Crosshairs, page 10
I said, “Can you tell me where you were this night?” I tapped the circled date with my finger.
Robinson studied the calendar carefully, then looked up and said, “I was in a study group. I’m enrolled at City College. Math is giving me some problems.”
“Can you give me some names and phone numbers of the people in your study group?”
She shrugged. “Truthfully, they’re all so much younger than me that I haven’t bothered to get to know any of them. I know a few first names, but that’s it.”
I went through the same exercise with the other two dates. As I suspected, they were too far in the past for her to remember where she was.
We all chatted for a few more minutes. We made sure we got her current address and cell phone number.
Wendy Robinson looked at me and said, “You must have a lot of experience. And you seem like the kind of guy who has fun in life.” Then she looked directly at Trilling and said, “You don’t need to call me just for questions. You can call me anytime.”
I enjoyed seeing Trilling blush.
CHAPTER 40
NOT LONG AFTER our interview with the interesting female sniper, I pulled into the parking lot of One Police Plaza. Surprisingly, there was someone else at headquarters we could interview about our sniper case.
As we climbed the steps toward a side entrance, Rob Trilling smoothed out his hair and flattened his windbreaker against his shoulders. He said, “I’m uncomfortable here.”
“Join the club.”
“Shouldn’t we be wearing ties?”
“The only people who wear ties here are the people who want to work in this building. We’re just coming in to talk to this guy, Joseph Tavarez.”
Trilling said, “Do you really think an NYPD officer could be the sniper?”
“First, I always try to keep an open mind. Second, if we make a case on someone else, the defense is going to ask if we checked other potential suspects. This will show that we’re diligent. Third, and most important, it wouldn’t hurt to get another perspective on the case from a guy who was an actual sniper with the NYPD.”
“Why is this guy working an admin job if he’s a qualified sniper?”
I stopped in the doorway and turned to Trilling. “He took a shot as a sniper about two years ago. A guy with a gun was holding a convenience store cashier hostage. All the negotiations had failed. The robber had been surprised by a patrol officer who happened to pull in front of the bodega just as the robbery was going on. The robber was more and more frantic and drew blood from the victim’s temple by pressing the barrel so hard against her head.
“Tavarez got the green light and made a phenomenal shot. The cashier was saved and the robber had a bullet in his brainpan.”
“So what happened? Did Tavarez freak out and ask to be on desk duty?”
“They had to pull him off the street because of a lawsuit from the robber’s family, pressure from the media, and insurance liability. It sucks that he did his job perfectly and still got punished for it.”
I let Trilling think about that as we worked our way through the maze of hallways and secure entrances of the NYPD headquarters. I nodded hello to half a dozen people who passed us in the halls. After all these years, I still didn’t like getting caught in this building.
We found the unit where Joseph Tavarez was assigned. The unit was basically comprised of nine intelligence analysts handling information, similar to Walter Jackson’s job, with Tavarez and a lieutenant running the whole thing. As I understood it, Tavarez’s job was to review intelligence reports to see if there were crimes that needed to be investigated or referred to other agencies. Not a job I’d care for at all.
When we walked through the door, I saw the pool of analysts working in cubicles and a man with dark hair, wearing civilian clothes, working at a desk over to the side. He looked up and noticed us, stood from his desk, and walked over to us.
The man said, “You’re Michael Bennett.”
“Have we met?”
“Are you kidding me? I’d know you anywhere. If not from the newspapers, from some of the NYPD news briefs. I’d recognize you before I’d recognize the commissioner.” He stuck out his hand and said, “Joe Tavarez. Nice to meet you.”
“You’re just who I wanted to talk to.”
CHAPTER 41
THE FIRST THING I noticed about Joseph Tavarez was how similar he seemed to Rob Trilling. Not only in his demeanor but also in his appearance. He was ten years older but had the same lean frame and short, dark hair as Trilling.
I introduced Trilling.
Tavarez said, “I know your name too. You’re on ESU, right? You came on after I was reassigned.”
Trilling nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m not assigned to the unit at the moment. I’m working with Detective Bennett for the time being.”
“Don’t sweat it. There are worse assignments.”
The two of them chatted comfortably for a few minutes until Tavarez looked at me and said, “I know you didn’t come by here just to keep me company. Is there something I can help you with?”
I let Trilling explain what we were working on.
Tavarez said, “The Longshot Killer? You guys are working on the most interesting case I’ve seen in a long time. I’ve been following it closely in the media and in homicide reports. You know, the exciting part of police work.”
I decided to handle this sensitive part of the interview. “We have to eliminate potential suspects. You were a sniper in the Army, and according to Trilling, military snipers are rare. You were also a sniper with the department. So I’ve got to ask you where you were on a couple of dates.”
Tavarez just eyed us silently. Clearly he didn’t expect to be considered a suspect. Even the way I’d worded it, by telling him we were eliminating suspects, didn’t ease the insult. He was a guy who’d spent his whole life in public service and it looked like the only reward he’d gotten was a shitty job at headquarters and now someone suggesting he was a potential killer. I gave him some time.
