge. The stew Alexandra sent over from the deli sat
beside it. I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a glass of milk and watched the news. Feeling better tonight. My head is clearer, for the first time in days.
Call from the PI service. I told them Bedford hadn't been in touch with me by phone or text. No, I didn't know where he was – he'd told me that I wouldn't see him, for Christ sake. They are assigning a new operative in the morning.
Bedford is missing. There's a police appeal for information on the news.
I'm in bed now. Can't sleep. Headache that won't quit.
And a bad feeling in my stomach. I called Alexandra, left a message. Called Sofia and she picked up,
said she would come and see me tomorrow.