Dirty Blonde

CHAPTER 23

Cate froze, standing in her ruined office, her phone at her ear. When Nesbitt told her, she was facing the window, so she remained facing the window, though she suddenly saw none of the view.

Nesbitt had said: “Judge, Russo stole my case file, on Simone. He has the record, about you.”

“Judge? You there?”

“He really has the record?”

“Yes. I gave you a copy. I kept the original in the file.”

“The record of my”-what had Nesbitt called it, only hours ago-“personal whereabouts?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“What about the pictures?”

“Those too. Copies, not the originals.”

Cate tried to process it and couldn’t. “How did this happen?”

“Come down to the Roundhouse, Judge. We need to talk about it.”

“Be there in fifteen minutes.” Cate let the phone snap closed.

Cate had never been at the Roundhouse before and couldn’t ignore its seaminess. The lobby downstairs was a dark, empty space, reeking of cigarette smoke that blew in from the smokers in front of the building. Nesbitt met her there, clamping a strong arm on hers, and whisking her up a funny, podlike elevator to the Homicide Division. They passed a cramped waiting area with two black couches, arranged facing each other against a wall that read WANTED and was covered by rows of eight-by-ten glossies of scary, affectless faces. Then Cate was pressed through a swinging half-door she’d seen in only the cheapest bars.

“This way, Judge,” Nesbitt said, and led her through a large, dim squad room that contained about twenty institutional-gray desks, stacked with files and arranged in no apparent order. Water-stained curtains hung unevenly, and on the right side of the room sat a row of file cabinets of different colors and sizes, in grimy gray, black, tan, and even olive green, lined up like rotten teeth. Detectives in shirt-sleeves talked on the phone at the desks, and one read the Daily News, his shiny loafers crossed on his desk. All of them pointedly ignored Cate and Nesbitt.

“Come on in, Judge,” Nesbitt said, gesturing her into an office off the squad room, and at Cate’s entrance, a tall, thin detective in a houndstooth suit stood up, with a professional smile. Nesbitt stepped in behind her. “Judge, this is my sergeant, Marvin Shiller.”

“Hello, Sergeant.” Cate extended a hand across the desk, trying to act as dignified as possible. Both men knew her secret, and it felt lousy. She could only imagine the jokes they’d made before she got here, and she wondered how many of the other detectives in the squad room knew, too. She forced herself to meet Shiller’s eye as he shook her hand, and he almost crushed it in a large, rough palm. She said, “Quite a handshake.”

“It impresses the chicks.” Shiller grinned, showing unusually small teeth in a broad, fleshy face.

“And nobody else,” Nesbitt added, and both men laughed.

“Thanks for coming, Judge. Sorry about the inconvenience.” Shiller was about fifty-five years old, with wide-set blue eyes and bushy gray eyebrows that looked dyed to match his wavy gray hair, expensively layered. He had a large, doughy fighter’s nose, and redness tinged his flat cheeks, as if he’d just come in from outside. “Oh, yeah, of course, call me Mitty.”

“That’s the nicest thing he’s been called recently,” Nesbitt said, and they laughed again. “Can I get you some coffee, Judge? Ours is the worst.”

“No, thanks, and I already make the worst.”

“Please, sit down.” Shiller waved a large hand at the stiff chair across from his desk, and Cate took one seat while Nesbitt took the other. A synthetic American flag stood in the corner of the room, slightly askew in its gold stand, next to a three-drawer set of file cabinets. Degrees and framed certificates hung on the scuffed walls. Shiller eased into his chair, which squeaked. “Judge, I’ll get right to the point. We have a problem with Frank Russo.”

“Clearly.” Cate told them what Russo had done to her house and office. “So at this point I’m afraid for my safety, and that of my staff.”

“Before we begin, you didn’t call the FBI, did you?”

“The marshals will, if they haven’t already.” Cate had known it would be the first thing Shiller asked. Everything was jurisdiction with the locals, and nobody wanted the FBI involved, least of all Cate. “I’m not that happy about it either, for obvious reasons.”

“It makes our job harder.”

“Understood, and I would like to keep this as confined as possible. I assume everything we say in here is confidential.”

“Goes without saying.”

Cate shifted forward on her uncomfortable chair. “Now, I understand that Russo stole the Simone file from Detective Nesbitt, and I want to know how that happened and what we can do about it.”

