At square one again, he thought morosely, as he drove into Saddle River, New Jersey.
He still had the bracelet. Oh, sure, he could get thirty thousand for it from the pawnshop even if it had been reported missing, but then he’d lose his one bargaining chip if he ever got caught doing a job again.
One big bargaining chip, he reminded himself.
But now it was time to make another score. He’d been hired as a window washer again. It wasn’t hard to get that job. People were having their fall cleanups, and for many that included their twice-a-year window washing.
He was on the third day at one of those big mansions in ritzy Saddle River. When he was doing the windows in the master bedroom, he had taken a quick look around. In one of the closets they had one of those joke safes, exactly like the one in Betsy Grant’s bedroom. It would be a cinch to open it.
Tony wasn’t sure he was going to do it, but just in case he disconnected one of the balcony doors outside the master bedroom from the alarm system.
But then his boss at the window-washing company asked him when he’d be finished. “Tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” Tony assured him.
“You’d better be. The family is going on a cruise and they don’t want anyone working in the house while they’re gone.”
Perfect timing, Tony thought. The stepladder that he always carried in his car was high enough to let him shimmy up to the balcony.
Of course they probably had security cameras all over a place like this. But when he got near the property, he’d stop and cover his license plates with a heavy cloth, and wear dark clothes and a ski mask. It was all in the planning. If the alarm went off, he’d be back on Route 17 before the cops had turned on the engine of a patrol car.
It was tricky. Tony knew that. But he loved the rush of satisfaction that came with beating the system. And if something went wrong, he could always use the bracelet to play Let’s Make a Deal.
He had waited over the weekend until late Monday night to be sure the family was bye-bye on the cruise, then at one in the morning gone back to the house. When he turned off the highway, he stopped to cover the license plates. Unaware that a patrol car was in the vicinity and observing his actions, he got back in the car and drove to the house he was planning to rob.
The driveway in front of the house was circular, but also continued around to a parking area in the backyard. Tony left his car back there and, carrying his ladder, cautiously made his way to the front of the house. There he unfolded the stepladder, climbed to the top and hoisted himself up onto the balcony. As he began to pick the door lock, a glaring spotlight was trained on him and a voice boomed through a loudspeaker ordering him to put his hands in the air and freeze.
50
At 1:15 A.M. on Tuesday Tony Sharkey, handcuffed in the back of a police car, was driven by the arresting officer to the Saddle River police station. He was taken to the booking area, where he went through a process very familiar to him. He was photographed, fingerprinted and asked the usual questions about his name, date of birth and address.
He was then walked down the hall to the Detective Bureau. Detective William Barrett was waiting for him.
“Mr. Sharkey,” he began, “I have been informed by the arresting officer that when you were given your Miranda warnings at the scene, you indicated that you wanted to talk to a detective. Is that correct, sir?”
“Yes,” Tony agreed, his tone resigned.
“As the officer told you at the scene, and I will now repeat, you have a right to remain silent. You have a right to an attorney before you answer any questions. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. And finally, if you choose to answer questions, you may stop answering at any time. Do you understand all of this?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know it by heart.”
“All right, Mr. Sharkey, were you attempting to break into the home where you were arrested?”
“Of course I was. Why do you think I was up on the balcony in the middle of the night? I wasn’t picking no apples.”
“I’m sure you weren’t picking apples, sir,” the detective replied sarcastically. “What were you going to do when you got inside the house?”
“Look for some jewelry and cash.”
“Was anybody else with you?”
“No, I’m always the Lone Ranger.”
“So, sir, what is it you want to tell me?”
“You know that big trial going on in Hackensack where they charged that rich lady with killing her husband? You know, that dude with Alzheimer’s?”
“I’m familiar with the trial,” Barrett said crisply. “What about it?”
“I had worked at the house washing the windows a couple of days before. I was in the house the night the doctor got whacked. I didn’t do it, but I don’t think his wife did it either.”
“You were in the house that night?” Barrett asked incredulously. “What were you doing there?”
“I was helping myself to a piece of jewelry. I took a bracelet. I still have it.”
“You still have it? Where is it?”
“It’s at my pad in Moonachie. The cop who arrested me took my keys. You can go there right now and get it. It’s stuffed with diamonds and emeralds.”
“Where will we find it?”
“It’s in a paper bag under a loose tile in the floor, under the bathroom sink.”
Detective William Barrett had no idea whether Tony Sharkey was crazy or really had something important. But there was no question they had to check it out immediately.
He turned to the other officer in the room. “Get me the keys from his property envelope. Mr. Sharkey, please sign this consent form.
Tony quickly scribbled his signature on the form.
“Okay, we’ll send the officers to your apartment right now. I’ll talk to you again when we see if they find anything.”
“Good,” Tony replied. “And tell them there’s nothing else in the apartment. Don’t mess up my décor.”
Rolling his eyes, Barrett said, “We’ll take you to the holding cell now.”
“Oh, one more thing. After you get the bracelet, call Wally’s Window Washers in Paramus. Ask them to send you the names of the guys who were working at Grant’s house in Alpine the two days before the dude died.”
