Dead Even

Chapter 19

“YOU REALLY THINK SHE’S DUMB ENOUGH TO GO TO Rafferty’s?” Sara asked as she sat next to Guff in the backseat of the speeding police car.

“She’s got nowhere else to go,” one of the two police officers in the front seat said. “Her house is a crime scene.”

“But she doesn’t know that.”

“If she’s really in love with Rafferty, that’s where she’s headed,” the officer said. “Now, tell me about your husband. Were you able to find him?”

“There’s no answer at his office,” Sara said, trying to sound confident. “I called some of the partners he works with, but no one’s seen him or his assistant since this morning.”

Guff looked over at his boss. “Sara, what if he-”

“I’m sure he’s just out of the office,” Sara interrupted anxiously.

“But what if he’s not? Maybe we should’ve waited for Conrad.”

“We left a message at the office. He’ll find it when he gets back.”

“Try your husband again,” the officer said. He handed her his cellular phone.

“Not now,” she insisted, refusing to face the possibility. “Wait until we’re done with Rafferty.”

When they arrived at Rafferty’s building, the two police officers approached the doorman. “We’re here to see Oscar Rafferty in apartment 1708,” one of them said. The doorman reached for the phone, and the officer added, “We’d prefer if you didn’t call him.”

The doorman ushered them inside and said, “I don’t know anything, I don’t want to know anything, I don’t care.”

“You’re a real humanitarian,” Guff said as they entered the lobby. No one said another word until all four of them were inside the elevator.

As they approached the seventeenth floor, Sara turned to Guff. “Obviously, Rafferty can’t know we’re looking for Doniger. So the story is that we’re looking for Kozlow. Easy enough, yes?” Everyone nodded in silent agreement.

Reaching into the pocket of her pantsuit, Sara rechecked the gun that Conrad had given her before he left for Hoboken. Seeing what Sara was doing, Guff said, “Stop worrying about it. You don’t have to use it – he just thought you should have it.”

“It’s fine,” Sara said. “I can handle it.”

At Rafferty’s door, Sara rang the bell.

“Who is it?” Rafferty asked.

“Mr. Rafferty, it’s Sara Tate from the district attorney’s office. I spoke to you last week.”

Suddenly, the door opened and Rafferty looked out at his visitors. His features were drawn. His usually combed-back hair was a stringy mess. And his Brioni sportswear had been replaced by creased khakis and a rumpled shirt with the cuffs undone. “What is it, Ms. Tate?” he asked abruptly.

“Sorry to bother you again, but I was wondering if we could ask for a bit more of your time.”

“If this is about Claire, I want you to know that I’d never-”

“We can deal with that later,” Sara said. “Right now, we were hoping to take a quick look around your apartment. We have reason to believe that Tony Kozlow might be here.”

“Why would-” Rafferty fought to keep his composure. “You’re welcome to come in.” As Rafferty stepped aside, Guff and the two officers made their way into the apartment and began their search. Sara stayed with Rafferty. Studying his tired eyes, she tried to figure out what he knew.

“I understand you sent a fingerprint crew to my office this morning,” Rafferty said, breaking the silence.

“I did. And I was surprised to find out that you weren’t at work today. Why’d you take the day off? Busy with other things?”

“Ms. Tate, your lack of subtlety is disgraceful. If you want to accuse me of murder, then arrest me.”

“I plan to,” Sara said. “Believe me, we’re going to be speaking again soon.”

At that moment, Guff returned to the living room. “No sign,” Guff said. A minute later, the two officers followed.

“He’s not here,” one of them said. “The place is empty.”

“Thank you,” Rafferty said, showing everyone to the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to make some funeral arrangements. Claire had no close relatives.”

As she was about to leave, Sara turned around. “I thought you two weren’t close.”

“She’s my former partner’s wife. Good friends look out for each other.”

“I’m sure they do,” Sara said as Rafferty slammed the door.

Walking toward the elevator, Guff said, “I can’t believe she wasn’t there.”

“Did you check everywhere?” Sara asked.

“It’s a three-bedroom apartment in New York City. There aren’t that many places to hide.”

“I guess that means he doesn’t have a wine cellar,” Sara said as they stepped into the elevator.

“Do you think he knew?” one of the officers asked.

“Of course he knew,” Guff said. “By now, the whole world knows.”

“How can you say that?” Sara asked.

