Ricochet

Chapter 18

JUDGE LAIRD PACED THE LIMITED SQUARE FOOTAGE OF THE SVU office, wearing a path in the ugly maroon carpeting and muttering affirmations to himself that his wife was alive. He also launched into periodic tirades about the sluggish pace and general ineptitude with which the police investigation was being conducted.

He demanded immediate answers to questions to which no one had answers. He refused to accept honest replies such as, “We don’t know, but we’re doing all we can to find out.”

Unfortunately DeeDee had been put in charge of him.

After cordoning off a larger section of the bridge to include the carrier and the ladder leading down to it, DeeDee had accompanied Bill Gerard and the judge back to police headquarters, while Duncan and Worley stayed behind to coordinate the investigation, which would involve several other law enforcement agencies.

She resented that they’d have all the fun, while she’d been assigned what amounted to baby-sitting duty. But Captain Gerard had issued the order, and he’d been in no mood for argument.

Actually she would have felt sorry for Judge Laird, had he not been such a total bastard. Rarely did he address a question directly to her. Any unsolicited conjecture or suggestion she made was ignored. He tolerated her, barely, and only because he must.

The Cato Lairds of the world, good ole boys that custom-tailored suits couldn’t disguise, underscored the insecurity that had been instilled in her by her parents, particularly her father. The judge’s disdain reduced her achievements to mediocrity and insignificance. He made her feel as her father had, like a tinfoil star trying to replace the solid-gold one her older brother had been.

It also had fallen to her to question the judge about his activities before being notified of Napoli’s murder in his wife’s car, and to ask what he knew of her activities during that same time period.

That was the shittiest aspect of this shit detail.

He was frenetic. He could sit still for only a few minutes at a stretch. He was easily distracted by anyone who came into or left the unit. Every time a telephone rang, which was often, his reflexes went into overdrive.

When she did manage to hold his attention, he either answered her questions with dramatized resignation or took umbrage, although she went out of her way to be tactful.

“When was the last time you saw Mrs. Laird?”

“About nine thirty or so. We’d had dinner. Elise wanted to turn in early. That being the case, I asked if she would mind if I went to the country club. A poker tournament had commenced last Saturday night. I knew some of my friends would be playing last night.”

“Given her insomnia, it’s unlike Mrs. Laird to go to bed early, isn’t it?”

“She’d bought a sleep aid that she hoped would help her rest.”

“Do you usually play poker on a work night, so to speak?”

“No, but we were both upset and needed something to take our minds off the interrogation that was scheduled for the morning.”

“Why was the prospect of that upsetting?”

“Detective Hatcher advised us to bring our attorney with us. He made it sound as though Elise was a criminal.”

“We had more questions about her relationship with Coleman Greer.”

“Elise gave you a full explanation of their relationship.”

For the time being, DeeDee let that pass and moved on. “Did you speak with Mrs. Laird by telephone, or have any contact with her, after you left the house yesterday evening?”

“No. In the hope that the sleep medication was working, I didn’t want to disturb her by calling.”

“I doubt she took that medication, Judge. We know she didn’t sleep.” She didn’t let his fulminating look prevent her from pressing on. “What was she wearing when you last saw her?”

“A skirt and sleeveless top. You know this, Detective Bowen. I recognized the scrap of fabric that your partner found on the carrier. It was from Elise’s skirt.”

“You’re sure? Most husbands wouldn’t notice or remember-”

“I’m not most husbands,” he said icily. “The skirt was new. I’d just brought it home to her as a gift. She had tried it on for me.”

“Did she have on the sandals with the turquoise stones?”

“She was barefoot.”

“For dinner?”

“We had dinner on trays in the bedroom.”

“I see. Mrs. Berry served you there?” He nodded. “What time did she leave?”

“I heard her tell Captain Gerard that she left around ten thirty.”

“After you, then.”

“Correct. She wanted to make certain that Elise didn’t need her.”

“Sometime after Mrs. Berry left, your wife put on her shoes and left the house in her car.”

“We don’t know the circumstances under which she left,” he said. “She could have been forced from the house.”

“Maybe, but according to Captain Gerard, who was at your house, there was no sign of a struggle, forced entry, nothing like that. We can rule out robbery because Gerard said you’d found her jewelry, wedding ring, and ear studs-sizable diamonds in both-on her dressing table.”

