A Long December (29 page)

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry. “All but California, as a matter of fact. Hester, you are one sharp lady.”

“Did any of them have hazardous material certification on them?”

That stopped him. “Shit. Shit, I’ll be right back,” he said, and headed out to the booking area to check the DLs.

George looked at Hester. “Nice one.”

It had become something of an indicator, the hazmat certificate on the fake chauffeur’s license. It looked like somebody high in terrorist networks figured that, in case they wanted to ship dangerous materials by road, if they had somebody with that type of license drive the vehicle, they could just breeze through any encounter with the cops. What they apparently didn’t quite grasp was that, with the additional testing for hazardous materials transport, nobody got those certifications just for the hell of it. Only those who did that for a living would have them, and they were able to answer any question a cop had about the proper procedures right off the top of their heads. Arcane questions like which letters on the diamond-shaped warning were required for particular materials.

Harry returned. “All the chauffeurs have hazmat certification. Every fuckin’ one of ‘em.”

Volont had been on his cell phone to Harriet Glee at the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Cedar Rapids during most of the conversation with Harry. Dirty Harriet had told him that there had been no agreement reached regarding the immunity or protection, but that she’d be talking to Linda’s attorney within an hour. In the meantime, she’d emphatically told him that the name Skripkin had never been mentioned, nor had any other individual. Period.

“So,” said Volont, “it looks like Skripkin’s fair game. That was a nice bit,” he said to Hester, “about the hazmat certification. Good job.” The way he looked at George when he said it meant that he thought that George should have caught that first. “You advised him of his rights? “he asked Harry. Fuckin’ ay.

“And he’s fluent in English?”

“Sure sounds like it,” said Harry. “He tells a mean story.”

“Okay.” Volont, who was sitting in a tipped-back chair with his feet on Harry’s desk, made a tent shape with his hands and tapped his chin with the tips of his fingers. I’d seen him do that before, and it told me that he was really being careful.

“Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t we do it this way? Carl, you’ve got this Skripkin cold as an accessory to murder, based on an admission against interest after being advised of his rights pursuant to Miranda.” He glanced at Harry. “He did
waive
those rights, didn’t he?”

“Of course, my man,” said Harry. “Here.” He handed Volont a rights waiver form, signed by Skripkin. “Black and white.”

“Excellent. Carl, here, owes you supper.” A satisfied smile appeared on Volont’s face. Things were coming together. “So, then, Carl, you and Hester interview him regarding the Cueva murder. Now, your witness is sure that this Skripkin was not the trigger man?”

“Absolutely certain.”

“Good. Okay, so let’s see what he says to you. Don’t let him know we’re anywhere around. Find out all you can about motive, and just why this Juan Miguel Alvarez is also called Hassan Ahmed Hassan. And remember, you aren’t allowed to even
mention
the possibility of an immunity agreement with Linda. It could look like an intimidation tactic, by making him believe he was being hung out to dry by his friends. It could contaminate the whole interview.” He looked over at Harry. “Do you have a room where we can view and hear the interrogation without being observed by the suspect?”

“Shit, yes,” said Harry. “Where do you think you are, Iowa?”

I wanted to come back with something snappy in defense of my state, but Harry’s jail was three years old, and ours was over a hundred. The only way we could have done what Volont wanted would have been to hide somebody in a closet.

“Go get ‘em,” said Volont to Hester and me.

“Just a sec,” I said. “If this guy asks if he’s covered under some sort of immunity deal…”

“We tell him he’s not,” said Hester. “But only if he brings it up. He has to introduce it himself. You gotta be truthful. He asks, you tell him. Then, if he chooses not to talk, at least we give him something to think about while he waits for his court-appointed attorney.”

“Good enough,” I said. “Okay with you?” I asked Volont and George.

It was.

Hester and I stashed our handguns in individual lockers and gave a jailer the keys. She gave us each a number to be used to repossess our weapons when we were leaving.

As Harry led us back to the interview room, he said to Hester, “This Skripkin is one worried dude.”

“I would be, too,” said Hester.

I noticed how busy and noisy it was in the halls. Lots of staff. In our jail, you could clap your hands and get an echo.

