Presumption of Guilt (12 page)

C
HAPTER

20

“D
id any of you kill Joe and Sarah?” The elder man fixed his stare on the face of each of the three men assembled with him in the Manhattan hotel room, a mid-priced property he’d chosen for its anonymity. The men, each in turn, shook their heads.

“Understand me clearly. I’m not just asking if you personally killed them. I’m asking if you are responsible for their murders; if you hired someone to do the job.”

Again, the three men shook their heads and murmured, “No.”

The elder man sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. He was many things, but not a murderer. Still, if one of the men in the room had overstepped the boundaries, whether out of fear or greed, he knew he would do whatever was in his power to protect him. Were they lying to him? He thought it possible. Which one, though? None of them seemed like he had the backbone for it. A young woman had been convicted of the crime, and they had all breathed a sigh of relief. Whether or not she was guilty had no relevance to them. It only mattered that, with her conviction, their secret remained safe. Now they were once again in jeopardy of exposure. He got up from his chair, went to the dresser, and poured himself a drink from the bottle of scotch room service had delivered earlier.

“Would any of you gentlemen care for another?” he asked.

They shook their heads glumly.

The elder man took his seat again. He took a sip of the scotch, then said, “It doesn’t matter to me if one of you handled the matter in the most extreme way. It’s not what I would have done, but we can’t look back. I need to know the truth in order to ensure our safety going forward. The way in which I handle it will depend on whether the girl is guilty or innocent. Do you all understand?”

The men nodded, then one said, “It’s going to come out anyway.”

Unable to keep his anger in check, he barked at them, “Do you doubt my ability to control things? If so, you’re a liability and no one in this room should trust you.”

The men all spoke their reassurances, and the elder man’s body relaxed.

“Fine. Then this is what we’re going to do. You’re all to leave this room, except you,” he said, pointing to one of the men. “I will speak to you each one by one. If you’ve been embarrassed to tell me the truth in front of the others, you can tell me when we’re alone. I won’t judge you. As I said, I need the truth to know how to fix things.”

The men nodded, then two left the room while one stayed seated. After a few minutes, that man exited the room and another went in, and then, finally, the last. When the elder man had spoken to each of them, he understood what he needed to do.

C
HAPTER

21

E
llen Michaels’s home, although stately, didn’t come close to matching the extravagance of her ex-husband’s Miami Beach palace. Tommy drove up the long, tree-lined drive to a colonial-style two-story home with manicured lawns and a wraparound front porch. Two red rocking chairs on the porch matched the red front door. He rang the bell, and after a few moments the door was opened by a smartly dressed woman. Her chin-length chestnut-brown hair was silky straight, and large gold earrings hung from her ears. Tommy estimated that she was in her mid-fifties, still attractive, and her well-toned arms and slim body suggested she spent time in a gym.

“Thanks for meeting with me, Mrs. Michaels.”

“Please, call me Ellen.”

Her voice was gentle, her smile was warm, and Tommy felt immediately at ease with her. He followed her into the living room, which was furnished with a deeply cushioned beige-leather sofa and two club chairs upholstered in a brocade fabric. A richly colored oriental rug covered the wide-planked wood floor, and a large stone fireplace took up most of one wall.

“So, how can I help you with Molly’s case?” she asked when they were settled.

“Do you mind if I ask you some personal questions first?”

“It depends on the questions.”

“When did you and Mr. Michaels divorce?”

Ellen was quiet for a moment. She brushed back her hair, then fluffed a sofa pillow. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. “How can that possibly help you with Molly’s appeal?”

“I’m not sure. I’m following a gut feeling. But if I’m right, it may.”

Ellen sighed. “Our divorce was finalized eleven years ago.”

“Would you mind telling me the reasons for the divorce?”

“I’m afraid I do mind.”

Tommy put down his pencil and looked directly at Ellen. “I know this seems off base to you, but it really may help Molly.”

“But how? Whatever our differences, Quince adored Molly. And Joe was like a brother to him.”

Tommy hesitated. He knew his next question was a leap, but he decided to take a chance. “Did the divorce have anything to do with the construction of the Hudson County jail?”

