The Line Up (34 page)

Pearson divides his time between the Northern Rockies and Saint Louis.

LOU BOLDT

BY RIDLEY PEARSON

Boldt: First, for the record, I want to say emphatically that I’ve not committed any crime. I’ve agreed to talk without counsel. Anyone who knows any detective knows he would never speak without an attorney present, not to his own mother if she were accusing him of eating an extra piece of pie. But your accusation is a bit more serious than that, isn’t it? And for the record: my mother is dead. So’s my father. I have a sister, lives in central Washington. That’s what’s left of that part of my life. But anyway, I’m innocent of the charges.

Define your relationship with Captain Philip Shoswitz, as well as with Detective John LaMoia.

Boldt: Define it? Have you got a few hours?

We have all the time you need, Lieutenant.

Boldt: First, can I make some observations, Sergeant Feldman? You and Dr. Hainer. I’m guessing you’re what, Sergeant? Forty-two? Dr. Hainer’s thirty-five, thirty-six? I imagine you slogged your way through beer and coeds and managed a bachelor’s degree in pub crawling. Same as any red-blooded kid. Dr. Hainer didn’t fare so well. He never left the bottle behind.

Let’s keep this to the investigation, shall we?

Boldt: If you don’t mind, it’s important to the people reviewing this interview that they understand the mind-set of those doing the interview. Very important to me. I’m trained in detection, Sergeant, same as you. And it’s important that we know each other. Dr. Hainer looks like a man born for graduate school. Probably lived off the parents’ checkbook for as long as possible. Maybe a few years too many. See his clothes? He’s worn that jacket a long time. There are stitch marks where he removed an emblem—a college or fraternity emblem, I’m guessing. The bloodshot eyes tell me the good doctor had a very late night last night, or was into something more destructive. The jaundice in those eyes suggests coke or alcohol. The gut he’s wearing tells me it’s booze. Coke would have left him a rail. And if I’m right, this destructive tendency is the result of marital problems. Note the tan line suggesting a missing wedding band. That’s recent, so I’m pretty sure it explains the pain behind the jaundice. I’ve been there, you see.

She left you, am I right? Possibly in part because you’re cheap. You haven’t bought yourself a new pair of shoes in what—two years? Same with the shirt. We’ve already discussed the coat. So I’m sorry for whatever you’re going through, Dr. Hainer, but I’m wondering if you’re fully qualified to judge my state of mind when your own is in question.

[Dr. Hainer excuses himself and leaves the room]

Feldman: That was hardly necessary.

Boldt: Unless you’re sitting where I am. Dr. Hainer’s report is going to play significantly in the review of this interview. His state of mind is critical to that review. I question his ability to assess me fairly. That’s all. I mean no disrespect.

For the sake of the tape, Dr. Hainer has left the room at… 10:37 a.m. Subject remains.

Boldt: For the sake of the tape: he looked a little queasy.

He has a personal matter to attend to. He’ll be back shortly.

Boldt: He’s going to have a smoke and recompose himself. He smokes menthols. Did you smell it? Half a pack a day, I think. And he has a problem with athlete’s foot—uses that spray stuff. It’s my nose. [subject points to nose] Best old-factory around. [subject laughs]

Let’s start with your relationship with Captain Shoswitz.

Boldt: My relationship? You make it sound as if we shower together. If you want to understand my closeness to Captain Shoswitz, then you have to understand my attraction to the job. It started with my father. He was a drunk. Your friend Dr. Hainer, who just beat a hasty retreat, he may find this useful. I’m laboring under some kind of daddy complex, which explains so much about me. We need him. Bring him back.

Your sarcasm is noted, Lieutenant Boldt, though I’m not sure it helps your case any.