“That’s right.”

“So it looks like she dashed out in a hurry, doesn’t it? I mean, not even remembering to put on her wedding ring. And that’s a ring you wouldn’t likely leave behind unless you were really rattled.”

The judge stayed stonily silent, while DeeDee tapped her pencil against the legal pad on which she’d been jotting down notes. “Do you have any idea where your wife might have gone, Judge?”

“If I did, don’t you think I’d be looking for her there?”

“Does she have friends or family-”

“No.”

“Nobody she might have decided to go visit, even on the spur of the moment?”

He shook his head. “Not without telling me.”

She didn’t tell you about her visits with Coleman Greer, DeeDee thought peevishly. Tired of all the pussyfooting around, she cut to the chase. “Do you think she had an appointment with Meyer Napoli tonight?”

He leaned in close to her, his features rigid with rage. “Is this the way you solve crimes, Detective Bowen? You hound a victim’s loved ones with silly questions and draw asinine conclusions?”

Probably he didn’t expect an answer, but she gave him one. “Sometimes. You’d be surprised what witnesses know that they don’t know they know. I toss out possibilities to see if anything sticks. Often something does, and it can be that seemingly unimportant, silly fact that ultimately solves the case.”

He looked around impatiently as though searching for someone to come to his rescue. Gerard had disappeared; DeeDee assumed he was in his office. A few other detectives were milling around, trying to look busy, but actually drawn to the excitement as moths to a flame.

The judge said, “I know the importance of being thorough and precise, Detective Bowen. After all my years on the bench, I realize that crime-solving nuggets can be pried from the memory of a witness. But I know only what I’ve told you. Repeatedly,” he stressed.

She flipped back a sheet of the legal tablet so she would have a fresh page on which to take notes. “May I continue?”

And so it had gone for a grueling hour and a half. Finally, believing he had nothing else that he was able or willing to tell her, she released him to do his pacing and haranguing.

She used a phone outside the SVU to place a call to the manager of the Silver Tide Country Club. She woke up his wife, who woke him up after DeeDee identified herself and conveyed the urgency of the call. From him she got phone numbers for the club’s parking valet and bartender who’d been on duty that night.

She called them at their respective residences. Neither was happy to be called at this hour, especially after having worked a long shift. But both confirmed to her that the judge had arrived at the club shortly before ten o’clock and joined a spirited poker game. He hadn’t left until he was notified by police that Mrs. Laird’s car had been found on the narrow shoulder of the Talmadge Bridge with a dead man inside.

“When he was told that there was no sign of her, he freaked,” the bartender told DeeDee.

“I can imagine.” She asked the names of those with whom the judge had been playing cards all evening. It was a star-studded lineup of movers and shakers, including the district attorney.

If indeed it turned out that Elise Laird had met Meyer Napoli for no honest purpose, while the judge was enjoying a night of poker and single-malt scotch, he would have a lot to live down. He would look even more a fool for love than before. Some political enemies, and possibly even loyal supporters, might question whether such a fool should be chief judge of superior court.

The professional repercussions of this situation might account for some of his crankiness.

Gerard reappeared to check on how the judge was holding up, and also to ask DeeDee to notify Napoli ’s secretary of her boss’s demise and see about contacting his next of kin.

Upon hearing the news, the secretary lapsed into hysteria. It surprised DeeDee that Napoli could evoke that much emotion-except perhaps fury or repulsion-from another human being. Once she had calmed down, the secretary explained that Napoli had no relatives that she knew of and agreed to go to the morgue in the morning to identify his body.

She also demanded to know what was being done to track down the “monster” who’d shot him. DeeDee assured her that homicide detectives were on the case to do just that.

The sky was turning gray with approaching dawn and DeeDee was on her third six-pack of Diet Coke when Duncan and Worley trudged in. Worley looked exhausted and glum. Duncan looked like something dug up from Colonial Cemetery next door.

They’d barely cleared the doorway when Laird pounced on them. “Well?”

“Get us some coffee, will ya?”

DeeDee was about to remind Worley that fetching his coffee wasn’t in her job description. But she took a closer look at Duncan ’s haggard face and realized that he needed a pick-me-up, and needed it in a hurry. She went to pour two cups of coffee, but kept her ears tuned to what was being said.

