Chapter 51
Things were jumping at the Jacksonville precinct. For some reasons crime was on the rise in the spring. As if the criminals suddenly awoke from hibernation somehow and went on a rampage of vandalism, theft, wilful destruction, arson and, of course, murder.
The two detectives, who had been in charge of the “Marianne Case”, as it had been nicknamed last year, were in their captain’s office.
“Okay, I’ve had ADA Blake on the phone this morning,” Captain Hiller said, “and she wanted to know which one of you two had decided to pin the murder of the CIA agent on Ms Kartz.” The two men looked at each other, visibly at a momentary loss. “Nobody is saying that was wrong, I’m just wondering why and when you decided to point the finger at the lady.”
Fisk, the younger of the two detectives, decided it was better to come clean. “I think I did, Captain.”
“You think? Aren’t you sure? Let me tell you something; on my patch, you don’t think, you make sure before you open your mouth. And that goes for you too, Laslo.”
Laslo had his hands in his trousers’ pockets. He was looking at the floor. He was trying to think of the name of the FBI agent who told him and Fisk that the Kartz woman had killed the CIA man. “We both did, sir.”
“Alright... and why, is my next question, because I’ve got an ADA who’s hopping mad right now and who’s thinking that someone is dictating what should go in your reports—so I want answers.” Captain Hiller was a fair man but he disliked loose ends with a passion. Unsubstantiated details fell into that category.
“I’d have to look at the report, Captain, but I believe the FBI was on top of the situation when we got to the scene, and they told us what happened.”
“They told you? They told you? Since when have you become blind and deaf? Because the guy’s got a badge with some alphabet on it doesn’t mean he can dictate what you write in your reports.” Hiller was not happy. He groaned and sat down. “Get me the agent’s name and go back to the marina and where ever the incident occurred and see what you can find out…”
“But, sir, it’s been almost a year,” Fisk ventured.
“I don’t care if it happened ten years ago; get yourselves out of here before I transfer you to the Cold Case Section for good. Do you hear me?” Hiller hollered.
Without taking the time to answer, both Fisk and Laslo left Hiller’s office in a hurry. They knew they were in trouble.
Later that afternoon, Laslo was back. He knocked on the open door of Hiller’s office.
“Yeah... Come in... So, what’s your take on it?” Hiller didn’t raise his eyes from the paperwork in front of him.
“The agent’s name is Verduccio,” Laslo replied. “Apparently, he had gotten a call from CSIS in Canada and he told Fisk and me that Ms. Kartz had killed the CIA agent.”
Hiller lifted his head slowly and glared at his detective. “And you believed him?”
“Well…, yes, sir, we did. See, this Verduccio seemed pretty sure of himself…”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, sir, I had checked his ID and he was with the FBI alright…”
“Are you gone completely off your head? You should have gone over the scene and get CSI on it…”
“But these guys had already removed the bodies from the river and there was nothing else to see or do…”
“You mean to tell me that you didn’t have a chance to go on the frigging trawler yourselves?” Hiller extended a hand for Laslo to give him the file he had held in his grip since he came in. “Give me that.” Laslo did and crossed his arms over his chest. Hiller read a few lines and pointed at one paragraph in particular. “It says here “nothing appeared out of order on the upper deck and all evidence have been tagged and taken to the pathologist for forensic examination”.” Hiller flipped through the pages. “I seem to remember asking myself at the time what sort of evidence these guys had... Do you happen to have a list now, or a forensic report?”
“We got something from the FBI a month or so later, saying the file had been closed and the Canadians were going to handle it since one of their agents was also on board at the time. The report is at the back of the file…” Laslo pointed at the folder.
“Let’s see…” Hiller pulled out another sheaf of paper and started reading. When he finished, his face was blustering red. He was angry. “As I said you people are blind. Have you read this?”
“Huh, sir…?”
“Tell me what it says…” Hiller handed him the forensic list and report.
“They recovered rags with blood stains from the transom... and the blood belonged to the second victim—a guy named Salaman Abib…”
“Good, at least you can still read. And what does that tell you?”
“That he was knifed...” Laslo froze. He realized what he had read meant. “Since Al Nadir was strangled, and this Abib guy was knifed, it means that Ms. Kartz didn’t kill the CIA agent but she knifed Abib.”
Hiller smiled. “Now, what does the ME’s report tell you?” He handed him another folder.
Laslo opened it and read it as if for the first time. He looked up from the folder to the Captain a couple of times before he answered, “It says here that the knife wound didn’t kill Abib... and... that he drowned.”
“One last question, Laslo…, why the hell didn’t you read the report before now?” Hiller shouted…, so loud in fact, that everyone outside his office stopped. The proverbial fly could be heard buzzing.
Laslo hung his head and slammed the folders on the Captain’s desk. “Because I’ve never seen these reports before!” he yelled. Then in a quieter voice, “I got the file out this morning and left it on my desk when Fisk and I went out to the mooring pier. Someone must have put those in when we were out of here.”
“Okay, let’s see…” Hiller got up, went around his desk and marched into the incidents’ room. He stood stock still amid his men and looked around. “Okay. Has someone seen anybody around Laslo’s desk this morning or this afternoon?”
A burly man sitting at a desk near Laslo’s pushed his chair back and faced his captain. “I did. This guy came in at about 2:00 and asked where Laslo was sitting. I told him and then he said he had a folder for him... I didn’t pay attention. I was on the phone, but I think he put something on his table and left.”
“Did you ask his name?” Hiller asked, his imposing figure towering over the detective.
“Like I said, I was on the phone…”
“I guess that’s a no.” He turned to the other men. “Anyone else seen this guy?” There were shaking heads all around. He returned his attention to the burly detective. “Okay, Casey, could you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Sure. A Caucasian guy. He was lanky like, over six feet. He had a long face with some pocks, like he had had smallpox or something, beady eyes and was dressed with shirt and tie. He had slick, black hair going over his shirt collar…”
“That’s Verduccio,” Laslo blurted from behind the Captain’s back. The latter spun on his heels.
“Get him on the screen—NOW!” Hiller ordered. Laslo sat at his desk and without a word complied with the captain’s request. In a few seconds, Verduccio’s face appeared on the screen—except that now, access to his personnel file was denied.
“What the hell!” Hiller yelled. “What’s going on here? Okay…, let’s take this one step at a time. Casey…?”
“Yes, sir...”
“Get your ass out of that chair and have a look here.” Casey did and went to look at Laslo’s monitor. “Is that the guy who came in this afternoon?”
“Yeah, that’s him alright.”
“Okay, good. Now, Fisk...”
The young officer had been intent on the whole incident and was on the alert. “Yes…?”
“You phone the ME and get a copy of his reports on the Marianne’s corpses and then you do the same with the forensics guys.”
“Okay, no probs.” Fisk was already dialling.
/> “Laslo, you call the fishing port authority and ask if the Marianne is still operating out of these waters. If she’s still there, you go with Fisk in the morning and have a chat with the owner.”
“What about Ms. Kartz then…?”
“I’ll get the ADA on the phone and straighten this out. If there is any warrant to be issued it would only be for involuntary manslaughter... We’ll see what she says...” Hiller strode back into his office and closed the door.
Laslo looked at Fisk. “Wait until I get this Verduccio between four eyes...”