Leader of the Pack (Andy Carpenter) (18 page)

“Gin and tonic.”

Carmine did not ask the same of Iurato, but merely signaled to Gino, who mixed the drink at the bar, and handed it to Ryerson. “So, you wanted to see me?” Ryerson asked.

“I want you out,” Carmine said.

“I thought you had something new to tell me.”

“I’m prepared to buy you out.”

Ryerson laughed at the thought of it. “I represent money that can buy and sell you, Carmine. In fact, I’ve already bought you, or at least your company.” He never referred to Carmine’s operation as a family, always as a company. Ryerson then pointed toward Gino. “With the apparent exception of Mr. Bruni, here.”

“One way or the other, you’re out, Ryerson. So name a price.”

“You disappoint me, Carmine. I knew you were old, and basically a piece of shit, but I thought you were brighter than this.”

Carmine looked over at Gino, who walked over to the door and knocked on it. Moments later it opened, and two men walked in, carrying handguns. The other door to the room opened as well, revealing a third armed man.

“You should have named a price,” Carmine said, then turned to Gino and said, “Kill them.” He then indicated Iurato. “Take your time with him.”

But nobody moved or said anything. Not Gino, nor Ryerson, nor Iurato, nor the three gunmen. “Do it now,” Carmine said, and when everyone remained still, the truth of the matter dawned on him.

“You son of a bitch,” he said to Gino. “Where is your loyalty?”

Ryerson laughed. “You’re living in the dark ages, Carmine. He’s an employee; employees go where the money is. That’s the way the world works. A guy works for IBM, and Apple offers him twice as much money, you think he’s going to stay at IBM because he’s loyal?

“This was the company you built, but I run it now. You could have stayed on as chairman emeritus.” He paused and chuckled at the thought. “And now you’re about to be very emeritus.”

Just before he walked out the door, Ryerson said to Iurato, “The most important thing is to make sure he is never found.”

I hate cross-examining Pete Stanton.

I’ve probably had to do it seven or eight times, and I think I’ve more than held my own, but I hate the process. We’re always adversaries, and it’s my job to make him look bad. I obviously don’t like it, because he’s my friend.

I do it though, and friendship has to take a backseat, because of what his job is. His job is to put my clients in prison, very often for the rest of their lives.

Dylan takes Pete through pretty much the same testimony he gave during the first trial. It’s basically a scene setter, describing Pete’s arrival at the Solarno house, and the actions he took while there. Most of the specific evidentiary factors that led to Joey’s being arrested will be told through other witnesses, so in that sense, there’s nothing for me to attack.

He does bring up the fact that Joey’s fingerprints were on the scene, and more importantly on the gun, which was found on the scene. It’s the gun that killed Karen Solarno, and which belonged to her. The weapon that killed Richard has never been found. In any event, the print evidence is certainly an area I can’t let go unchallenged when I start my cross-examination.

Pete also reads from a statement Joey made to police before I was brought into the case. There is no way Joey’s previous attorney should have allowed him to be interviewed; it’s virtually legal malpractice to have done so.

In the interview, Joey had said that he did not own a gun, and couldn’t remember the last time he had fired one. It’s a statement that came back to haunt him, and will do so again.

“Lieutenant Stanton, what was your rank when the murder took place?” is how I start.

“I was a detective.”

“How many promotions have you had since then?”

“Two.”

“Congratulations.” I asked these questions to further demonstrate to the jury how long ago the crime took place, and to tell them that I consider Pete a good officer. This is because I’ll have very little to criticize about the actions he took; I’ll be going after the actions he didn’t take.

He doesn’t thank me for my congratulatory remark, but I won’t hold a grudge. “You said you found Mr. Desimone’s prints in the house and on the gun that killed Karen Solarno. You ran them against a database?”

“Yes.”

“Since not everyone’s prints are in those databases, how was it that Mr. Desimone’s happened to be there?”

“From his time in the Marines.”

“So he had never committed a prior crime?”

“Not that we know of.”

“Is your knowledge in this area somewhat incomplete?”