“The GPA and DOT have agreed to give us the outside lane of the bridge for a while longer,” Worley said, referring to the Georgia Port Authority and the Department of Transportation. “They’re not happy about it. It’ll create a bitch of a traffic problem come morning rush hour, but we want that scene for as long as we can have it. Something may show up in daylight that we missed tonight.”

He gratefully took the Styrofoam cup of coffee from DeeDee. Duncan didn’t seem to notice the cup she extended to him until she nudged his shoulder. He looked at her blankly for several seconds, then reached for the coffee.

“Never mind the traffic jam,” Laird said. “What are you doing to locate Elise?” He addressed the question to Duncan.

“The canine unit has all the dogs out. They’re combing both banks of the river and Hutchinson Island.”

“That’s very limited. What about the other islands between here and the ocean?” the judge asked. “Are those being searched?”

No one wanted to tell him that rarely did a person make it as far as the mouth of the river. For all the accident victims and jumpers who had gone off the bridge, DeeDee knew of only one who had survived the fall. Usually a body surfaced within a few days, depending on the time of year and the temperature. It would show up somewhere along River Street or near the Corps of Engineers’ dock on Hutchinson Island, which divided that stretch of the river into two channels.

“We’ll expand the ground search as needed, Judge,” Gerard said diplomatically. “What else, Dunk?”

“An APB was issued with a physical description of Mrs. Laird, so that engages state troopers, this department, the sheriff’s office. The marine patrol is searching every channel of the river. The Coast Guard has already launched one craft,” he said. “It’s cruising the Atlantic coastline, but…”

But, again, rarely did a body make it that far before reappearing, DeeDee thought. If it got that far, it would probably be lost forever.

“Coast Guard will also have search-and-rescue teams in choppers,” Duncan said. “They’re being mobilized as we speak. We’ve had the department’s helicopters airborne almost since you left the bridge and came back here.” The update seemed to have sapped what energy Duncan had left. He paused to sip his coffee.

“I’ve heard that the main switchboard has been lit up with incoming calls,” Gerard said. “People have seen the helicopter searchlights moving along the river, want to know what’s going on.”

“I don’t care who it inconveniences,” Laird said. “Keep those helicopters in the air.”

“Of course.” Gerard looked frazzled and annoyed. The judge’s imperious attitude had worn thin. “I tell you this only because if citizens want answers, you can be sure the media does. Sooner or later we’re going to have to address the reporters who’ve assembled downstairs.”

“We had to fight our way through them when we came in,” Worley said. “Didn’t tell them anything, of course.”

“I’ve fielded a half dozen calls myself that have come into the unit here under the pretense of having information on Mrs. Laird,” Gerard continued. “The press knows it was Meyer Napoli who got popped on the bridge. Reporters also know that Mrs. Laird is somehow involved, but they don’t know how or to what extent. You should be thinking about how you want to handle that, Judge.”

Laird deflated and sat down heavily in the nearest chair. In a matter of seconds, the fight went out of him and he acquired the lost, vulnerable, and defeated bearing of a victim. He slumped forward and stared at the floor.

They gave him those moments. No one said anything. For once, even Worley was sensitive enough to keep his crude mouth shut.

Finally Judge Laird raised his head and looked at Duncan. “Did you find anything? Any clue to her whereabouts?”

“That scrap of fabric.” Duncan cleared his throat and combed his fingers through his hair. By the look of it, that wasn’t the first time it had been thoughtlessly pushed back in that manner. “You, uh, you said you thought it came from a skirt belonging to Mrs. Laird.”

“I don’t think, I know.”

DeeDee said, “We covered that. The skirt was new as of today. A gift from him.”

DeeDee couldn’t imagine why that would make Duncan look so pained, but it did. He actually winced. “We don’t know how it came to be on the carrier,” he said. “Forensics dusted the rungs of the ladder for prints, but with all the workers who’ve gone up and down it…” He let the sentence trail, again seeming to have run out of steam.

“Any trace of the other sandal?”

Duncan shook his head. “No sign of it or of anything else belonging to her. As soon as it’s light, the department’s dive team will…will begin their search.”

The sound that came from the judge was very much like a dry sob.

DeeDee saw Duncan glance at Worley, who had become busy engraving a pattern onto his Styrofoam cup with his fingernail, his way of relinquishing this unpleasant duty to Duncan.