Nesbitt raised a hand, his good mood gone. “I can explain, Judge. Most of the detectives keep the files in unlocked drawers, and it’s nothing to go in and look through somebody else’s cases. It happens all the time. I don’t do that, not for my high-profile cases, because I don’t want any leaks to the press. Your case file was under lock and key in my desk drawer. I keep the key on my key ring.”

“Then how did Russo get it?”

“At some point, he must have gotten a copy of the key or made one, and he took the file and walked out with it. The up man saw him go this morning.”

“‘Up man’?”

“The detective who answers the phones at the front desk. We rotate, and he’s up.”

“And the up man didn’t stop him?”

“Why would he? He didn’t know he had it and he didn’t know it wasn’t Russo’s file. All the files look the same.”

“Didn’t anyone see him get it from your drawer?”

“No, and if they did, they wouldn’t have thought it was all that strange. We used to be partners. That’s how he knew where I kept sensitive cases.”

Cate felt her cheeks flush with anger. “Why did you keep it there, if you knew Russo was interested and the case was so sensitive? I mean, he was a key witness. He had a stake in winning.”

“Judge, I’m sorry.” Nesbitt met her eye, with regret. “I made a mistake. I never thought Russo would go into that drawer without my permission, much less break in and take a file.”

“It’s unprecedented,” Shiller added, leaning forward. “Unheard of, for one detective to do that to another. For all our joking around, I respect Nesbitt more than I can say. He’s the best on the squad and the most discreet. To tell you the truth, he’s next in line for my job.” Shiller nodded at Nesbitt, and Cate could see he felt bad enough.

“But why did Russo do that? Why did he want that file so badly?”

Nesbitt and Shiller exchanged glances. Then Nesbitt said, “Our best guess is that he’s been checking on the Simone file all along, without my knowing. After hours. It would be a way to keep tabs on the investigation because he knew I wouldn’t tell him what was going on. Then when the case was cleared and we were all out at the press conference, he took the file.”

Cate was confused. “So then he’s known about the record, and me, for a few days.”

“No.” Nesbitt shook his head. “Those records about you weren’t in the file until today. I kept them at home because they weren’t a part of the investigation, like I told you. I knew I wanted to show them to you. I even used my home copier to make the copies. This morning, after I left your office, I put the originals back in the file. Then I went to the press conference and when I came back, it was gone.”

Shiller cleared his throat, authoritatively. “Judge, you can rest assured that I’m having Internal Affairs investigate the matter completely. Russo will be put on immediate suspension, and he will be discharged, I can promise you that.”

Cate almost laughed. “What good will that do? He’s off the reservation, isn’t he? Breaking into my house, my chambers? Violating state and federal laws. He’s a Rottweiler off the leash.”

“We do have procedure-”

“Fire him if you want to, Sergeant, but I think he quit. I’m right, aren’t I?” Cate turned to Nesbitt because she knew he’d give her a straight answer, and his mustache tilted down at the corners.

“Frankly, yes.” Nesbitt looked at Shiller, then back at Cate.

“Did you talk to Russo about Marz’s suicide?”

“Yes, he called me after I left your chambers. He’d heard it on the news and he took it badly. He was upset. He really liked Marz.”

“Does he blame me for the death?”

“Yes.” Nesbitt checked with Shiller again. “I tried to reach him after I saw the file was gone, but he wasn’t answering his home or cell. I went to his apartment and he wasn’t there. His neighbor said he hasn’t been home for days. My guess it’s since the verdict.”

“What about Marz’s wife? Did you try her?”

“She hasn’t seen him. I went over. That’s where I was when you called this morning. I had turned the phone off because she’s in mourning. Shiva, and all.”

“Would she tell you, if she knew?”

“I think so.”

“Is Russo married?”

“They broke up, years ago.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

“Not that I know of. A kid at Penn State, and he hasn’t heard from him in months. They were never that close. He lived with the mother.”

Cate felt her gut tense, still raw from this morning. “So where is he?”

“We’re looking for him. We put out an APB. He’s a fugitive.”

“We’ll find him,” Shiller added firmly. “We’ll have him by the end of business today, if I have to go out and drag him in myself.”

Nesbitt shifted forward on his seat. “I did hear from him one other time, which is what I wanted to talk to you about. At about one o’clock today. I assume that was after he had been to your office.”