“Somewhat.”

“Had he ever been charged with a crime?”

“No.”

“That you’re sure of?”

“Yes.”

“Ever been arrested?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.” Pete is getting annoyed, but he’s too experienced a witness to show it to the jury.

“You said you found Mr. Desimone’s fingerprints in the house.”

“Yes.”

“Where in the house, specifically?”

“In the front foyer, the den, the living room, the kitchen, two bathrooms, and the bedroom.”

“Wow … that’s a lot of places. You’ve testified that the murder of Richard Solarno took place at the front door, and that of Karen Solarno in her bedroom. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So is your theory of the case that he murdered the Solarnos, and then ran around the house touching as many things as he could?”

“No.”

“Your report says that his fingerprints were on the microwave in the kitchen. Does your theory include his making some popcorn between murders?”

Dylan objects, and Hatchet sustains, admonishing me to be less argumentative. Good luck with that, Hatchet.

“His prints were also found on the gun, is that correct?” I ask, knowing that it is.

“Yes.”

“Who owned the gun?”

“It was registered to Karen Solarno.”

“And this is the same Karen Solarno that was having a relationship with Mr. Desimone?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“How long had she owned it?”

“Two months.”

“Let me offer a hypothetical,” I say. “Suppose she had shown Mr. Desimone the gun and he held it. Or suppose as a Marine marksman, she had asked him to take her out and teach her how to shoot it. Could his fingerprints have gotten on the gun that way?”

“There is no evidence that happened.”

I fake surprise. “There is no evidence that she ever handed him the gun to show it to him? Never said, ‘Look what I just got?’ or even asked him to help her buy it?”

“No.”

“I see. I hadn’t realized your investigation was that complete. Why don’t you show me a list of things she handed to him during their relationship, and if the gun’s not on it, we’ll know you’re right.”

Dylan objects and I withdraw the question. I’ve gotten other explanations in front of the jury, but the fingerprints on the gun is still the elephant in the already crowded room.

I point out to Pete that his report says that Joey and Karen Solarno were having an affair, which had lasted months. “Isn’t that a more logical explanation for how his prints got in the house? Or do you find that most people conducting extramarital affairs wear gloves?”

Dylan asks that we approach the bench, which gives Hatchet another chance to admonish me, and warn me to “be very careful.” He also tells me to move on, which I’m happy to do.

I tell Hatchet that I now plan to question Pete about the Montana connection, and other information Laurie developed about Solarno’s arms dealing, and which I turned over to Dylan in discovery. I was willing to do so because I wanted the police to then check it out and confirm it for the jury.

Dylan objects, saying that in cross I can only ask Pete questions relating to what Dylan asked on direct. “I never asked about the arms dealing,” Dylan says.

“You asked about his investigation; this is all part of that,” I say, and Hatchet has no choice but to allow it.

When I resume with Pete, I ask him to describe what he knows about Solarno’s arms dealing, including both the Montana group and other activities that Laurie discovered. He lays it out in some detail, making no effort to conceal. This is partly because he’s an honest guy, but mostly because he knows that I know all of it, and will nail him if he covers anything up.

When he’s finished, I say, “When did you learn all of this?”

“Within the past month.”

“Six years after the murders? Six years after Mr. Desimone was arrested?”

“Yes.”

“So you were not aware that the Montana State Police informed the District Attorney’s Office six years ago about threats on Richard Solarno’s life?”

“I was not.”

“Had you known that, would you have investigated it?”

“Yes. But I investigated it now, and there is no evidence that that group was involved in this case.”

“Lieutenant, is it true that the best evidence in a murder case is usually developed in the first seventy-two hours?”

“That is often the case.”

“Because trails can run cold?”

“Sometimes.”

“In six years they can get frozen, can’t they?”

Dylan objects, but I’ve made my point. I even think I’ve done so without making Pete look bad, but he’ll probably have a different view of that.

Carmine Desimone had put pressure on Ryerson.

Not unbearable pressure. Not game-changing pressure. Not even enough to make him change the plan, at least not so far.