“What came to our attention that we didn’t notice earlier,” Duncan continued, “is that her sandal probably wasn’t removed voluntarily. The strap was still buckled.”

DeeDee said, “The sandal could be slipped on and off without unbuckling the strap. I’m almost sure.”

He nodded. “But the heel strap was torn out of the sole.”

Gerard asked, “How could that happen, Dunk?”

He rolled his shoulders as though they ached. “It would have taken some force, I think.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but it said enough, more than any of them wanted to address.

Duncan seemed to be finding it difficult to speak. DeeDee never remembered that happening before, not even when he’d had to notify a crime victim’s next of kin that the most horrendous fate imaginable had befallen his or her loved one.

“We’re checking the marks on the pavement against the heels on Napoli ’s shoes,” he said, “but what it looks like is that he and Mrs. Laird engaged in some sort of struggle near the wall.” He spoke directly to the judge. “Maybe he stepped on the back of her sandal, causing the strap to break. Just because I found that piece of fabric on the carrier doesn’t mean that’s where it was ripped from her skirt. It could’ve drifted down there after being torn off during a struggle on the bridge.”

“Maybe over possession of the weapon,” Worley said, finally making a contribution. Everyone’s attention shifted to him. “We haven’t found Napoli ’s pistol, but we’re working under the assumption that he was shot with it. However, Judge, if you’d inventory your guns as soon as you get home, we would appreciate it.”

The judge bristled. “Are you suggesting that Elise left home, armed with a pistol, for a meeting with Meyer Napoli?”

“She was trained in how to use a handgun,” DeeDee remarked, since it seemed she was the only cop in the room with balls enough to mention that. “Isn’t that what we were told?”

The judge turned to her, his eyes fierce with anger. “Yes, that’s what you were told. You were also told that she agreed to the training at my insistence. She didn’t like handling guns. She wouldn’t have taken one from home.”

“If you can account for all the handguns you own,” Duncan said, “and I’m betting you can, then we could rule out that Napoli was shot with a weapon belonging to you. In the meantime, we’re going on the assumption that it was his gun that killed him.”

“During a struggle over it outside the car, near the wall of the bridge?”

“That’s one theory,” Worley said in reply to Gerard’s question. “It’s only conjecture at this point.”

“Conjecture,” the judge said heatedly. “But you have no idea what actually happened, do you?”

“One thing we know,” Worley said, matching the judge’s testiness, “is that at some point one or both of them were in the backseat.”

“The backseat?”

Worley was too busy looking smug over the point he’d scored to reply, leaving Duncan to explain. “Baker’s guys collected grains of some compound from the floorboard carpet. Driver’s seat, passenger seat, backseat.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What compound?”

“We can’t be positive till we get the lab to confirm it, but it looks like ordinary cement,” Worley said. He rubbed his fingers together. “Ground up to dust, like. We called the morgue and asked Dr. Brooks’s assistant to check Napoli ’s shoes. He confirmed there were traces of some gray stuff on the soles. Looks like gritty powder with chunks in it.

“And the same stuff was on the sole of Mrs. Laird’s sandal,” he went on. “Meaning, as I said, that one or both of them were in the backseat as well as the front.” He paused for effect. “If the lab can determine for sure what this stuff is, and give us a guess as to its origin, it might point us to where Napoli and Mrs. Laird linked up.”

Duncan dragged a hand down his face, catching DeeDee’s attention. She’d never seen him this shaken, not even after they’d left the most horrible of horrible homicides. She wondered, not for the first time, about the depth of his attraction to Elise Laird.

He wasn’t comporting himself like an objective policeman investigating a case. Naturally he would be concerned about the fate of any citizen who had disappeared from a crime scene where another individual had died. But he seemed to be inordinately upset by this crime scene in particular.

She stared at him long enough for him to sense it. When he looked over at her, she mouthed, Are you all right? He mouthed, Just tired, and went back to listening to Worley as he addressed Laird’s exception to his terminology.

“When I said ‘linked up,’ I wasn’t implying anything illicit, Judge. It was just a figure of speech.”

“Elise would not have agreed to meet that man. Especially alone. I’m sure he forced his way into her car.”