Tavarez said, “I’ll talk to you, even though we both know it’s never a good idea to talk to the cops. This is bullshit.”
“No one is accusing you of anything. You know all the hoops we have to jump through. I’m just trying to be thorough.” Then I did the calendar trick with him. He said he’d been off duty for the most recent murder, at home with his wife. He gave us her phone number.
“You can call Cindy right now to make sure I don’t try to coordinate my story with hers.” Joe still had a touch of annoyance in his voice. “I’ll give you her office number too. She works over at the FBI as an analyst. Kinda what I’m doing here. In fact, I know I have a similar schedule to FBI intake analysts because I got a buddy of mine from the service a job over there, and we have almost identical schedules. I work ten hours a day, two evening shifts and two day shifts a week.”
I said, “Was your buddy a sniper in the military too?”
“Looking for another suspect?”
“No, just curious.”
“His name is Darnell Nash. He was my spotter in Iraq. He might not have been a certified sniper, but he’s really good with the rifle. He lost a foot to an IED.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Trilling asked, “Why is your buddy an analyst if he has military experience? Clearly he must have a college degree or the FBI wouldn’t have hired him.”
“An FBI analyst’s job is not too bad.”
Trilling and Tavarez started to talk about different veterans’ groups and causes they were involved in. I respect the bond military people feel toward one another.
As soon as we said our goodbyes and were heading to another unit in the headquarters building, I made a quick call to Cindy Tavarez to verify what her husband had told me about his alibi. She backed it up, and even provided a few details about what they’d had for dinner and watched on TV.
CHAPTER 42
I TRIED TO advise Rob Trilling about the importance of making contacts everywhere he went. That included headquarters. There’s no way a detective can know all the things that are needed in big cases. Between electronic surveillance, witnesses, forensics, and so forth, it’s just too much for any one person. That’s why it’s important for a good detective to know who to call if he or she has questions.
Trilling was so quiet and reserved, I worried that establishing that kind of network might end up being one of the hardest aspects of the job for him.
I turned to go up to the fourth floor and meet Rebecca Swope, one of the sharpest analysts at headquarters. She also had a direct connection to every college and school in New York. We needed to verify a few things.
As we started up the stairs, I heard someone coming down from the third floor. As we turned for the next flight, I saw the wide figure of my old friend Greg Stout. Greg was a little overweight but liked to tell everyone that he felt it was important his body match his surname. And he was known for being a resourceful and determined investigator. That, coupled with his writing abilities, had moved him up through the ranks to sergeant in charge of major investigations. He also had a joke for every possible occasion.
As soon as he saw me, Greg broke into a wide smile and said, “Mikey boy, what brings you to the king’s castle? Someone figure out your degree in philosophy is bogus?”
“My biggest fear, but that’s not the issue today.”
“How’s that big beautiful family of yours?”
“All good. And yours?”
He shrugged.
I knew not to ask any more questions. Stout was frustrated by his twentysomething slacker son who believed every wacky conspiracy he read on the internet.
Stout changed the subject. “Seriously, why are you here? We want to escape, and you come here willingly?”
“Need some expertise and I’m headed up to see Becky Swope.”
“If she can’t figure something out, no one can.” He turned his attention to Trilling and said, “Who’s this?”
“He’s working on the Longshot Killer case with me. Greg, this is Rob Trilling. Rob, this is Sergeant Greg Stout.”
He patted his belly and said, “No jokes. I’m the only one allowed to make jokes around here.” Then he took another look at Trilling and said, “God damn, how old are you? You even made an arrest yet? I mean, for anything.”
Trilling stayed silent. In fact, he did a pretty good job of ignoring Stout altogether even though it was just the three of us in the stairwell.
Greg looked at me and said, “Seems a little touchy. Maybe he needs to learn some manners.”
Now Trilling spoke very evenly. “Where I’m from, manners are something we use every day. With everyone. My grandpa told me to ignore loudmouths.”
That was it. Trilling didn’t have anything else to say. He continued to ignore the sergeant but looked at me like he was waiting to see what I was going to say. Obviously Trilling followed his grandfather’s advice. And he was pretty efficient too.
I said, “Lay off, Greg.”
“What’s the matter, rookie can’t defend himself?” When that didn’t get Trilling’s attention, Greg Stout reached out and flicked Trilling’s ear.
Trilling moved so smoothly I barely noticed as he swept the sergeant’s legs out from under him, then held his arm to ease Stout’s drop to the metal landing in the stairwell.
Trilling calmly looked at me and said, “I’ll meet you up on the fourth floor.” Then he started taking the stairs casually, one at a time.
I helped my friend to his feet. He wasn’t hurt. Trilling had made sure he wouldn’t be.
Greg Stout said, “He really is a little touchy, isn’t he? I was just joking around.”
I looked at him and said, “You were out of line. He’s not a rookie anymore. And he’s starting to impress the shit out of me. He could’ve dropped you on the floor like a sack of potatoes. But he grabbed you and eased your fall. It was as good a message as I’ve ever seen sent.”