Ellen blanched. “I—I can’t talk about that.”

She knows. She’s afraid.
“We know that your husband and Joe Singer skimmed money from the jail. We know others were involved as well.” Tommy paused, then continued softly. “It’s possible that the Singers were murdered because of it.”

Tears began to roll down Ellen’s cheeks. She got up from her seat and went into the kitchen, where she retrieved a box of tissues. When she returned to the living room, her body seemed deflated.

“How did you find out?”

That was it. The confirmation Tommy had hoped for. Until now, all they had were the anonymous letters—worth squat as evidence. “We have a source. I can’t tell you who. Charges are going to be brought against your husband. Yourself, too, probably, unless you cooperate.”

Now the tears flowed freely. Tommy waited for them to subside before he said, “Tell me what you know about it.”

Ellen stuffed the wet tissue in her pocket and patted down the skirt of her dress before placing her hands in her lap and lacing her fingers together. When she looked up at Tommy, her face seemed filled with sadness. “I knew something was going on, but he didn’t talk to me about it. The
Hudson Valley Dispatch
ran daily stories about the cost overruns. It wasn’t like Quince and Joe. They were good at pricing jobs. Whenever I questioned Quince about it he said it couldn’t be helped.”

“So when did you learn they were skimming?”

“Quince was off playing golf one Sunday and I couldn’t stand it anymore. My parents were coming to visit, and his office was a disaster area. I knew he wouldn’t want me to, but I straightened it up anyway. Papers were strewn over his desk, and when I started to put them into one pile, I saw an envelope from a bank in Belize. It had his name over the name of a company I didn’t recognize. I opened it up and saw a statement for an account with fourteen million dollars in it. I was shocked. As soon as he came home, I questioned him about it.”

“What did he tell you?”

Ellen began fidgeting with her hands. She started to speak, then stopped herself. Instead, she got up from her chair and walked over to the window overlooking the tree-lined backyard. Tommy remained silent, waiting until she was ready. Finally, she turned around to him and said, “This is my favorite time of year. I couldn’t bear to miss it.” She walked back to her seat and sat down. “Am I going to go to jail? Do I need a lawyer?”

“I’m not an attorney,” Tommy said softly. “But it sounds to me like your ex-husband broke the law, not you.”

“Even if I kept quiet about it?”

“Even then. There’s a marital privilege. You couldn’t have been compelled to testify against your husband, much less turn him in.”

Ellen exhaled deeply. “He was very angry that I’d been going through his papers, but I wouldn’t let it go. I kept insisting he tell me where the money came from. When he said, ‘the jail,’ I wanted to die. I grew up in Hudson County. My family has been here for generations. Everyone knows me and I know everyone. I begged him to give it back. He laughed at me. It was the beginning of the end of our marriage. When we divorced, I refused to take any money from that account.”

Fourteen million dollars. The final tab on the jail was almost thirty-five million over the bid price. Who got the rest? Was it Joe Singer? Was anyone else in on the scam? All these questions needed answers, but one question was paramount: Was Joe Singer killed to silence him? Tommy looked over at Ellen. “Did your husband ever tell you who else took money from the jail project?”

“No.”

“Did Joe?”

“I don’t know. He was such a straight arrow. I can’t imagine him cheating the county, but then I never thought Quince would either.”

“Now, here’s the most important question. Did you ever hear anyone threaten Quince or Joe about the money?”

Ellen shook her head. “But when I tried to push Quince for more answers, he told me it was better I didn’t know, that my ignorance would keep me safe.”

Back in the office, Tommy recounted his conversation with Ellen Michaels for Dani and Melanie. “Hey, I thought you’d be more excited about this,” he said to Dani.

Dani herself was a little surprised by her subdued reaction. Part of it was certainly fatigue—her ribs were getting better, but it was still hard to get a good night’s sleep. “No, it’s good,” she said, smiling at him. “It means the anonymous letter writer was right about money being skimmed from the jail. It’s just—it’s a giant leap from theft and fraud to murder. Even if Michaels, and probably others, engaged in massive theft, it doesn’t mean Joe and Sarah Singer were killed to keep them quiet about it. We need something to tie the two together.”