51
Ninety minutes later, at 3:15 A.M., the officers were back from Moonachie and meeting with Detective Barrett. He was examining the bracelet they had recovered under the loose tile beneath the bathroom sink—exactly where Tony had said it would be. “Get him from the holding cell,” he said.
Tony smiled as he sat down at the table across from Barrett and saw the bracelet in his hands. “Didn’t I tell ya? And look at the initials, TG and BG. Ted and Betsy Grant. So sweet.”
“Okay, so this part of what you said panned out,” Detective Barrett said cautiously. “I can’t get that window-wash place until the morning. Their office isn’t open in the middle of the night.”
“That will pan out too, guaranteed.”
Barrett knew that Prosecutor Elliot Holmes had to be informed about this right away. All of the police departments had his contact numbers for emergencies. I guess this qualifies, Barrett thought. He stepped out of the room and, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, dialed the prosecutor’s home number. Elliot Holmes, awakened from a deep sleep, answered the phone.
“Sir, I apologize for calling you at this hour. I would only do so under extreme circumstances. But I thought it was necessary.”
“All right—what have you got?”
Barrett told him of Tony’s arrest, the recovery of the initialed bracelet and Tony’s claim that he had been in the home on the night of the murder. Holmes listened, incredulous at what he was hearing. “When was the bracelet reported missing?”
“Here’s the crazy part, sir. It never was. I called the Alpine Police before I called you. They have no such report on file.”
<
br /> “So if he did go into the house, there’s no proof of when he did.”
“That’s right, sir. He does claim that he worked there washing windows a few days before the doctor died. I can’t confirm one way or the other until the place opens in the morning.”
Seething, Holmes knew that he had to talk to Sharkey and then notify Maynard. “Get him to my office at 8 A.M. and I’ll talk to him. I really need this garbage when we’re ready to do the summations.” Without another word, Holmes hung up.
Five hours later, Holmes entered the interrogation room at the prosecutor’s office and sat down at the conference table. Tony had just been brought in by Detective Barrett. Two of the homicide detectives who had worked on the trial sat down next to the prosecutor and looked at Tony with contempt.
Holmes began, his voice riddled with sarcasm. “So, Mr. Sharkey . . .”
“Call me Tony. Everybody else does,” he replied cheerfully.
Holmes ignored his answer. “Mr. Sharkey, I understand that you have received your Miranda warnings and want to talk to me. Is that correct?”
“That’s why I’m here. You got a nice office.”
“Do you understand those warnings? I should add that I assume you do. Your criminal record is atrocious so I also assume that you’ve received those warnings quite a few times before.”
“Yeah, lots of times. I understand all of it. No problem.”
“I am informed by Detective Barrett that you claim that you were in the Alpine home the night the doctor was murdered. The first time you tell the police about this is when they arrest you trying to break into a house. Then you produce a bracelet that may or may not come from the Alpine house but was never reported stolen.”
Holmes was about to continue when another detective entered the room and whispered in his ear. Holmes grimaced as he listened.
Holmes resumed. “I was just informed that the window-washing company has confirmed you worked at the Alpine house for a couple of days before the doctor was murdered.”
Tony turned to Detective Barrett, looking triumphant. “See, I told ya.”
Holmes, furious, said, “How does this convince me that you were there when the doctor was killed?”
“I came back to go into the house the night after I was finished breaking my back washing their fancy windows. I had seen the safe in the master bedroom upstairs and I knew it would be a piece of cake to get into.”
“How did you get in?”
“When I was there doing the windows, I disconnected the alarm wire in the window in that room. I went through that window when I came back and I twisted the wire again when I left, to make it look like it was still connected, but it really wasn’t. So I didn’t set off the alarm when I left. It was a real joke system. Easy to get around.”
“You told Detective Barrett that you saw a car pulling away?”
“Well, yeah but this is where we gotta talk turkey. I want you to give me probation before I spill any more beans.”
Prosecutor Elliot Holmes stood up. “You want probation? You want probation? You are a career criminal. You were caught a few hours ago at a burglary. The bracelet was never reported stolen. Even if it was taken from that house, and whether you took it or not, that will be another charge at the very least of possession of stolen property. You can’t prove you were in the house that night. And you won’t tell me anything about this mystery car you supposedly saw.”
Elliot Holmes could barely contain his fury. “You will get nothing from me except more indictments. I have an obligation to immediately notify the defense counsel, Mr. Maynard, of what you have said. If he buys into your garbage, then he can ask to call you as a witness. I promise you that I will destroy you on the stand.”
Turning to his two detectives he barked, “Get him out of my sight.”
52
Robert Maynard arrived in his skyscraper office at a few minutes before nine. Even though he was not going to court, he was fully dressed in a suit and tie. His shirt had cuff links and his shoes were shined. He was planning to prepare his summation today. He knew that the evidence against Betsy Grant was virtually insurmountable and his best hope was for a hung jury, and if not, then a conviction for manslaughter. Not five minutes later his secretary buzzed him that the prosecutor was on the phone.
