The Lost Years

38

On Wednesday afternoon, Assistant Prosecutor Peter Jones sat in his office with its floor-to-ceiling case files trying to absorb the information that had just been handed to him by Benet and Rodriguez. It was clear to him that Rita flat out believed that a mistaken arrest had been made. And it was clear that Simon was no longer confident that Kathleen Lyons was the killer.

Jones, forty-six, tall, and ruggedly handsome, a twenty-year veteran of the prosecutor’s office, was hoping for the top job when the boss retired in five months. His reputation as an aggressive but fair trial attorney gave him every reason to believe that he was the strongest candidate. But now a tsunami of dread was engulfing him. He thought of his own seventy-two-year-old mother, who had been showing early signs of dementia. The thought of her being led away in handcuffs for an offense she did not commit made his throat dry. A mental image of the frightened and bewildered Kathleen Lyons trembling in front of the judge burned in his mind.

If we’ve made a big mistake the newspapers will have a field day, he thought as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. They’ll run that picture of her looking pathetic over and over. It was on all the front pages yesterday. I might as well forget about the big job. I went over that evidence with a fine-tooth comb, he reminded himself grimly, and I still think she did it. For God’s sake, she was in the closet holding the gun and covered with his blood!

But now with that caretaker woman turning out to be an ex-con and disappearing, it’s a whole new ball game, he admitted to himself.

The buzzer on his office phone sounded. He was about to tell his secretary that he didn’t want to talk to anybody when she told him that a Mr. Joshua Schultz, an attorney from Manhattan, was on hold and was asking to speak to him about the Kathleen Lyons case. “He claims that he has some important information for you, Peter,” she said, her voice skeptical. “Do you want to talk to him?”

What more can be coming? Peter asked himself. “Put him through, Nancy,” he said.

“Assistant Prosecutor Peter Jones speaking,” he said briskly.

“First, Mr. Jones, thank you very much for accepting my call,” a smooth voice with a distinct New York accent said. “I’m Joshua Schultz and I practice criminal defense in Manhattan.”

“Yes, I have heard of you,” Peter said. And from what I’ve heard you’re no great shakes in court, he thought.

“Mr. Jones, I am contacting you with information that I believe is of the utmost importance in the Jonathan Lyons murder case. I represent a defendant named Wally Gruber, who is charged with a residential attempted burglary in Riverdale and also a residential burglary in Mahwah. My client is in custody at Rikers Island, and there is a detainer from New Jersey for the Mahwah case.”

“I’m aware of the Mahwah case,” Peter Jones said tersely.

“I have spoken to my client and he recognizes that he has little defense to the case in your jurisdiction. We have been informed that his fingerprints have been recovered from the scene. We have also been made aware that there is an ongoing investigation by the New York City police regarding other house burglaries in which the owners had parked their cars at the Manhattan garage where Mr. Gruber was employed prior to his recent arrest.”

“Go on,” Peter said, unable to even guess where the conversation was going.

“Mr. Jones, I am proffering to you that my client has informed me that when he was on the second floor of the Mahwah home during that burglary, he heard a gunshot coming from the house next door. He hurried to the window and saw someone running out of that house. I am not going to divulge now whether it was a man or woman, but I can say that the person’s head and face was covered by a scarf, which the person then pulled down, and that my client was able to see the face clearly. Mr. Gruber explained to me that there is a lamppost halfway down the front walkway that illuminated the area.”

There was a long pause as Peter Jones digested the fact that Schultz was obviously referring to the murder of Jonathan Lyons. “What are you trying to tell me?” he demanded.

“What I am saying to you is that Mr. Gruber has seen the picture of Kathleen Lyons in the newspaper, and he is emphatic that she is not the person who ran from the house. He is confident that he could sit with your composite officer and assist in producing a very accurate sketch of the person he saw. Of course, in exchange for his cooperation, he would expect considerable assistance from you in receiving reduced sentences in both New York and New Jersey.”

Peter felt as if the world was caving in on him. “It sounds pretty convenient that Mr. Gruber just happened to be there on that night and at that moment,” he said sarcastically. “The owners of the house next door to the Lyons residence were away for several weeks and that burglary could have been committed at any time during that period.”

“But, Mr. Jones, it wasn’t committed, as you put it, at any time during that period.” Schultz’s voice was now equally sarcastic. “It was being committed at the same time that Jonathan Lyons was being murdered. And we can prove that to you. Mr. Gruber drove his own car to New Jersey that night, but he was using stolen license plates and a stolen E-ZPass tag. At my request, his cousin went to a storage unit that Mr. Gruber rents and retrieved the plates and the tag. I have them. The tag is from an Infiniti sedan owned by an Owen Morley, a long-time customer of the garage where Mr. Gruber worked. Mr. Morley is in Europe this month. The tag will show a debit for that night. I am sure that if you check the account tied to the E-ZPass tag he used, it will corroborate my client’s admission that he drove across the George Washington Bridge from New Jersey to New York approximately forty-five minutes after Jonathan Lyons was shot.”

Peter Jones struggled to choose his words carefully and to sound calm. “Mr. Schultz, you must understand that your client’s credibility is at best highly suspect. Based upon what you have told me, however, I believe that I have an ethical obligation to interview him. We will see where it goes. Mr. Gruber might have been there at the same time, but how do I know that he isn’t simply going to invent a face and claim it’s the one he saw leaving the Lyons home?”

“Mr. Jones, this is a fascinating case that I was following even before Mr. Gruber retained me. It seems to me that if Mrs. Lyons was not involved, then that shot might have been fired by someone else who was close to the victim. From what I have read, this case has no markings of a random intruder. I believe that it is very possible that if a high-quality composite is made, the face may end up being recognized by the family or friends of the victim.”

“As I just told you,” Peter snapped, “I recognize my ethical duty to follow up on this, but I am certainly not promising you anything in advance. I want to speak to Mr. Gruber, and I want to see those license plates. We will check out the E-ZPass charge to Mr. Morley’s account. If, after that, we decide to have him sit down with our composite officer, we will see where the sketch takes us. You have my word that any meaningful cooperation will be brought to the attention of his sentencing judges. I absolutely refuse to get any more specific at this point.”

Schultz’s voice became angry and cold. “I don’t think Mr. Gruber will be very responsive to such a vague offer. Perhaps I should simply give this information to Mr. Scott, who represents Kathleen Lyons. It is most ironic that he is the victim in this burglary, and I assume he would have to advise Mrs. Lyons to obtain new counsel. But I have read that the families are close friends, and I am sure any information that would assist in exonerating this innocent woman would be most welcome. And I have no doubt that Mr. Scott would ensure that my client’s cooperation is brought to the attention of the sentencing judges.”

Peter sensed that Schultz was about to hang up. “Mr. Schultz,” he said emphatically, “you and I are both experienced criminal lawyers. I have never laid eyes on Mr. Gruber, but I do know he is a criminal and looking to benefit himself. It would be totally irresponsible of me to make more specific promises at this point and you know it. If any information he gives us turns out to be of importance, I assure you that his cooperation will be brought to the attention of his sentencing judges.”

“Not good enough, sir,” Schultz retorted. “Let me suggest something. I will wait two days before contacting Mr. Scott. I suggest that you reflect further on my offer. I will call you again on Friday afternoon.

“Have a good day.”