Dog Tags

CHAPTER 73

WE ARE IN DEEP TROUBLE. I probably shouldn’t say “we,” since it is my client, Billy Zimmerman, who is really the one in trouble. If we lose this case, and that’s the direction we’re heading, he is the one who will have to spend the rest of his life in prison. I will still get to go home, and sleep with Laurie, and play with Tara, and watch Giants games in the fall.

I will be upset, and I’ll feel guilty, but my life will go on. Billy’s, for all intents and purposes, will not.

I have a few minutes’ time for conversation with Billy before the start of court, and he broaches the subject straight-out. “How do you think we’re doing?” he asks.

“At this point, we’re behind.”

He seems surprised. “Really? I think you’re getting your points across.”

“I probably am, but they’re the wrong points. I’m talking about conspiracy theories and people missing and murders happening halfway around the world. Eli’s talking about a guy on an Edgewater street with a gun and a dead body.”

“So we’re going to lose?”

“At this point it’s more likely than not. But we’re making good progress in our investigation outside of court, and that gives us a fighting chance.”

I start to detail what we’ve learned, but I don’t get to finish because Judge Catchings enters the courtroom. Today is going to be a short day, because the judge has some personal business to attend to this afternoon. I’d be fine if he had a month’s worth of personal business.

My first witness is Nina Rodriguez, a patron at the bar that night who is one of the few people who saw the events remotely close to the way I want them to be seen.

She testifies that she was walking out of the bar and across the street when she happened to look over and see Erskine talking with a man. Less than thirty seconds later, gunshots were fired and chaos erupted.

“Was the victim talking to the defendant?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. This man was taller; I mean, he could have been a basketball player. The other man, the man who died, looked up at him when he talked.”

“You could see that from where you were?”

“Yes.”

“What happened after you heard the shots?”

“Well, I thought it was firecrackers, but my boyfriend, he knew what it was. So he pulled me behind a car, and we waited a couple of minutes. Some men ran by us at first, toward the shooting, but we waited. When we finally looked up, there were people everywhere, and Mr. Zimmerman was standing next to the body.”

I turn her over to Eli, who has little difficulty in diluting the effect of her testimony. He demonstrates how difficult it is to tell height from that distance, in that light. Besides, as he points out, Billy is six foot two, and Erskine was five ten. Erskine would have been looking up at Billy as well.

Next I call Pete Stanton, whom I will use as a character witness for Billy. They came up in the force together, and Pete was anxious to do it. I haven’t gotten a chance to do a final prep session with Pete this morning; he arrived as court was beginning. But I have no doubt that he’ll handle things fine. He’s an experienced witness.

As he walks toward the stand, he passes me and whispers under his breath, “We need to talk.”

I don’t know what to make of that; I’m certain he doesn’t mean the talk we’re about to have in front of the jury. I’m worried that he somehow has ominous news, but I’ll have to wait until court is over to hear it.

Pete handles himself very well, powerfully defending Billy’s character, courage, and honesty, and Eli’s cross-examination is quick. He points out that Pete and Billy had spent very little time together since Billy got back from Iraq, the implication being that Billy’s injury and desire for revenge turned him into a different person.

But basically Eli has little desire to tangle with Pete on the stand, and he knows that the testimony is just not that damaging. Fortunately for me, he’s taken enough time that Pete is the last witness of the day, and Catchings adjourns the session.

I walk over to Pete, but before I can say anything, he says, “Let’s grab a sandwich.”

We go over to the diner near the courthouse. If Pete is taking me to such an inexpensive place to eat, it means the goal is not to drain me of my money. It’s to tell me something important.

Even before we order, he gets right down to it. “If anybody finds out where you got this, I will chop up your body and feed it piece by piece to sharks.”

“I don’t think I’ll order the fish.”

“I mean it. They won’t be able to identify you with dental records.”

“Pete, you have my word. Now, will you land the plane already?”

That’s good enough for him, so he continues. “A good friend of mine on the force, who shall remain nameless, told me something today. A body was fished out of the Passaic River, and he took the call.”

I have no idea where this is going, but I don’t want to interrupt and ask questions. It will only delay hearing the rest.

“The body had ID on it. A guy by the name of Jerry Harris. He’s a hired gun out of Philadelphia; doesn’t come cheap. I checked it out, Jerry Harris was six foot six.”

This completely gets my attention, but Pete isn’t finished.

“My friend is upset, because since he found the body he hasn’t heard a thing. Nobody’s been assigned to it, and as far as we know a case file hasn’t been opened.”

“When was the body found?” I ask.

“Three days after Erskine was killed. So my friend asked the captain why he hasn’t heard anything, and the captain said he couldn’t talk about it. That the feds put a lid on it.”

I let this sink in for a few moments. It can have monumental implications for my case, though at this moment I don’t know what they are, or how I can manipulate them.

“You know I have to use this,” I say.

He nods. “Yeah, I know.”

I thank Pete and leave, after doing two things that he insists on. One is to promise once again that I will not mention his name in this, and the other is to pay the check. They seem of equal importance to him.

When I get home, I tell Laurie what I’ve learned. “The FBI has been all over this from day one,” she says.

I nod. “It’s time to find out why.”

I call Cindy Spodek, who can tell from the fact that I don’t engage in preliminary banter that this is serious. “Cindy, I need to meet with the agent at the FBI who is in charge of the Erskine case.”

Cindy certainly has not been involved in it, so she’s not sure what to make of the request. “How do you know there is such a person? Just because you have an Erskine case doesn’t mean the bureau does.”

“Take my word for it. Please ask your boss to get the word to the agent in charge that we need to meet.”

“Why would that person agree to it?”

“Just say I want to talk about three things. Oil, Jerry Harris, and rhodium.”