Capture (Butch Karp Thrillers) (45 page)

Karp picked up the apple from the ledge and waited for the jurors to digest what he’d said. When he saw that every eye was on him, waiting for him to deliver the final blow, he nodded and pointed at Maplethorpe, who sank down in his chair.

“I don’t have to tell you who killed Gail Perez, because the defendant already did. Take him at his word and don’t let him make her a victim twice: once by taking her life, depriving her sister and friends of the beauty of her smile and the warmth of her companionship, and twice by besmirching her character. When you deliberate you will find the apple in that crate of oranges and return to this courtroom with the only just verdict. In this case, good conscience commands, common sense dictates, justice cries out for a verdict of murder. Thank you.”

Returning to his seat, he handed the apple back to Kenny Katz. “Here’s your snack, Counselor,” he whispered. “See if you can put it to better use.”

“Are you kidding?” Katz said under his breath. “I was just wondering if it’s possible to have an apple bronzed.”

S
NOW BEGAN TO FALL AS THE SMALL GROUP OF MOURNERS,
gathered around the grave at the St. Joseph of Carmel Catholic Cemetery in Queens, began to break up and go their separate ways. It was just a few days before Christmas and Stewart Reed’s mother and a few friends watched as he was laid to rest for a second time, next to his father and plots reserved for his mother and sister, who’d written to Karp from Iraq saying, “It’s nice to get a reminder of what my troops and I are fighting for.”

Stewbie’s mom had burst into tears when she saw Karp arrive. But as she explained with a hug, they were tears of gratitude and joy. Her son would rest in ground consecrated by the Roman Catholic Church, as his death was no longer considered a suicide.

The Reed case had officially been ruled a homicide. Swanburg’s autopsy findings had been spot-on and were basically rubber-stamped by the chief medical examiner. All that remained was bringing to justice one of the men—the other was dead—who’d conspired to murder Reed.

Karp looked at his watch. Right about then, Kenny Katz would be representing the People at the arraignment of F. Lloyd Maplethorpe for the murder of Reed and attempted murder of Carmina Salinas.

It was a slam-dunk case. Former assistant medical examiner
Kip Bergendorf was singing like a canary. And a key discovered by Fulton in Gregor Capuchin’s apartment had fit a safety deposit box at a bank in the Bronx. The box yielded a small vial of what proved to be a deadly neurotoxin and a tape recorder with two conversations between the killer and one F. Lloyd Maplethorpe. Apparently, the Russian either didn’t trust Maplethorpe or, as Fulton suspected, was into blackmail as well as murder for hire.

The jury had deliberated for less than three hours. When they returned with a guilty verdict, Maplethorpe had fainted, causing his supporters to begin shrieking hysterically.

As soon as Maplethorpe was revived and order restored, Rosenmayer thanked the jurors and released them from their duty. The judge then remanded the defendant pending sentence and added,
“Is there anything else before we adjourn?”

Karp nodded to Kenny Katz, who rose and announced that Maplethorpe was being charged for murder and attempted murder. The producer fainted again, and those of his followers who remained simply sank into their seats and moaned.

As Leonard left the courtroom, the press asked him if he’d be representing Maplethorpe in the new case.
“Hell, no,”
he’d exclaimed with a laugh.
“I’m going home to Montana to lick my wounds. My client has struck me with a pitcher of water and stabbed me with a pen. I’m afraid I might not survive another round of this. I need a rest.”

At last, Karp found something to agree with Leonard about. He was looking forward to a rest as well. After the funeral, he and the twins were heading to the airport to fly to New Mexico, where the family would spend the Christmas holiday.

Fortunately, Zak and Giancarlo were back on best-friends status. Zak’s help in solving the riddles had given him a much-needed confidence boost. He’d even told his brother it was okay if he went to the Winter Dance with Elisa Robyn. However, the girl had apparently grown tired of the twins’ squabbling and decided to go with Joey Simon instead.

“I can’t believe she’d rather go with that weasel-faced nerd than you,”
Zak had commiserated.

“Unbelievable,”
Giancarlo agreed.

When he heard that Ned’s future in-laws were coming for the holidays, the president of the Taos Chamber of Commerce, who was also the owner of the luxurious Kit Carson Taos Inn, arranged for the Karp family to stay in the presidential suite. The boys were looking forward to learning to snowboard at the Taos Ski Resort. But Karp planned to avoid the slopes, sit by the fire, read a good book, and maybe chase Marlene around a bit in the privacy of their suite. He and Marlene were also looking forward to long conversations and celebrating Christmas and Chanukah as a family, with the added pleasure of Vladimir and Ivgeny Karchovski for company.

As Karp walked away from the grave, his cell phone rang. He happened to look up as he pulled it out of his pocket and saw Alejandro and Carmina watching him from across the snow-covered ground. He’d been surprised to see them at the funeral.
“I just felt a closeness to him and wanted to pay my respects,”
she’d said. Now she buried her head in Alejandro’s chest as Karp answered his phone.

“Yeah, Kenny, what’s up?”

F. Lloyd Maplethorpe was just another number in the New York penal system as he shuffled along in a line with other prisoners making their way across the Bridge of Sighs, a raised walkway that connected the Tombs to the Criminal Courts Building. The bridge had been nicknamed for the millions of prisoners who had passed over and sighed at what was often their last glimpse for a while at the world beyond their cells.

Maplethorpe’s line came to a stop to allow prisoners coming the other way to file out onto the bridge. Like maggots, dark thoughts crawled around in his brain as his cuffed hands jerked against the belly chain to which they were attached. The memory of alcoholic parents who’d fought constantly, and of when his mother left one cold winter night, how she’d pushed him away.

“Look, Mommy, I’m a cowboy.”

“Get away from me, you little freak.”

And a more recent memory, one with the face of Gail Perez pleading for her life.

“Stop it, what are you doing? I want to leave.”

“No one leaves me, whore!”

“Put that gun away. Please don’t!”

“Suck on this, bitch!”

Maplethorpe giggled as the two lines of men began to pass each other. Suddenly, a man from the opposite line attacked a prisoner six men back from Maplethorpe. As detention officers jumped in to break them up, other prisoners crowded around to watch.

Wanting to get as far as he could from the fray, Maplethorpe turned and tried to walk but found his way blocked by a large Hispanic man. The man looked down at him and said, “I have a message for you from the Inca Boyz.”

Maplethorpe felt three hard blows to the right side of his belly. He looked down and saw a growing dark patch in his gray jump-suit; something warm and wet was flowing down his leg. When he looked back up, the man was gone and a space had opened up around him.

He fell to the hard floor and lay there as men shouted. A pair of shiny black shoes and the pant leg of a guard’s uniform entered his field of vision, which began to dim.
They’re all leaving me,
he thought.
Nobody leaves me.
And then he was gone.

At the cemetery, Karp flipped his cell phone closed. He hesitated to look up. He didn’t want to see Alejandro’s eyes and reveal the truth about what Katz had just told him.

Still, he had to look. But Alejandro and Carmina were walking away as snow continued to fall.