“Sara, I don’t mean to stomp on your fairy tale, but I think it’s time to take a second look at Jared. If you never would’ve told him-”

“That’s not true,” Sara insisted.

“It is true,” Guff shot back. “Trust me, I agreed with you yesterday. I thought you were right to tell him. But you have to pay attention to what’s going on here. I don’t think Claire snuck out of the basement on her own – someone must have told her what was really happening. And the only way that could’ve happened is if someone knew what we were doing.”

“No one knows, Guff! And even if McCabe let her out, that doesn’t mean it’s my husband’s fault!” When the elevator doors opened, Sara burst through the lobby and headed for the police car.

“Where’re you going?” Guff asked, chasing after her. “Don’t run away.”

“We have to go to Elliott’s,” Sara said “He’s the only other person who has a stake in this.”

“But what if Conrad-”

“If Conrad’s still there, we’ll go along with his story. If not, we’ll tell Elliott we’re following up.”

“That’s great. I agree,” Guff said. “But you have to start dealing with your husband. Let one of these guys check up on him.”

“How many times do I have to tell you: Jared would never do that!”

Guff wiped his hands on his pants. He was torn. He didn’t want to challenge her, but he was starting to get frustrated. In a softer voice, he said, “If you’re so confident, why can’t you find him? Why has he suddenly disappeared?”

Sara stared coldly at her assistant. “Give me your phone,” she said to one of the officers. She quickly dialed Jared’s number. Again, no one picked up. She shut the phone and handed it back to the officer.

“Now do you understand what I’m saying?” Guff asked. “It’s not like you have to arrest him – I just think you should send someone to his office to check him out. With everything that’s happening, we should know where he is.”

Silently, she considered Guff’s proposal. “And that’s it? They’re not going to question him? They’re just going there to find him?”

“That’s up to you.”

Sara opened the door to the police car and got inside. “Okay,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Turning back to the officers, Guff said, “Can you send someone to Wayne and Portnoy?”

“I’m on it,” the taller of the two officers said, pulling out his walkie-talkie.

“And maybe one of you guys should stick around here,” Guff added. “In case Claire decides to come by.”

“I can do that,” the other officer said.

As the first cop called in the instructions, Guff got in the backseat of the car. Sara was stoic. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her eyes were glued to the side window.

“Sara, you know it was the right thing to-”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “It’s done.”

Peering out his living-room window, which overlooked the front of the building, Rafferty watched to make sure that Sara and the rest were actually leaving. When he was convinced they were gone, he walked to his front door and stepped out into the hallway. He checked again for observers, then went down the hallway to the garbage room. Inside were Kozlow and Claire.

“Man, to get that warning, you must’ve given the doorman one hell of a Christmas gift,” Kozlow said.

“Lucky for you,” Rafferty said.

“No, lucky for you,” Kozlow said. He left the room and walked back to Rafferty’s apartment.

Rafferty and Claire embraced in the hallway. “Were there any problems?” Claire asked.

“Not at all,” Rafferty said, still hugging her. “Not anymore.”

“Can you two save the reunion for another time?” Kozlow called out. “I want to get out of here.”

“Relax,” Rafferty said. He walked back to his apartment and put on his coat. “As long as we can avoid the cop Sara left behind, I want to have a little talk with the person who got her involved in the first place.”

“There’s a cop in the lobby? How’re we going to get past him?”

“This building has twenty-four floors, a rooftop pool, its own gym, an underground garage, and a dry cleaner in the basement – you don’t think it also has a side door?”

As Sara and company raced downtown, the officer driving the police car asked, “Where exactly are we going now?”

“Hoboken,” Sara said from the passenger seat.

The car screeched to a halt. “No way,” the officer said. “Not in this car. Hoboken’s in Jersey. New York City cops have no jurisdiction over there.”

“You have jurisdiction if you’re in hot pursuit,” Sara said.

“Does it look like this guy Elliott is directly in front of us? Does it look like he’s avoiding us only by running across state lines? Does it look like we’re in hot pursuit?”

“C’mon, there he goes!” Guff said. “I see him on the next block! Let’s get him!”

The officer didn’t move. “Listen, I agree the rules are stupid, but the Jersey cops raise hell if you break them. The last guy in my squad who crossed state lines without authorization was assigned to Port Authority for three months. Said the bus fumes were worse than the urine stink.”

