The Adored (45 page)

“Maybe that’s where I got it. Your buddy Chief Brennan used to say the same thing.”

Chapter 62

“Walsh!” Boriello said to the detective as he approached his cubicle.

“What’s up, Lieutenant,” John Walsh said as he lifted his head and spied Vito Boriello.

“I need a little time to talk. What’s good for you?”

“I’m OK now. Where?”

“My office.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Walsh said somewhat puzzled since, while he knew Boriello, they were not working together on any case. Maybe, Walsh thought, since the Lieutenant was retiring, it was about his position. Something that Walsh saw himself ready for.

Walsh walked into Boriello’s office, and Boriello motioned with his head in a way that said, “Shut the door.”

“I’m working on an aspect of an old case of yours, and I have a few questions.”

“Sure, which case?”

“Curtis Strong.”

“OK, which one?”

“Which one?” Boriello repeated back to Walsh.

“Yeah, I had two. The father or the son.”

“The son,” Boriello said, getting it. But then he added, “Maybe you could tell me about both. Kind of strange to have had major cases with both a father and a son.”

“Strange as hell, Lieutenant,” Walsh said, now a little suspicious that Boriello knew they were both major cases. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

“No, not right now,” Boriello decided he would not put Walsh at ease, not yet. “Just tell me about the cases, beginning with the oldest one.”

“The father, Curtis Strong Sr.,” Walsh began, and finding himself ill at ease, proceeded cautiously. “There was an argument in a pool hall on the West Side. A bunch of guys had been drinking. We were on drug patrol. Came into a situation that escalated quickly. Strong had a friend who got belligerent, made a move on me and my partner. I pulled my gun, Strong stepped in closer. I fired. He went down. Dead at the scene,” he paused. Then began, “The son, he...”

“Hold up. Before we get to the son, “Boriello said

“Yes”

“Well, I know this is a long time ago, but why’d you pull your gun in that situation?”

“Self-defense.”

“Had Strong or his friend touched you?”

“No, Lieutenant,” Walsh said through teeth clenched in a tightened jaw. “Hey, what’s this about? I was cleared of that.”

“I’m curious. Why’d you fire?”

“I saw Strong’s friend as a threat. Strong came even closer. It was dark; there were a lot of guys in the shadows. It got out of hand pretty fast. It was an accident,” Walsh said, now sweating profusely from his forehead.

“OK, thanks. Now tell me about the son’s case.”

“Completely different. No link at all. Just weird fate to have caught both cases.”

“Tell me about it,” Boriello said, pushing away from the desk, hands behind his head.

“Two of my guys picked it up when a drug dealer got knifed.”

“Your guys?”

“We didn’t have a sergeant in homicide then; I was acting.”

“Didn’t you make it right around that time, detective sergeant?”

“Yes,” Walsh felt fear. There was a man leaning back in his chair with a fat belly sticking out who knew something and wasn’t saying what it was. He had to be careful. Something wasn’t right. He was being asked all these questions, and he didn’t like the course of discussion. He would play along but only for a little while longer.

“OK, so your two guys,” and Boriello emphasized “your,” “they draw the case and what about it.”

“Well, as you said, I made detective sergeant shortly after this case and Strong’s conviction. I knew I was up for it. So I watched cases like this very closely, evidence chain of custody, forensics, crime scene thoroughness, witnesses interviews, meetings with DA, witness preparation, you name it, I was bird dogging this case. It was one of the first murder cases I was acting sergeant on.”

“So you would have worked on witness preparation with the DA before going to the stand?”

“I already said that. Yes, I wanted to make sure we crossed every t and dotted every i.”

“And you had to make sure they got the facts right, I mean, what they witnessed?”

“Yes. In this case, there was just one witness who saw Strong clearly, saw him stab the guy.”

“Now, as part of my research, I talked with the witness and she said she recognized Strong from the neighborhood, but she never really did see him stab anyone. She said he was in the alleyway, and she could see the two men, one lying on the ground, which was why she called out.”