Boldt: My case? That’s rich. My father had some brushes with the law. By “the law” I mean my uncle Victor. They called him Lightning. Lightning Boldt—get it? He was a blue, like you and me. Victor, I’m talking about. Not my father. He was a drunk. Plain and simple. The life of a drunk is plain and simple. Simple, and difficult, and tragic—which pretty much sums up dear old Dad. And by “brushes” I mean knock-down-drag-outs, where the two of them went at it like a pair of Irishmen. This typically followed my father getting into trouble, and my uncle Vic getting him out. Dad showed his thanks by offering his fists. Dad liked to hit. [subject makes a sucking noise between his teeth] Dad liked to hit whatever, whoever, was handy at the time. Ah-ha! Dr. Hainer returns. A glass of water to justify his absence. Yes, have a seat—we were just discussing my effed-up childhood and my relationship with my dad. Although he couldn’t relate to anything, so it’s a misnomer. Yes, by all means take a note. Write that down. It could prove incredibly important to my innocence.

You were going to tell us about you and Captain Shoswitz.

Boldt: It’s all connected. My uncle Vic started on the beat. Yesler Way and south into what used to be mostly the fish trade. Some rough characters.

No one’s questioning your uncle’s integrity.

Boldt: No, but you’re questioning my integrity. You’re accusing me of helping out the captain in a way that violates regs. Twenty-seven years, four months, and this is what it comes down to? You actually think I carried ten grand in cash and put it back into Property? Do you actually think LaMoia was involved as well? And you think I would do all this for Phil Shoswitz, which suggests he took that money out in the first place, which I don’t believe. The implication is that he did it because his son was into some bad real-estate deals. More incredible, you say you can prove all this. Has it occurred to any of you that this goes totally contrary to my career, to LaMoia’s, and to the lieutenant’s—the captain’s? Isn’t it far more likely I’ve been set up?

To what purpose?

Boldt: I have ideas but no proof. If you’d give me time to track some of this down… Instead you’ve got me in here with you two, and all we’re going to do is circle the drain.

You were going to tell us about your relationship with Captain Shoswitz.

Boldt: I was going to tell you that my uncle Vic moved on to form the first SWAT squad this department ever had. Worked with Jerry Fleming from the Bureau. Jerry had run the D. B. Cooper case. Remember that one: guy hijacks a plane and jumps from a jet with eighty grand? Jerry’s the real thing. His son, Walt, too. He’s the sheriff over in Sun Valley. And Uncle Vic and Jerry set up a response squad—special weapons and tactics. That’s when Vic got into the interesting work. Over the next few years, he and his squad saved sixteen lives. Hostages. Attempted suicides. You name it. And he might have left this department with his chin up and a chance at a private-sector job if some TV crew hadn’t scared a jumper off the I-5 bridge back in the ’80s and made it look like Vic had screwed the pooch. It wasn’t Vic that lost that guy—but the video made it look that way. And that was the end of Vic. That’s what you guys are. Do you see that? You’re the TV crew in my career. Twenty-seven years, and you’re going to make it look like I did this thing. And I did not.

Captain Shoswitz.

Boldt: Sergeant Shoswitz recruited me for a vice sting on the canal. A gaming room in an abandoned vessel. Maybe he took me for my size, maybe because he owed one to Uncle Vic. But I got the call. I was riding in Freemont mostly. Watching the grass grow between the cracks. Not a lot of work in Freemont. A stolen salmon maybe. A buoy snatching. Lowball stuff. And Shoswitz calls me onto a vice sting. I don’t think I slept the night before that. I was pretty wound up. Vice. That was the real stuff. This is the late ’70s. I was a young buck. The wharves and the canals were full of prosts and dealers. Coke and weed. Some H. AIDS hadn’t arrived yet. Vice was the place to be. When you love this job, you love it. I think my uncle Vic understood that about me: he knew I had something to prove. That I wasn’t my father. That I wasn’t going to go down a bottle and that I wanted to fix things instead of screw them up. That Crosby, Stills and Nash song. You ever hear that one: “Teach Your Children”? I’m a jazz guy myself, but that song pretty much sums up the first part of my life. The second part, once I was wearing that uniform, was going to be different, and the sergeant understood that about me.

So you owed him.

Boldt: I did. I do. Yes, absolutely. You know the way it is. Show me anyone who doesn’t owe somebody something. Nuns owe it all to God. For Lance Armstrong, it’s the bike. Gimme a break. It’s all connected. That’s what makes investigating—and some of us actually investigate crimes before throwing around charges—so much fun.

That connection between you and Captain Shoswitz… Why don’t you explain it to me?