“C’mon,” Sara said. “We’re not doing anything crazy. We just want to find this guy and bring him back to the station.”

“Do whatever you want. But unless you have the right paperwork, you’re not doing it in this car.”

“Fine,” Sara said. She opened the door to the car. “Then let’s get a cab. We’ll go down there and pick him up ourselves.”

“No,” Guff said. “You can’t.”

“Why? This is bureaucratic bullshit.”

“Maybe, but that’s the way it goes. If we try to pick Elliott up without the proper authorization, we jeopardize the case and everything we find.”

“But-”

“Sara, you know how it works. Don’t let your heart get in front of your head. Break the rules and the judge will exclude your evidence.”

“Take the ten minutes and call in the paperwork,” the officer added. “They can fax it to the Hoboken police, and it’ll be ready by the time we reach the Lincoln Tunnel.”

“Are you sure?” Sara asked hesitatingly.

“Of course I’m sure,” the officer said. “How long can a few sheets of paper possibly take?”

A half hour later, the police car was waiting in traffic at the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel. “I can’t believe this,” Sara said, banging the dashboard. “I knew we shouldn’t have called it in.”

“Relax,” the officer said. “Better we take the time now, instead of rushing in and regretting it later.”

“What amazes me is that the entire criminal community isn’t onto this trick,” Guff said. “If I were going to break the law in this city, the first thing I’d do is move to New Jersey. No one can touch you there.”

“I’m sure they know all about it,” the officer said, trying to lighten the mood. “But who wants to live in Jersey?” When no one responded to the joke, the officer added, “C’mon, that was funny.”

“Don’t push it,” Sara said. “Now’s not the time.”

“Who is it?” Elliott asked through the intercom.

“It’s Rafferty. Buzz us in.” The buzzer sounded and they made their way up the stairs.

As Elliott opened his door a crack, he saw Rafferty and Kozlow. “What’re you so happy about?” Elliott asked. Kozlow kicked the door open, revealing Claire.

“Well, would you look at that,” Elliott said. “They were lying to us.”

“Actually, they were playing us against each other,” Rafferty said, entering the apartment. “The only thing I can’t figure out is how they knew to come after you.”

“Why don’t you ask him.” Following Elliott’s gesture, Rafferty, Kozlow, and Claire turned toward the other room. Conrad’s body was still on the floor.

“Oh, God!” Claire shouted.

“Are you nuts?” Kozlow said. “You know what that’s going to do to us?”

“I know exactly what it’s going to do,” Elliott said. “It’s going to be my out.”

With gritted teeth, Rafferty slowly turned around. “You son of a bitch.”

“Is there a problem?” Elliott asked innocently.

“You knew all along, didn’t you? You knew she was alive, and you knew what they were doing.”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t play stupid, Elliott. Your lies are catching up with you. You’ve been threatening Sara since the beginning. That’s how she knew you were involved, that’s how she knew to come after you, and that’s why she wouldn’t take the dismiss and seal. You were supposed to stay away, and instead, you stuck your greedy nose back in.”

Elliott backed his way into the kitchen, trying to get Rafferty to follow him. If he was going to make it look real, he needed everyone to be in place. “Oscar, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You lying piece of shit!” Rafferty yelled. “You think I’m a moron?” He shoved Elliott in the chest, sending him crashing into the kitchen table. “You think I’m blind? I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re trying to grab the money for yourself.”

Just a little closer, Elliott thought. Near the window. Get the angles right. “I swear, I’d never-”

“Stop your lying!” Rafferty screamed, his voice booming through the tiny apartment. “I asked you one small favor: Find me someone to give the shot. That was your job. And what do you do? You turn on me! On me! I practically raised you, and that’s how you repay me?”

Suddenly, Elliott stopped where he was. “You didn’t raise me!” he shouted.

“Oh, I didn’t? Who gave your mother money when Arnold fired her? Who sent her money every year until you were sixteen? Who-”

“You didn’t give a shit about her – you were just afraid!” Advancing from the window, he stood face-to-face with Rafferty. “Until the day she died, you were worried she’d bring him up on charges. That she’d get vengeful and wreck his pathetic marriage. Or worse, that she’d get smart and sue your precious company. Rape accusations can be a real ugly mess, can’t they?”

“Your mother wasn’t raped,” Rafferty insisted.