“Doesn’t it create an alternative motive for the murders?” Melanie asked.

“Sure,” Dani answered. “And if Molly were being tried now for the first time, it would be great information to have. The jury might believe it more likely that they were killed for that reason than because their seventeen-year-old daughter was spoiled. But it’s not a first trial. It isn’t even an appeal. ‘Might’ isn’t good enough. We have to convince the judge that this is new information which would probably change the verdict.”

“We can’t even be sure that Joe Singer knew about the skimming,” Tommy pointed out. “Ellen had no idea who else was involved.”

Dani stood up and started to pace. “We have a bigger problem. Ellen was still married to Quince when he admitted to the skimming. She can’t testify to it because of the marital privilege.”

“Yup,” Tommy muttered.

“Let’s not get discouraged. We still have a lot of work to do, but it’s progress. Let’s lock it down if we can. Can you get Ellen Michaels to sign an affidavit? Even if we can’t use her statement at a hearing, it may be useful in other ways.”

“Maybe. She seemed genuinely concerned about Molly.”

“Okay. You go ahead with that. And let’s all of us try to figure out who else might have been involved.”

The meeting over, Dani looked through the file once more. It was her practice to reread documents many times, and nearly always she’d find new tidbits on subsequent readings. When she got to Finn’s testimony, she paused. It had never felt right to her that he’d testified against Molly, especially considering that by the time her trial had come up, he’d known she was pregnant with his child.

Finn’s father was at the top of Dani’s list of potential participants in the theft scheme. Could he have had something to do with Finn’s testifying against Molly? She picked up the phone on her desk. It was time to set up a meeting with Finn Reynolds.

C
HAPTER

22

T
he elder man waited in the hotel room. When the knock on the door came, he opened it to his visitor. “Do you want a drink?” he asked his guest. The visitor shook his head.

Both men sat down in the two club chairs by the window. The heavy curtains were closed.

“Why am I here?” the visitor asked.

The elder man took his time. He was embarking on a course he’d once thought impossible for him. Yes, he’d relished power. And had used that power to obtain personal wealth. But he wasn’t a monster. At least, he hadn’t thought he was. Still, he’d always known what needed to be done and had taken steps to ensure it happened. This time could be no different. “The investigator knows about Quince’s take on the jail.”

“How?”

“Ellen Michaels.”

“How did you find out?”

“She called Quince and told him.”

The visitor spread his fingers and ran them through his thinning hair. He waited for the elder man to continue.

“Quince says we shouldn’t worry. He’ll say Ellen is bitter over the divorce and made it up.”

“Do you think that will end it?”

With a note of sadness in his voice, the elder man said, “No.”

“You want me to take care of it?”

“Yes.”

“And I have your blessing on this?”

Reluctantly he answered, “Yes.”

The visitor nodded. He knew what he had to do
.

C
HAPTER

23

F
inn paced nervously by the front door. That lawyer—Dani Trumball—was due any moment. Almost as soon as he’d agreed to the interview he’d regretted the decision. He felt caught in a tug-of-war, both sides pulling so hard he felt he might tear in two. It was time for him to do the right thing, but what was right? His father had given him life, had nurtured and loved him. Once, he thought it was his duty to protect his father. Was that still true? Or was his duty to his daughter higher? Didn’t she have the right to be with her mother?

His pacing stopped when the doorbell rang. He put his hand on the doorknob to open it, yet hesitated. He didn’t know what to say. At the second ring, he opened the door and pasted on a smile. “You must be Dani Trumball.” The woman before him was smartly dressed in a navy pinstriped pantsuit and a pale-violet silk blouse. Her dark-brown hair cascaded in waves down to her shoulders. Although she only came up to his chin, she had an air of authority.

“And you must be Finn Reynolds.”

“I am.” He waved her inside and brought her into his living room. He was grateful that Kim was, once again, at the gym. He felt jittery enough without his wife scrutinizing everything he said about Molly.