Greg Stout gave me his goofy grin. “Everything you’re saying is right. I guess I deserved that. I’m glad the kid went easy on me. The last thing I need is back problems.”
I said goodbye and started up the stairs to catch my partner.
CHAPTER 43
REBECCA SWOPE WAS tucked in her own office with the only sign on the door saying, INVESTIGATIVE SUPPORT. Other analysts and detectives worked in the same squad bay, but the only reason anyone ever seemed to come up here was to talk to Becky.
She’d spent a decade developing contacts at every local college from NYU and Columbia to some of the lesser-known private colleges on the outskirts of the city. There was no registrar she couldn’t call and get a straight answer from about something. The trick was to catch her when she wasn’t overwhelmed by other detectives looking for similar information.
I stood in her doorway for a moment as she worked on her computer. She raised her eyes and smiled. I didn’t know her age, but I knew she had adult children. One of them worked at the NYPD garage as a technician.
Becky said, “I got the name you sent me and checked with City College.”
“And?”
“Wendy Robinson was enrolled there but only took one class, two semesters ago.”
Rob Trilling stepped into the doorway next to me. He was frowning and I knew why. We’d both bought a lie.
I said, “Becky, this is my partner, Rob Trilling.”
Becky said, “Trilling? I don’t know that name yet, but if you’re working with this guy, I’m sure I’ll start seeing it in reports in no time.”
Trilling said, “I just started working with Detective Bennett a few days ago, ma’am.”
Becky let out a laugh. “‘Ma’am’? I’m not used to good manners from most of these guys. I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re not from New York.”
“No, ma’am. Montana.”
“I love Montana. We took our kids there on vacation probably fifteen years ago. We had a great time. I hope it’s nothing like the TV show Yellowstone. That makes the locals seem awfully violent.”
“Like everywhere else, we have some problems. But don’t worry. It’s nothing like that show.”
Becky got back to business. “Walter Jackson ran Wendy Robinson’s name past the Department of Defense. He told me to give you this folder with everything in it. It shows she’s not at City College anymore, and it’s got a summary of her military fitness reports.”
Trilling stepped forward to take the folder Becky handed across her desk so she didn’t have to reach too far.
I said, “Anything interesting?”
“Oh, your suspect, Wendy Robinson, saw a whole lot of trouble in the service. Her fitness reports say she had anger issues and she did not work well with people who annoyed her. Which apparently was about half the Army. She has impressive reports on her determination in training, her fitness level, and her participation in some special sniping program. But I wouldn’t call her warm and cuddly.”
“I didn’t get that impression either when we met. But she outright lied to us. That makes her a decent suspect.”
Trilling asked, “Why would she lie about something as simple as a study group?”
“Exactly. She could’ve given us any number of different alibis. She could’ve said she was home alone and we would never have been able to disprove it. But I’m thinking we surprised her. And now we’ve got to track her down again.” I looked at Becky and said, “Thank you for all this help.”
“No problem at all. But in return you need to tell Walter Jackson my price: the next time we’re together on a training, he can’t tell me puns for a solid eight hours.”
“That’s a deal.”
CHAPTER 44
I CAME HOME that evening absolutely exhausted. After leaving One Police Plaza, Rob Trilling and I had run down every lead we could find on Wendy Robinson. We talked to one former landlord who wasn’t particularly happy with the fist-sized holes she’d left in his apartment. She wasn’t even connected to the address she had given us.
Trilling said he’d run by the gym where Robinson worked out to see if he could find anything. That was fine with me. My day was over. A few hours with my family and a decent meal would do wonders.
Or so I thought.
As soon as I stepped through the apartment door, I could hear high-pitched yelling that had to be coming from one of the younger girls.
I hurried through the entryway to the dining room. Bridget and Fiona had squared off with Jane across the dining room table. The usually calm Jane looked ready to spring across the table and crack someone’s head. Bridget, normally much more interested in arts and crafts, was screaming that Jane had violated her civil rights.
I could already tell that this was a story I was not particularly interested in hearing. But I was a dad. That left no room for me to just walk away.
I said in a loud voice, “Everyone to a neutral corner.” That at least got the girls’ attention and stopped the screaming. They all turned and stared at me like I’d interrupted a debate. Then I asked, “Where’s Mary Catherine?”
Jane spoke first. “She took Ricky and Shawna to the Museum of Natural History so they could do some kind of report.”
That made sense. There’s no way these girls would ever get into a fight like this with Mary Catherine around. I made everyone take a seat. As usual, the twins, Bridget and Fiona, sat right next to each other. Across the table, like opposing counsel, Jane sat by herself.
I said, “Does someone want to tell me what this is all about?”
Jane took a breath and said in a reasonably calm voice, “I think it’s best if we handle this ourselves.”
“Somehow I doubt that. Plus, I’m not sure if my medical insurance can cover what you guys might do to each other.” I gave Fiona a hard look. It’s wrong to say, but she is always the first to crack in any situation like this. A lot of people talk about knowing which parent to ask permission for different things. The flip side of that coin is that most parents know which kid to question when there’s an argument. In this case, my basketball star Fiona was the weak link.