“Yes, she was!” Elliott yelled as a vein on his forehead flushed red. “He punched her so hard, he broke her jaw! I still have the medical records to prove it! And when he found out she was pregnant, he threw her in the street!” Noticing Claire’s reaction, Elliott asked, “You didn’t know that, did you? You knew he was ruthless, but you didn’t know he was a monster. If you did, maybe you would’ve killed him sooner.”

“That’s enough!” Rafferty interrupted. “Leave her out of it!”

“Why? She’s just as responsible as you are. In fact, she’s more responsible. If she hadn’t been so afraid of giving Arnold the shot, we never would’ve had to hire Kozlow. And if we hadn’t hired him-”

“Hey, asshole…” Kozlow interrupted.

“Stay out of this,” Rafferty growled. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he turned back to Elliott. “We hired Kozlow because we wanted alibis – even you know that’s true.”

“That’s true, but my mother’s story’s a lie?”

“Elliott, your mother was a degenerate who begged for it every day. I gave her money out of pity, not guilt. And if she told you she was raped, it was only because she was embarrassed by the truth.”

“You’re a liar!”

“No. I’m not,” Rafferty said. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat. “And if you want to join us in reality, you should start believing that and stop living in your mother’s fantasies.”

Enraged, Elliott reached for his gun. “You motherfu-”

Three shots rang out. Two hit Elliott in the chest, one went through the kitchen window on his right. Elliott fell to the floor and his blood inched across the linoleum. Ignoring his victim, Rafferty looked down at the hole he had just blown through the pocket of his own overcoat.

“No!” Claire screamed. She staggered backward until she hit the refrigerator.

“Oh, man, why’d you have to do that?” Kozlow asked Rafferty, throwing his hands in the air.

“Is he dead?” Rafferty asked, watching the blood seep across more of the kitchen floor.

“Of course he’s dead – you shot him in the chest.” Kozlow leaned over Elliott’s body to be sure. “What’re you doing, man? Are you even thinking?”

Standing behind Kozlow, Rafferty explained, “I’m doing what I should’ve done the moment this started.” Rafferty pointed his gun at Kozlow.

“Are you crazy, Oscar?” Claire shouted.

Kozlow felt the barrel of the gun at the back of his head. “Oscar, if that’s what I think it is, you’re a dead man.”

“No, I’m not the dead man,” Rafferty said, his voice racing. “Look at the layout. You’re the one who shot him. Not me. You. If you hadn’t acted like such an animal, we could’ve walked away. It would’ve been perfect.”

“Put down the gun,” Kozlow said.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Put down the gun!” Claire shouted.

Kozlow was nothing but pure rage. “First I’m going to dance on your neck, then I’m going to dance on hers,” he said. “It’ll make Harrison look like a paper cut.” Kozlow started to turn his head, hoping to look Rafferty in the eye.

“Don’t move!” Rafferty yelled.

“Oscar, don’t do this!” Claire pleaded.

Kozlow was tensed to jump. “I’m going to slice you open and-”

“Don’t move!” Rafferty repeated. “I mean it!”

Kozlow wasn’t stopping. He spun around and went straight for Rafferty’s throat. But before he could make contact, another shot rang out. A crimson burst sprayed across the kitchen and Kozlow slumped to the floor. There was a dull thud as his head hit the ground.

“Oh, God!” Claire screamed. “Oh, my God!”

“Claire, don’t flip out on me.”

Shaking, Claire looked at Elliott, then at Kozlow. Both of them were now soaked in blood. She rushed to the sink and vomited.

“Dammit, Claire, what’re you doing?!” Rafferty screamed. “You can’t let them know we were here!” He pulled a pair of leather gloves from his coat and, as Claire continued to heave, turned on the faucet. He poured dishwashing liquid all over the sink, hoping to hide the smell. Then he grabbed Elliott’s keys from the kitchen table, went into the living room, and opened the storage trunk. Rummaging through the chest, he found the contents of Sara’s wallet and discovered the plastic hands with his name on them. The gloves were missing – which meant Elliott was wearing them. “Perfect. It’s a perfect excuse,” Rafferty said, throwing the empty hands aside. “Now he’s me.” He pulled out the Warren Eastham gloves and brought them back to the kitchen.