“Hello, Elliot. I can honestly say that you’re the last person I would expect to be calling me.”
“Hello, Robert. And you are the last person that I thought I would be calling. But I have an obligation to inform you of some developments.”
Dumbfounded, Maynard listened to the details of Tony Sharkey’s arrest, the recovery of the bracelet, and his claim that he had been in the home the night of the murder. “So there it is,” Elliot said. “You can go see him at the Bergen County Jail. Given all of these circumstances, I am forced to consent if you ask the judge to reopen your case and put him on the stand. I really hope that you do. I’ll annihilate him. He wanted probation in exchange for destroying my case.”
Robert Maynard took a moment to digest what he had just heard. Last-minute surprise witnesses only happened on bad cops-and-robbers TV shows, he thought. His voice suddenly more confident, he said, “Elliot, I don’t know where this is going. But if destroying your case means that my innocent client is exonerated, well that’s just too bad. I’ll get to the jail within an hour and talk to him. I will call you after I do and let you know whether I intend to use him.”
“Okay. Do that. If you intend to call him, we’ll have to see the judge this afternoon. This guy does not want a lawyer, and I know the judge will first want to question him on the record about his decision to testify and what kind of prison time he’s exposed to.”
“All right. After I speak to him, I have to talk to Betsy about what we do. I should be able to get back to you by noon.”
“That’s fine.” Speaking with a little less hostility, Holmes then commented, “I have been doing this for a long time and this is a first for something like this at the end of a murder trial.”
“Well, I’ve been doing this about twenty years longer than you and this is a first for me too.”
Robert Maynard hung up the phone. Skeptical though he was about the potential witness that he was about to meet, for the first time he allowed himself to seriously consider the possibility that Betsy might actually be innocent.
On the ride to Hackensack he telephoned Betsy and told her what had occurred. Startled to hear of Tony’s claim that he had been in her home the night Ted died, she gasped, “Robert, do you know what this means? I have never thought that you believed I was innocent. I have no idea when that bracelet went missing. I only realized that it was missing a couple of months after Ted died. I hadn’t worn any of my expensive jewelry in a very long time. Carmen and I scoured the house and finally decided Ted must have thrown it out, just like the key. I never dreamed it was stolen because all of my other valuable jewelry was in the safe. I was just about to file an insurance claim for it.
“Wait a minute, Robert,” Betsy said. “Carmen is trying to tell me something. What is it, Carmen?”
Carmen grabbed the phone from her hand. “Mr. Maynard, I wanted to say this in court but the judge kept telling me to only answer the question. I wanted to tell him that there was dirt on the rug in the master bedroom when I went to vacuum right after Dr. Ted died.”
“Did you ever tell anyone this?”
“No. I kept trying to tell myself that I must have missed it. But I checked all the rooms to make sure they were clean after the window washers left. There was no dirt on that rug then. I’m sure of it. I was so upset that Dr. Ted was gone that I thought maybe I had missed it. But I know I didn’t.”
“Carmen, are you absolutely sure about this? This could be very important.”
“Yes, Mr. Maynard. I felt bad when I didn’t say it at the trial. But like I said, the judge just told me to answer the question.”
Betsy grabbed the phone back.
“This may be a very
big help,” Maynard told her.
“Let’s hope so, Robert.”
“Betsy, I’m going to meet with this guy in the next hour. I have to get a sense of whether he could help us or maybe kill us. I will call you after I see him.”
“Okay. Pray God, this is the miracle I have been waiting for.”
• • •
Robert Maynard had phoned ahead to the Bergen County Jail to ask them to have Sharkey available to him as soon as he got there. After going through security, he was led to a small attorney conference room. It consisted of a table with two chairs. A couple of minutes later, he watched as Tony Sharkey was led in, accompanied by two sheriff’s officers. One of them spoke. “We will be right outside the door. Let us know when you are finished.”
As he sat across from him, Maynard immediately sensed that Tony Sharkey was worried. Holmes had told him that he wouldn’t give him any deal. If anything, Holmes was now out to get him.
“Mr. Sharkey—”
“Call me Tony.”
“Okay, Tony. You must understand that my sole obligation as an attorney is to my client Betsy Grant. Whatever I do, as far as using you is concerned, depends on whether or not I consider it to be in her best interest.”
“Agreed,” Tony replied. “It’s your solemn duty and all that kind of thing.”
“You must understand that you are entitled to a lawyer.”
“I’ve heard that about six times. I don’t want one. The last genius who represented me got me four years in prison.”
“All right. That’s up to you. You must also understand that I cannot force the prosecutor to give you probation or less time in prison.”
“So he told me,” Tony replied sarcastically. “A real gem of a guy.”
“What I can promise you is my strong belief that if your testimony results in the real killer being identified, or at least if it shows that Betsy didn’t do it, the prosecutor, who will certainly be embarrassed, will be under a lot of pressure to give you much less time in prison. And Betsy certainly won’t want you prosecuted for going into her house. You will just have to deal with getting caught at the Saddle River house. That’s how I see it.”