“That’s not what she said to me, and that’s not what she said on the stand to the jury.”

“Well, that’s another problem. You see, it seems like the jury got worked over too.”

“Stop right there, Lieutenant. No one got worked over, and if anyone is telling you this, they’re full of shit. We went by the book. This was a simple case of robbery/murder. Cut and dry.”

“Tell me, detective,” Boriello said, “did you or your guys think that Strong could be innocent? That he was telling the truth? “

“Why? Why would I think that? He did it. All the evidence pointed to him. His thumb print, the bloody sneaker in his room, an eye witness who testified under oath it was Strong she saw stab Santos. Why would I think Strong was telling the truth? That’s his attorney’s job.”

“And how about his attorney, do you think he gave him good representation?”

“He didn’t say much. Hell, what could he say, we had his client dead to right,” Walsh said, gaining confidence, enough now to go on the offensive. “All right, Lieutenant, now it’s time for you to answer a few questions.”

“I’m not through.”

“I’m through talking until you tell me what the hell this is about,” Walsh said, sitting forward and about to rise from the chair.

“Tell me about the Stevens shooting.”

“No, you tell me what the hell this is about.”

“It’s about too many coincidences. I need you to help me sort these out. First the two Strongs and then Stevens. All three major cases, all three involving deaths, all three related to the Strongs.”

“Billy Stevens was a murderer, and I took him down—another department commendation for that and for protecting my fellow officers who were in danger from Stevens.”

“And what, if anything, did Stevens say to you after he was shot.”

“Nothing. Two shots and dead.”

“What did he say to you about Curtis Strong?”

Walsh grew red in his big Irish face. Inside the red was fire. He could pick this fat little man up and crush him. Who was he to question me about getting the scum of the earth off the streets of Stamford?

“Whose side are you on? What’s going on here? Do I need representation?” Walsh said, breaking a bit.

“If you feel you do, by all means, that is up to you. But I’ve been told that there is an innocent man in Auburn Federal Prison. Can you help me out here?” Boriello said, trying to give Walsh an opportunity to tell the truth.

“Sorry, Lieutenant, but I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“What if I told you that Curtis Strong is innocent? That the person who killed Augusto Santos is not Curtis Strong, but Billy Stevens. And what if I also told you that you are aware of this.”

“You’ve got some rich imagination, Lieutenant.”

“I’ve also got two witnesses that say you know this.”

“And who might they be, members of the Strong family.”

“No, members of our family.”

“Cops. No way.”

“You can do this the easy way or we can take it the next step.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m telling you what is going to happen next. Nothing is set in concrete yet. But when this conversation is over, I’ll be thanking you for your assistance or reading you your rights.”

Walsh was done in. The anger subsided, the rage calmed and strangely the fear was gone. “Yes, Lieutenant, Stevens did tell me that he killed Santos. I didn’t believe him. I thought it was just a ploy to get his buddy out of jail.”

“Why isn’t that in your report on Stevens? There is nothing about a discussion, an admission of a crime by Stevens.”

“Because I didn’t believe the bastard. He was trying to do one good thing before he croaked.”

“What else isn’t in the report?”

“That’s all.”

“What about Parker Barnes.”

The fear returned. He was so drunk that night two weeks ago he almost forgot. So it was the cops who were there with him who ratted him out. But Barnes, how did that get into the conversation. Stevens never said that. Did I say that? So drunk that I took what Al Paiva had me help him with seven years ago, the cover-up of Augusto Santos murder by Parker Barnes and the framing of Curtis Strong.

“Where’d you get that name,” Walsh began a new stonewall.

“This is what was reported you told others. That Stevens first said he killed Santos and then he said Parker Barnes killed Santos.”

“Well, Stevens never said that. He said he did it. I saw it as a friend trying to help a friend so I dismissed it.”

“And Barnes?”