Boldt: The thing about you guys in I.I. is you lose your trust. You lose your faith. You spend too much time investigating your fellow blue and you lose perspective.

Philip Shoswitz received a favorable bank loan from your wife. You want to tell us about that?

Boldt: Am I supposed to be impressed that you did your homework? Listen, it was a car loan. It was back in the Stone Age. He got the loan well before I ever met Liz. She and I tell people we met in college. We’ve told that so many times maybe even we believe it. But it’s not right. We met in a bank. Across a loan desk in a bank. Romantic, huh? The lieu had taken out a bank loan on a new car—some kind of Buick, I think. He told me about it. Incredible rate. An incentive thing, you know? Back when interest rates were obscene. But if you opened a checking and savings account then, they shaved a bunch of points off the car loan. It was this all-in-one thing. A promotional thing. Best deal in the city. So I went, and the loan officer… Well, you know: one of those stories. A year later we were hitched. I was never great with math. I don’t handle the money at the house, guys. So you implying I handled money here… that’s just plain wrong.

We’ve implied nothing.

Boldt: You’ve charged me. Excuse me. You’ve charged me with… let me get this straight… placing ten thousand dollars cash—in bills twenty dollars and less—back into the property room. Not stealing, but returning. Isn’t that right? So the charge is, what, not stealing?

You know what the charges are.

Boldt: Not really.

Your wife, Elizabeth. You may have met her in a bank, but it was her recruitment of you that led to your relationship. It’s that kind of fudging the line, Lieutenant, that ultimately will work against you.

Boldt: You have as long on the job as a guy like me, and you expect people to come after you. The reputation gets too big. The department doesn’t like any officer getting bigger than the badge. But listen, that hasn’t happened here. I’m well aware of my limitations and shortcomings. I have a lot yet to prove, cases to close. If you’re trying to pressure me off the force, this is a hell of a convoluted way of doing it.

Dr. Hainer: Your wife’s neighbor was having problems with her husband. Tell us about that. She asked you for some help with that.

Sergeant Feldman: You can’t take on that kind of employment while carrying the shield. It’s moonlighting. It’s not permitted.

Boldt: This was fifteen years ago.

You were off-shift. You put a man in the hospital with a broken collarbone and a dislocated elbow.

Boldt: The guy beat his wife on the bottom of her feet with a length of garden hose filled with bird shot. He performed acts—sexual acts—that she did not consent to. Repeatedly. He withheld food from her and drugged her against her will. It’s true he took a swing at me and I defended myself. It’s also true he got the short end of that stick and ended up in need of medical attention. How I got there that night… there is no record of that. What you’re citing is rumor and hearsay. Unsubstantiated nonsense.

It was that incident that brought you and your wife together.

Boldt: You see: it’s that legend thing again. Rumors. I never asked for that mantle. People who get that, they never ask for it. It just arrives one day. And believe me, it’s a damn uncomfortable thing, that kind of label. What good does it do anyone? I maintained an 80 percent clearance rate for the better part of eight years on homicide. That’s luck. Plain and simple. I’m not a super-cop. You’re ginning up stories that have little or no basis in fact. If you’re going to pretend to do your homework, check your sources. You gotta always check your sources: first rule. Besides, what business is it of yours what brought Liz and me together? How could that possibly have any bearing on—

[Interrupts] Because it solidified and defined the relationship between you and Captain Shoswitz.

Boldt: Not true! You are way off base. Stick to the facts. You’re not paying attention to the facts.

And the facts are?

Boldt: Okay. [subject looks between the two interviewers] You want this from my side? [subject clears his throat] You allege that ten thousand dollars went missing from Property, that the missing money was discovered in a random inventory. You neglect to figure into this—somehow—that the discovery was kept secret. Neither I nor anyone else below the chief, I assume, was made aware of the missing money. You then suggest that I somehow divined the money was missing, recovered the money, and returned it in order to protect Phil Shoswitz, who you claim stole it in the first place. Throughout all of this, you fail to give any credence to the idea that the initial inventory was inaccurate, that someone made a mistake on the front end of this thing, and that all of this is just a horrible accounting error.