“Possibly,” Worley said behind a dry cough. “The car seems to be in perfect running condition. No flat tire, nothing like that. So we don’t know why they pulled over and stopped at the highest part of the bridge, when there are signs against parking posted every few yards. And then there’s the question of why they were headed back into the city, indicating that they’d been somewhere else and were returning. Any idea?”

“None.”

Worley continued, unfazed by the judge’s curtness. “We’ll ask for any possible eyewitnesses to come forward. Anyone who drove across the bridge ahead of that highway patrolman could have seen something. We can’t predict what an appeal to the public like that will yield. Ordinarily, it’s not much, but maybe this time will be an exception.”

Duncan said, “Detective Worley and I agree that at some point they got out of the car and were standing near the wall, but we don’t know why.”

“He was sitting on his business card,” DeeDee said. She explained to Judge Laird and Gerard that they’d found Napoli ’s business card in the driver’s seat when his body was removed. “It’s unlikely he would have been sitting on it unless he’d got out, then got back in.”

Duncan nodded. “We don’t know why they got out, but if we’re reading the signs right, an altercation of some sort took place there along the wall. This theory is borne out by the broken sandal, the fabric ripped from Mrs. Laird’s skirt, and the scuff marks on the pavement.”

“You’re thinking that Napoli was holding her at gunpoint?” Gerard said, asking for clarification.

“Again it’s conjecture, Bill, but that’s a distinct possibility,” Duncan said. “If we’re able to find Napoli ’s weapon and determine that it fired the fatal shot, then it becomes an even greater possibility.”

“How so?”

“Indications are that the pistol was fired from close range directly into his stomach, so more than likely he was facing the individual who shot him. But he was found sitting face forward behind the steering wheel of the car. In order to get a shot like that, the shooter would have had to reach around him from the side. That would be an awkward, to say nothing of inconvenient, angle for anyone either standing in the open door of the car or sitting in the passenger seat. That’s why we think maybe-and I emphasize maybe-that he was shot outside the car.”

“Was there an exit wound?” Gerard asked.

“No. First thing Dothan looked for when he removed the body. That’s why there was so little blood and Napoli caught most of it in his hands.” He paused, then summarized. “Worley and I think it’s possible that while they were wrestling over the pistol, it discharged. Clutching his wound, Napoli managed to get back into the car before he died.”

“But that doesn’t explain where Elise is,” the judge said, looking around wildly. “If…if it was as you described, then she was trying to protect herself, fighting for her life. Right? Maybe he was trying to push her…”

Worley coughed behind his hand again. “Possibly.”

Duncan looked ready to hurl chow.

The judge fell apart. “Oh Jesus! Where is she? What did he do to her?”

Given his emotional state, no one was brave enough to venture a guess. After a moment, Gerard walked over to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I urge you to go home, Judge. Wait there for further word.”

“I can’t leave. Something could turn up at any moment.”

“It could, and you will be notified immediately when it does. In the meantime, there’s nothing you can do here. The detective work from this point gets tedious. We’ll go over everything again among ourselves, but basically we’ll be waiting, too. Every law enforcement agency in the state is in on the search. As soon as she’s found-”

“Stop bullshitting me, Bill,” the judge said, angrily throwing off Gerard’s hand. “You think he pushed her from the bridge. You think she’s dead, don’t you?”

Gerard kept his expression impassive. “I go by what I know, not by what I think, and right now, we know precious little. I won’t consider her dead until I see her body. It could be that Mrs. Laird was traumatized by whatever happened on that bridge. She could be wandering around in a daze. Given everything that’s taken place this week, starting with Trotter, that would be understandable. When she’s found, or comes to her senses, she’ll return home. You want to be there if she finds her way back.”

That argument seemed to penetrate when no others had. Laird nodded absently and came slowly to his feet. He let himself be guided toward the door. “I’ll walk you down and have an officer drive you home and stay there with you,” Gerard said.

“Unnecessary.”

“No argument. Napoli had a lot of enemies, so most won’t be sorry he’s dead. But it’s possible he had an ally or two. In the unlikely event that he did, I’m taking no chances and neither is Chief Taylor. You’ll have police protection until we sort all this out.” He hesitated, then said, “It goes without saying that if you hear anything from Mrs. Laird, you’ll contact us without delay.”

The judge stopped and turned to him with a frown of consternation. “I would protect Elise with my own life,” he said. He made eye contact with each of the detectives in turn. “But I would also do the right thing.”