Cate did a rough calculation. “Yes. Why? What did he say?”

“He was angry. He had read the file and he was claiming he found mistakes in my investigation. My assumptions, even the lab results, et cetera.”

“Your investigation of what?”

“Of Simone’s murder.”

“Isn’t that over?”

“Not for him. Russo doesn’t think Marz killed Simone.”

Cate blinked. “Marz shot himself with the murder weapon.”

“Russo thinks the gun was planted. He’s got some crazy new theory.” Nesbitt glanced at Shiller again, and Cate saw their expressions tense, right before her eyes.

“What?” she asked, after a minute. “Why do you keep looking at each other? What’s going on here?”

Shiller answered, “Russo’s new theory is that you killed Simone.”

“What?” Cate almost fell off the chair. “Me? What? Why?”

“Don’t get upset, Judge,” Shiller said, but it was too late.

“Are you crazy? This mad dog thinks I killed his friend?” Cate turned wildly to Nesbitt. “What is going on? What did he say?”

“Judge.” Nesbitt put up his palm. “Don’t worry. We’ll get this under control. Russo’s a hothead and he had a big shock, with Marz’s suicide. He’ll calm down.”

Cate thought ahead, trying not to panic. “Tell me what he said. Where is he getting these ideas?”

“He saw the record, of what you do. At night.”

“Okay, my personal whereabouts.” Cate almost wasn’t embarrassed anymore. Nothing like a true emergency to put things into perspective. “And so what?”

“He figured out that Simone was having you followed.”

“He was. I checked. So?”

“He remembered that Simone had said something on the witness stand about making a TV series of your life, and that you didn’t look too happy about it, even though you made a joke. Did that happen?”

“Yes, but how does that make me a killer?”

“Russo thinks that you had Simone killed to prevent him from making a TV show about you. A TV series that exposed your, uh, personal life.”

Cate gasped, but it came out like a hiccup. “But I didn’t kill Simone. Marz did.”

“Russo doesn’t think Marz had it in him. He thinks you do.”

“He doesn’t even know me! This is crazy!”

“I agree. It’s not rational, Judge.”

“How can he think I shot Simone? Didn’t you say there was a videotape from the parking lot, and it shows Marz pulling the trigger?”

“The figure on the tape isn’t clear. It’s a short person in a baseball cap. We thought it was Marz, and the suicide confirms it. But Russo doesn’t agree.”

“I want to see it,” Cate said.

“We can’t. The only copy was in the file that Russo took.”

“But if it’s not Marz on the tape, who does Russo think it is?”

“He thinks it’s Partridge.”

“Partridge?”

“The man on the porn videotape.”

“I know who Partridge is, but-” Cate cut her sentence short. Oh my God. “He showed Partridge’s photo to my law clerk.”

“Because he thinks you hired Partridge to kill Simone, and that’s why you were paying him that night, on the tape. To shut him up because he was blackmailing you. And on the tape, he threw the money back at you. It looked like you were paying him and it wasn’t enough. He said, ‘You can’t pay me,’ remember?”

Cate found herself rising from the chair, as it dawned on her. She could see how Russo would think that. It made sense, but it was all wrong. “This is a nightmare. This whole day, this week. It’s a nightmare.”

“Judge, please, sit down.”

“No, I can’t.” Cate felt suddenly restless, as if she had to move. “Russo thinks I got away with the murder of his friend. That’s why he’s after me. He’s trying to see what he can find out. He’s investigating me for proof I was behind Simone’s murder.”

“He will calm down,” Nesbitt said, and Shiller stood up slowly.

“Obviously he’s having a hard time getting a grip on things, but he will, in a day or two. I remember when he got divorced, he was a mess for a week, then he was good as new.”

“I need protection, don’t I?”

“Not yet, Judge.” Shiller rocked back and forth on his feet. “Russo’s a little nuts right now, but he’ll come to his senses.”

“He tried to break into my house. I have two-by-fours for a back door.”

“That’s different from aggressing on you, physically. He won’t take it to that level.”

“Can you guarantee that, Sergeant?”

Shiller nodded. “One hundred percent.”

Oh, please. Cate turned instead to Nesbitt. “What do you think, by the book?”

“You need protection,” he answered, his eyes frank.

And Cate felt a tingle of true fear.