Innocent

CHAPTER 14

Tommy, October 29, 2008

I know you got something," Tommy Molto told Brand when he met him outside the Central Branch Courthouse. Jim was on trial, dressed in a nifty glen plaid, a better suit than any prosecutor really could afford. Molto sometimes told Brand that he must have secretly been born Italian. The case he was trying was a triple murder in which one of the victims was the niece of the movie star Wanda Pike. Gorgeous and mournful, Wanda was in court along with her posse every day. Knowing that would occur, Brand had decided to keep the case rather than letting somebody more junior from the Homicide Division handle it. Jimmy had never been confused about the fact he liked seeing himself on TV. The trial was on lunch recess, and Brand had come outside to meet the boss. He was going to be cold. It was a brisk day with a sabering wind and scuffy, ugly clouds.

"How's that?" asked Brand.

"How's what?"

"How you know I got something?"

"Because you wouldn't haul my ass out across the street, or take time for lunch meetings in the middle of trial, unless you did."

"Maybe I think you need exercise. Maybe I like to see you busting down the street like a pigeon." Brand actually thrust out his belly and walked a few steps in imitation. Jimmy was way too cheerful. This was going to be good. Tommy gestured him inside, but they were waiting for Rory Gissling, who came along in a minute bundled in a heavy coat and bright scarf. She had a manila envelope under her arm.

They reentered the courthouse and went upstairs to find someplace to talk. Judge Wallach's courtroom was open, and they huddled together on the corner of one of the plush benches, Rory between the two prosecutors.

"Show him," Brand told her.

"So we subpoenaed Barbara's pharmacy for all the receipts, refills, all the records in the month before she died," Rory said. She took a quarter inch of paper out of her envelope.

"Show him the receipt for the phenelzine," said Brand.

Rory thumbed through the pages, then handed a copy of a charge slip to the PA. Paying for the purchase of the phenelzine, it was dated September 25, last month, and plainly showed Rusty Sabich's signature. Brand was grinning like a kid at Christmas.

"You mind?" Tommy said, and took the rest of the papers from Rory. He flipped through the stack. "Rusty picks up all the prescriptions," he said. "That's what it looks like."

"Eighty, ninety percent," Rory answered.

"So?" Tommy asked.

"He picked up the phenelzine," Brand said.

"So?" Tommy asked again.

"Show him the stuff for the day before she died," said Brand.

Rory pulled several sheets from the ones in Tommy's hand. Rusty had signed the charge slip for the purchase on a renewal of Barbara's sleeping pills on September 28.

"I thought we were looking at a phenelzine overdose," Molto said.

"Look at the dupe of the register tape," said Brand. "The back page there. It's the other stuff he bought you need to see."

Tommy took a second to decode the abbreviations, but the tape appeared to reflect a bottle of Rioja, pickled herring, Genoa salami, and some aged cheddar, as well as a quart of plain yogurt. The PA needed a little more time before it clicked.

"That stuff all reacts with the drug, right?" he asked. "It's got whoesy whatsit in it, all of it?"

"Tyramine. All of it." Brand bobbed his head. "He literally bought the entire no-no food group. Could turn a normal dose of phenelzine lethal. And a quadruple dose into a sure thing. I'd say the judge was preparing a different kind of Last Supper."

Tommy looked at the slip again. The time of purchase was 5:32 p.m.

"They're having cocktails," he said.

"What?" Brand slid over. "Where do you get that from?"

"He went to the store at dinnertime. He bought a bottle of wine and some appetizers. They're having cocktails, Jim."

"Yogurt?" asked Brand.

"For the dip," Tommy said.

"Dip?" asked Brand.

"Yeah, if you're being healthy, you use yogurt instead of sour cream. And speaking of dips," said Tommy to Brand, "with your dad's history, you oughta know stuff like that. You ever hear of cholesterol?" Tommy spelled it for him, and Brand waved him off. Rory added some sage words about her dad, who'd just had a bypass. Brand ignored them and stuck to the case.

"We got him, don't we?" he asked. "It's right there, isn't it?"

Tommy could feel the weight as his chief deputy and the detective watched him. Brand had been sold for a long time, but that wasn't the point. The call on this case was going to be Tommy's entirely. The risks were all on his tab, and he was the one who had to be satisfied. And when he added it up, he still wasn't. Rusty's grocery list looked pretty damning, but they were still trying to make a lot out of stuff a defense lawyer would call coincidental.

"We're closer," Tommy said quietly.

"Boss!" Brand protested. He began to go through all the evidence, and Tommy had to warn him to keep his voice down. The last thing they needed was a reporter walking into the courtroom and overhearing all this.

"Jimmy, you two have tumbled to some amazing stuff. But it's all circumstantial. You don't need me to tell you the way somebody like Sandy Stern will pick this case apart. 'Who has not gone to the store to pick up groceries, a prescription, ladies and gentlemen?'" Tommy did a better imitation than he expected of Stern's mild accent. "You've seen Stern sell snake oil. And the biggest problem is never going away. Our own expert will get up on the witness stand and admit on cross-examination she has no way to exclude sixteen other causes of death besides murder. It's light. The case is too light. We need something else."

"Where the fuck do I get something else?" Brand demanded. That was the point, of course. "How about the DNA?" he asked after a second.

Tommy had been thinking a lot about that lately, when he was up with Tomaso in the middle of the night, and he'd realized the DNA was not the answer. But he didn't want to get into that in front of Rory and simply said what he'd been saying for weeks: "Not yet."

Brand looked at his watch. He had to get back to court. He stood up and backpedaled as he headed out.

"I'm not giving up, Boss."

Tommy laughed out loud. "I wasn't worried about that."