Knowing that the gloves would confound the investigation, he stuffed them into Kozlow’s back pocket, grabbed Kozlow by the hand, and dragged him, facedown, toward the other side of the kitchen. Lifting the back of Kozlow’s jacket, Rafferty found Kozlow’s handgun. He took the gun from the back of Kozlow’s pants. He then used his own gun to shoot Kozlow two more times in the back and once in the leg. When he was done, he placed his gun in Elliott’s hand and shoved Kozlow’s gun in his own pocket. “Now it looks like an argument,” he said. “As Kozlow was leaving, Elliott shot him in the back. That’s it. That’s what makes sense.” Rafferty looked over at Claire, who was still leaning into the sink. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“No, I’m not okay!” she cried. “You just put a hole in his head! You killed two people! What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t say that, Claire! What was I supposed to do? Let them run around, hoping they don’t ruin me?”

“We’re already ruined. You think Sara Tate’s going to-”

“Shut up!” Rafferty shouted. “I don’t want to hear it! It’ll work!”

Light-headed and still trembling, Claire looked like she was going to pass out. “Get me out of here.”

“Shut up,” Rafferty said, pulling her by the arm toward the door. “I need to make one more stop.”

“I’m sorry about the delay,” the Hoboken police officer said to Sara as they strode toward Elliott’s building.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sara said, buzzing apartment eight.

When there was no answer after a few buzzes, the Hoboken cop rammed his shoulder into the door, which flew wide open.

When the group got to the top floor, they knocked on Elliott’s door. Again, there was no answer. “Elliott, are you there?” Sara called out. “Conrad?” Trying the doorknob, she found it unlocked and pushed the door open. “Oh, God,” she said.

“You know these people?” the New Jersey cop asked.

Sara didn’t answer. She couldn’t take her eyes off the bloody scene. This wasn’t like the autopsy – she knew these people. And as much as she feared them, no one should die like this. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Why would they… how the hell could he do this?”

Turning to the New York police officer, Guff said, “Hope the paperwork was worth it.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” the cop shot back.

“Looks like a robbery,” the New Jersey cop added as he examined the scene. “The guy in the leather jacket shoots the skinny guy, but as he’s about to leave, the skinny guy sits up and shoots the leather guy in the back of the head.”

“Are you kidding?” Sara asked. “Look at the streaks of blood on the floor. Someone obviously moved Kozlow’s body.”

“Or he was trying to crawl to the door,” the Jersey cop pointed out.

“Oh, no,” Guff said from the living room, his voice shaking. “Sara! Sara, get in here!”

Racing into the living room, Sara saw Guff down on both knees. And Conrad’s broken body lying in the corner. “Oh, no! Not him! Please, not him!” she screamed. She dropped down next to Guff and grabbed Conrad’s head in her hands. “Somebody get an ambulance! We need an ambulance!” She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. She put her head to Conrad’s chest and listened for a heartbeat. Nothing. “C’mon,” she said, lightly slapping his cheek. “I know you’re still in there. Don’t give up!” Still nothing. She pounded his chest. “You heard me! You’re not giving up! I’m not going to let you!” Again, she hit him. And again. But he still didn’t move. As she squeezed his blood-soaked shirt, her hands were shaking and she started to hyperventilate. “Please, Conrad, don’t do this. Please, don’t leave. Please. Please, don’t leave me. Not again.” As the tears finally came, Sara wanted to shake him awake. She wanted to keep pounding his chest. She wanted to hear that pulse. But when it came right down to it, all she really wanted was to get him back.

When she turned around, Guff was still weeping. “C’mere,” she said, opening her arms. Guff fell right in. For a minute, the two of them sat there, on their knees, silently consoling each other. “I’m sorry,” Sara finally said, rubbing his back. “I’m so sorry.”

“He was my friend,” Guff cried.

As Sara listened to the rise and fall of Guff’s sobs, she wondered how this had happened. Conrad hadn’t just been caught unprepared. He was ambushed. And the only way that was possible was if someone had known he was coming. Climbing to her feet, Sara wiped her eyes with her sleeve. He’d warned her, but she hadn’t listened. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. “Call the precinct and see if they picked up Jared,” she said to the New York cop.

As the officer started dialing, Sara helped Guff up from the floor.

“You really think it’s him?” Guff asked.

“I don’t know what to think anymore. All I know is-”

“What?” the officer blurted into his cell phone. “When?” Silent for a minute, he answered. “She’s with me. No, I got it. I’ll bring her right in.” He shut the phone and looked with shock at Sara.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“They just got a 911 call from Wayne and Portnoy. The officer who went over there – he’s been shot.”