But he felt the pressure. It was his plan; he had recommended it, argued for it, and it was approved. Now it was up to him to execute it.

Technically, he could do so at any time. But to really do it right called for patience, which meant waiting for an event that was beyond anyone’s control. It was up to Mother Nature.

Ryerson smiled to himself; there’s never a natural disaster around when you really need one.

Carmine was stupid, so stupid that Ryerson had no idea how he had achieved his position in life. If there was one thing he should have learned by now, it’s that there was no one in the organization that he could trust to have his back.

But instead he trusted Bruni, and had in the process put himself into a position where he simply had to be killed. Not that he wouldn’t have been killed anyway, but Ryerson would have hoped it could have been done at a time of his choosing, in keeping with the plan.

Carmine, for all his stupidity, remained crucial to the operation. Whether alive or dead, he had a role to fill, and he would fill it perfectly.

He would be the person they would blame.

So all Ryerson could do was to be ready for all eventualities. He would have to make another trip to Peru, and would do so right away. He had been told that everything was ready, but wanted to make extra sure by seeing for himself.

There would be only one chance to get this right.

I wasn’t looking forward to Raymond Fisher’s testimony.

Now retired, Fisher was the director of the New Jersey State Forensics Laboratory at the time of the Solarno murders, and his words were a significant factor in Joey’s eventual conviction.

Fisher is a defense attorney’s nightmare. He comes off as sincere, even kindly, and with an apparent total knowledge of his field. This is because in real life he is sincere, kindly, and has a total knowledge of his field.

Jurors have no doubt that he is saying what he believes to be the truth, and recognize him as a person uniquely qualified to know that truth.

I barely laid a glove on Fisher during the first trial, and unless there is some divine intervention in the form of a list of new questions for me to ask him, I’m not going to do any better this time.

For once, Dylan takes the “less is more” approach to his witness, asking him questions concisely and directly, drawing out the meat of the matter but not weakening it through repetition. I suspect he does this because he’s anxious to see me strike out again in my attempt to challenge Fisher, and he’s even more anxious for the jury to see it.

Moving quickly through the forensic evidence that is basic to the murder, but has nothing to do with who committed it, Dylan gets to the heart of Fisher’s testimony. It’s a ski jacket, and Dylan asks Fisher if it is the one that was taken from Joey’s apartment during a lawful search of the premises.

“Yes, it is,” says Fisher.

“Did you conduct any tests on it?”

Fisher nods. “We did. We tested for blood and gunpowder residue.”

“And what did you find?’

“No blood, but definite traces of gunpowder. The pattern clearly indicates that someone wearing this jacket fired a weapon.”

“Is it possible to determine what kind of gun it was?”

“Not from examining the jacket, no.”

“What about when it was fired?”

Fisher thinks for a moment, as if the question is new and intriguing, which it certainly isn’t. “Hard to say. It would depend on how much the jacket was worn in the interim, in what weather, etcetera. But I would certainly say it was fired sometime within a week of the examination.”

Dylan turns him over to me, no doubt with pleasure. My first question is, “Dr. Fisher, did you conduct the tests on the jacket yourself?”

“No, members of my—”

I cut him off, asking Hatchet to instruct the witness to answer “yes or no” questions with yes or no. Hatchet obligingly tells him not to volunteer information, to answer only the questions asked.

I repeat the question, and Fisher says, “No, I didn’t conduct the tests myself.”

“Were you in the room, or looking over the shoulder, of the person conducting the test while he or she was doing so?”

“No.”

“Did you see the jacket when it was in the lab?”

“I did not.”

“Were you in Mr. Desimone’s apartment when it was taken?”

“I was not.”

“Yet you identified it when Mr. Campbell asked if it was the same one.”

“I have full confidence in my colleagues.”

“If they were here, maybe the jury could have made that judgment for themselves.”

Dylan barely has time to finish his objection before Hatchet sustains it and warns me to be careful.

“So, basically, Dr. Fisher, you’re just here to report on someone else’s work?”