“No part at all in it.”

“Why’d you bring the name up?”

“This came from the night at the Colony?”

“Part of it.”

“Lieutenant, I was bombed. It was story time. We were laughing and having a good time, and I took it to another level of bullshit.”

“So you will confirm that Stevens did tell you that Strong was innocent.”

“What do you mean confirm.”

“There’s an innocent man in prison.”

“He’s not innocent; he’s guilty as sin. Stevens was trying to save his ass.”

“Sergeant Walsh, that’s not up to you to determine. I need you to confirm in writing what Stevens told you, to make it an official part of your police report. Will you do this?”

“Why, so you can let a killer out?

“How about we let the judge decide?

“Do I have a choice?

“No,” Boriello said firmly.

With a limited written admission by Walsh of what he omitted in hand, one that Walsh gave up grudgingly, one that confirmed Stevens’ dying confession of guilt and Strong’s innocence, Boriello did two things. He went to the presiding judge of the Stamford Superior Court and got an order for a hearing for Curtis Strong. The second thing he did, and he wasn’t sure how far to push this, is with Chief Brennan’s agreement, he got Walsh placed on administrative duty until the issue was resolved. The administrative duty was on the graveyard shift from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m.; enough to keep Walsh unhinged.

“What the hell gives, Captain,” Walsh said to Captain Al Paiva, to whom he reported, when the Captain told him of the decision to place him on administrative duty until after the hearing on Strong.

“Look, Boriello has dug in real deep on this,” Paiva said.

“Yeah, and it’s my ass he’s hanging out to dry.”

“Patience, Johnny,” Paiva counseled.

“Patience my ass,” Walsh replied. He hated it when someone, anyone, called him Johnny, as if he were twelve.

“Boriello retires in two weeks. They’re setting up a hearing for Strong in the next week. No one cares about you—they just want to get Strong out. Bunch of freaking do-gooders.”

“Well it looks like his freedom is coming at my expense,” Walsh exhaled.

“Just take this, suck it up. You’ll enjoy the peace and quiet of the 11-7. They get their hearing, the kid gets out, Vito retires, and I bring you back to your duties.”

“And what about the Lieutenant’s position when Boriello goes?” the ever ambitious Walsh pushed.

“One thing at a time, Johnny, one thing at a time,” Pavia said, shaking his head as Walsh left his office. Then Pavia thought to himself, “the fucking gall. Bagged and looks for a promotion.”

Walsh thought about telling Pavia that he screwed up by opening the murder door on Parker Barnes when he was drunk, but he decided to keep that to himself for the time being. He might need Paiva and an ace in the hole to get Paiva to help him out of this jam. After all he reasoned, it was Paiva in the background who helped him in the CJ Strong case by keeping pressure on the judge to not buy into a hung jury. It was Paiva who would continue to benefit from Barnes’ senior’s largess if they could keep Parker Barnes out of the picture for committing the murder of Augusto Santos. It was their dirty little secret that Paiva and Walsh knew CJ Strong never killed Santos.

Chapter 63

Parker Barnes put together Tray Johnson’s “going back to Paki-land” party at England, a Soho style dance club that resided in the quarters of a former hedge fund that went belly up. The building sat on the Connecticut/New York border in Greenwich.

It was the last time the friends could get together before Tray returned to Kabul and then special operations across the border in Pakistan. Winston Trout’s wedding was later in the week and three of the friends would disperse the day following the wedding so they picked this night. The only problem was Tray could not come—he was insistent on staying with Silvana in Puerto Rico. Sebastian arranged for a hookup through his iPad to bring Tray in, who could also review the festivities on his own iPad. Since Sebastian would be in Arizona the next two days proposing solar farms to the State and its environmental commissioner, Hadley Lane, this was the one day besides the wedding day that they would all be together, except Tray, Parker arranged the party anyway. Parker, for his date, brought a plain but thoughtful and attractive looking young Asian woman.