“Such as?”
“It turns out there’s no video from the back staircase on the night of the murder. That in itself is no big deal. The cameras were on a circuit, and that circuit was out. But there’s video from the day before. Those cameras all went out just before the suspect went up with the pizza.”
“Why would he put the cameras out and then take the elevator?”
“Clearly he wouldn’t. Which brings up the possibility of another perpetrator.”
Dino grinned. “Are you trying to get back at me for pointing out the evidence of the robbery?”
The detective flushed. “No, sir. Like I said, I’m pointing out another area in which I was deficient.”
“I’m kidding, Detective. This is excellent work, and I appreciate you bringing it to me. Are you saying with the cameras out it would have been possible for someone to get in and out of the building without being seen?”
“Yes, sir. There’s cameras in the elevators and main stairwells, but not in the penthouse hallway. If someone got into the back stairway, they could have gone right into the apartment without being seen.”
“It’s a theory, but it’s just a theory.”
“It’s more than that. The cameras didn’t just go out. Someone cut the feed. The feed was cut in the garage, from which there’s also access to the back stairwell. If someone got into the garage and took out the cameras, they could go right up and no one would know.”
“Could they get into the garage without being seen?”
“Yes, sir, I checked it out. The cameras are aimed at the cars. A person on foot could get in hugging the wall and avoid the cameras all the way back to where the wire was cut.”
“What’s to stop someone from doing that?”
“The attendant. It’s a manned garage. The attendant at the entrance would stop anyone on foot.”
“How many attendants?”
“Just one. It’s a private garage, for the tenants in the building. He’s not renting space, he’s just there to wave off cars that don’t belong.”
Dino frowned. “Interesting.”
“Anyway, I thought you should know.”
“You thought right, Detective. Who knows about this?”
“No one. I reported directly to you.”
“Anything you get, report directly to me. Let’s keep this from the media if we can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now that we know what we’re looking for, are there any video cameras on the street that would show the entrance to that garage?”
“Apparently there are two. Neither is from a great angle. One is across the street and down the block. The other is on the same side as the garage and shooting diagonally across. It would show people approaching the garage, but not going in. I have detectives reviewing the footage from the day of the murder now.”
“Good. As soon as you get something, let me know.”
Dino sat at his desk, thinking. What the detective had told him put a whole new spin on everything. It was possible that someone other than the sneak thief had been at Herbie’s apartment that night. And just like that, Tommy Taperelli was back in the mix.
Could Tommy Taperelli’s boys have killed Yvette? If that were true, things might suddenly make sense. It could explain why Herbie had been acting so strange lately, telling Stone not to cross-examine the witness.
Could Tommy Taperelli be putting the pressure on Herbie? He’d put the pressure on James Glick so badly he’d run. At least, that was the supposition. If that were true, it would go a long way toward proving he was doing the same to Herbie. And that he’d possibly killed Yvette Walker.
Dino snatched up the phone and called the officer he’d put in charge of tracing James Glick. “Carlson, it’s Dino. Where was our runaway lawyer last spotted?”
Tommy Taperelli WAS also monitoring James Glick’s movements. People didn’t run out on Tommy Taperelli and live to tell of it. Tommy Taperelli had his own national network, perhaps not as extensive as Dino’s, but every bit as effective. And Tommy Taperelli’s boys actually had a big advantage over Dino’s. They didn’t have to bother about warrants, or extradition. They didn’t have to bother about Miranda, or habeas corpus, or probable cause. They only had to bother about not getting caught. Otherwise, as soon as they found James Glick, they were done.
So was he.
86
James Glick spotted them from the glass elevator he was riding down from his tenth-floor room in the Hyatt Regency. They were at the front desk checking the registration. At least that’s what it looked like. One guy was distracting the desk clerk while the other was surreptitiously checking out the register. He could swear the guy was leaning over the counter to look at the computer screen.
And there he was, in a glass elevator, heading right into their arms.
He flailed out his hand, pressed a floor at random. Mezzanine. That was good. Anything that wasn’t Lobby.
He got off the elevator and leaned over the mezzanine balcony to get a closer look.
These guys were different. They didn’t look like the guys he had been mistaking for goons ever since he got on the Amtrak express. These were the real thing. They looked tough, mean, and they carried themselves differently, with the effortless authority that came with power.
And they didn’t have suitcases. A dead giveaway. He’d realized that after getting a few funny looks himself. After that he’d bought a carry-on suitcase to blend in. But these guys clearly didn’t care.
James Glick knew he was just being stupid. It was the same thing all over again. These guys would turn out to be businessmen there for a convention. They’d left their suitcases in their car while they checked in. And they wouldn’t take the elevator to the tenth floor to check on him, they’d get off on six, where they were staying.
He watched them get into the glass elevator and tried to tell himself it was just his imagination. Then one guy stooped to tie his shoe, and his jacket fell open, revealing his shoulder holster.
James Glick shrank back in horror. As soon as the elevator passed the mezzanine, he ran to it and watched the floor indicator. Sure enough, they got off at the tenth floor.
James Glick was breathing hard. There was an exit door at the end of the corridor. He pushed it open, thundered down a flight of stairs, ran out the door of the Hyatt, and hailed a cab.
87
Herbie called Stone on his way back from Strategic Defenses.
“What’s going on?”
“They broke for lunch.”
“How did it go with the detective?”
“Fine. He’s off the stand.”
“What did he say?”
“He said no one told him David would be at the party, he heard drugs were being sold there, and when he checked it out the person selling them was David.”
“What did you do?”
“I challenged him with his previous testimony, got him to admit he was mistaken, and asked him what other portions of his testimony he was unsure of.”
“I told you to let him go.”
“I let him go. I just didn’t do it with a pat on the back.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“Why did you ask him the question in the first place?”
“Oh. Well, he’s framing my client, so he’s lying about everything. And he’s not too careful about it, because Taperelli’s pulling the strings and the case is a slam-dunk. So I went over the transcript to see if he had made any stupid mistakes. Sure enough, right off the bat he says he was acting on intel David Ross was selling drugs at the party, which is total bullshit. No one told him David was at the party. He probably didn’t even know about the party. In all likelihood he was following David around looking for a place to set him up. The party seemed like a good bet. So who told him David Ross would be at the party is a tough question to answer, because nobody did.”