“Whether she knows of other Seneca Village descendants. If there are family names that survived the generations, and whether Verge is one of them, walking around with that little black angel.”
“Maybe St. Michael’s Church has records about All Angels’,” I said. “And you’ve got to set up some system to keep a daily tab on Jo. She may pick up more information out there from her homeless buddies, and we have no way to reach her.”
“A little respect and a lot to eat will go a long way with her. I’ll set up a twice-a-day check-in. She can stop at a fixer in the Park or wherever she is, and she’ll have my card so any cop anywhere can loop me in.”
“I’ll hunt down Mike and push the visit to Dalton, but first I’m going up to Jessica Pell’s chambers to have a face-off with her.”
“Not a good idea, Alex.”
“It wasn’t a great one of hers to stake out my driveway last night. Today’s Thursday, and her big threat was to take Mike down by tomorrow. I’m not expecting a physical confrontation. Her court officers and law secretary will be right outside the door.”
Mercer laughed. “I have no doubt you’d win if it was mud wrestling, but Pell’s on a mission.”
“So am I,” I said, with renewed anger because of the tenderness of last night.
“I’ll wait for Jo to clean up, then take her where she wants to go and get on top of Verge. But you have to promise me you’ll stay away from Pell, you hear?”
“I’ll do my best, Mercer.”
After we separated and I thought through Mercer’s admonition, I told Laura that I had to watch one of the assistants on trial. I respected the judgment of my friends, but it was my own conscience that was nagging at me.
I walked up to the DA’s squad on the south end of the ninth floor. Ever since the office had been established, the NYPD had staffed it with a team of detectives-more than forty of them-whose assignment was to work with prosecutors on investigations and witness interviews. Some of them took turns guarding Battaglia, and all were available to work with us on serious matters.
The small cluster of cubicles known as the wire room was one of the most sophisticated operations in law enforcement. Several detectives whose specialty was electronic surveillance were geniuses at installing video equipment pursuant to search warrants the lawyers obtained. I had partnered with them on scores of undercover operations-from a dentist who was abusing his sedated patients in his office to child molesters who had lured adolescents to meets at hotel rooms. They were the teams who had mastered the art of setting up wiretaps and bugs, bringing down everyone from financial scammers to drug dealers with international cartels.
The door to the equipment-filled room was open, and three of the guys had headphones on and were listening to playback.
“Got a minute?” I asked Artie Scanlon, who was seated closest to me.
“Sure. What do you need, Alex?”
“I have a witness coming in-total sleazebag-and Mercer Wallace won’t be there to second me. Would you wire me up? The inconsistencies are all over the map, and I just don’t want to get burned by being alone.”
“Easy enough. Got a case number, or is it something I’ve been working on already?” Scanlon stood up and reached on a shelf above him to pull down a small recording device that could be concealed inside the front of my silk blouse.
“One thirty-nine,” I said. It seemed as good a number as any.
“Do you need video? I got a camera that will fit over the button of your shirt,” he said while he checked the batteries in the audio device.
“I just need the voice, thanks.”
Scanlon handed me the tiny microphone and showed me how to clip it onto my bra. I turned around so that he could attach the control package to the rear waistband of my slacks.
“Flip that switch to activate when you’re ready to start and you’ll be good to go.”
“Thanks, Artie. I’ll have it back to you within the hour.”
I returned to my desk to pick up a file folder so that I looked like I had a legal matter to discuss with the judge.
“Mike wants you to call him,” Laura said.
“Will do when I get back. Have to go up to the fifteenth floor on a case.”
“I told him you’d get back to him right away. He thinks you two can get into the apartment of a Mrs. Dalton this afternoon.”
“Fine, Laura. Please just tell him I’ll meet him wherever he wants at two.” I reached for my blazer on the back of the door, to cover the bump on my waistband.
“I would have had your case file ready, Alex. Which one is it?” Laura was efficient and loyal and always ready to cover my back.
“Not to worry. Just something Battaglia asked me to do. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
I raced down the staircase and crossed the seventh floor to get to the elevators that fed into the main section of the courthouse. When the doors opened, defense attorneys and perps, girlfriends and rent-a-baby toddlers stepped back to make room for me.
Jessica Pell was in the middle of a calendar call when she saw me enter the crowded courtroom. She sat bolt upright and adjusted her robe over the lacy white camisole that showed beneath the opening.
I waited for a break between cases before I approached the court officer. “I don’t have anything scheduled today, but I’d like a brief appearance before the judge.”
“No problem, Ms. Cooper. I’ll tell the clerk to fit you in next.”
I waited while Pell listened to a bail application on a burglary case. She appeared to be distracted by my presence, trying to keep an eye on me while she responded to counsel. I sat in the front row and flipped on the recorder when the clerk called my name.
“Do you have a case before me, Ms. Cooper?” Pell asked, the right side of her mouth twitching occasionally when she addressed me.
“A matter to discuss, Your Honor.”
She rose to her feet and told the court officers she wanted to recess and take me in the robing room.
“I’d like this on the record, Judge Pell,” I said, well aware that she was not about to let me talk in open court.
Pell directed her question to the stenographer, pointed one of her long fingers-nails painted a deep burgundy-at the machine on which all the proceedings were memorialized. “You didn’t get that, did you? I’d like you to strike it if you did.”
The stenographer held up the narrow strip of paper with one hand and drew an X across the part where I had spoken.
“Follow me, Ms. Cooper.”
She came down from the bench, and one of the officers led us into the robing room, closing it behind us to ensure our privacy.
The corner of Pell’s mouth continued to twitch. “What problem brings you up here, Ms. Cooper?”
“You, Your Honor. The problem I have with you.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Not for a minute. There are a few things I was hoping to put on the record.”
“Not until I hear them first,” she said, walking behind the desk to put some distance between us. I had no doubt the microphone would pick up our conversation just fine in the empty room.
“I can begin by asking what you were doing at my apartment building last night.”
She put her palms on the desk as though to steady herself.
“I beg your pardon?”
Pell was stalling while she thought of what to say.
“Midnight or a little later. Waiting in your car at my front door.”
“That’s absurd. I don’t know anyone in your building. I don’t even know where you live,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “Listen to me-trying to defend myself against your ridiculous statements as though I had to. I was at home, Ms. Cooper. Now, take your accusations out of my courtroom and keep your mouth shut.”
“And what should I do with the photographs, Judge Pell? The pictures I took with my cell phone?” She was as easy to bluff as a six-year-old. “The JSC 421 plate.”
She lowered her voice, gritting her teeth and pointing her finger at me as though it was a talon. “You are about to find yourself in contempt, Ms. Cooper.”