We entered a room without windows, about fifteen by twenty-five feet, a mirror on the wall, and a long table with four chairs, arranged two to a side.

I knew the mirror was one-way, but it still could have fooled me. “Holy shit, Harry,” I said. “This looks like a movie set.”

He chuckled. “Strange you should mention that…the video camera is up in that corner there,” he said, pointing, “and the real video equipment is behind the glass. Great sound, so don’t say anything to each other in a whisper if you don’t want Skripkin’s attorney to hear you. That mike system picks up everything. It’s all digital.”

“You have popcorn on the other side of the glass? “I asked.

“I ain’t tellin’,” he said.

There was a knock on the door, and a uniformed jailer ushered Skripkin in. “I’ll be leaving you now,” said Harry, and meaningfully picked up the fourth chair and took it with him. Now, in order to obtain a weapon, Skripkin was either going to have to ask Hester or me for our chairs, or stand up and use his own. Not too bad an idea.

My first impression of Skripkin was that of a tall, very thin young man, with large blue eyes, blond hair, a large and narrow nose, and a very pale complexion. He was about two inches taller than I was, making him close to six feet six. He had very long fingers, with the nearly round nails you sometimes see in an ectomorph. He appeared pretty calm to me. Like they say, always take your cue from the suspect.

“Hi,” I said. “My name’s Carl Houseman, and this is Hester Gorse. I’m a deputy sheriff over in Nation County, Iowa, and she’s a special agent of the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation. We’d like to talk to you about the murder of Rudy Cueva.”

“Sure, no problem. What do you want to know?” Although he spoke pretty slowly and did have a Russian accent, his English was pretty damned good.

“Have a seat,” I said. “We need to explain a few things to you before we go any further.”

“Sure, whatever you need.” He sat, and so did we. I was rather surprised at his seemingly relaxed demeanor. I’d expected more tension, especially since Harry had told us he was worried.

“Okay, your first name is…” I said, wanting him to say it so I had a pronunciation guide.

“Yevgenny Ilyavitch Skripkin,” he said. “I am U.S. citizen since July 23 of this very year.”

“Excellent,” I said, and meant it. It was nice to be on familiar territory. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“First, let me advise you that you have the right to remain silent, and that anything you say can and will be used against you in a court or courts of law. You have the right to an attorney, and to have him present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to represent you at no cost to you.” I said it slowly, and with as little expression as possible. “Do you understand those rights?”

“Yes, I do.”

“With those rights in mind, do you still wish to talk with us without the presence of an attorney?”

“Sure, why not?”

I hate it when suspects append things like that. An attorney can have a field day, asking why you didn’t explain to him why he shouldn’t really talk to you. All over what is essentially a figure of speech.

“Okay. You know that you have been charged as an accessory to the murder of Rudy Cueva, is that correct?”

“Please explain this ‘accessory’ to me. Please.”

“In this case, it means that you were there when Rudy Cueva was killed, and you either helped to kill him or did nothing to prevent him being killed.”

He considered that for a moment. “I did not think Hassan was going to kill him, okay?”

“By Hassan, do you mean a man who calls himself Hassan Ahmed Hassan?” asked Hester.

“Yes I do. I mean, too, a man who calls himself Juan Alvarez. This person is the same.”

“That would be ‘Juan Miguel Alvarez,’ as far as you know?” asked Hester.

“As far as I know.”

He looked at us for a second, digesting Hester’s use of Alvarez’s middle name. He was smart enough to have picked up on it, but did he realize the implications? It had definitely dawned on him that we already knew something about Alvarez. I wondered if he realized Hester had done it deliberately.

“Can I ask here a question?”

There might be a time when you say something about being the one doing the questioning, but we wanted Yevgenny relaxed and as comfortable as possible.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“Do you think truly that I wanted Rudy to be dead?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said. “I don’t have enough information.”

He thought again. “Okay. I understand. I did not want to die, this Rudy, at all. I will explain to you why I mean that.”

“Fine. What happened that day? “I asked. “What were you doing there in the first place?”

According to Skripkin, he had come to the Midwest with his friend Hassan Ahmed Hassan, also known as Juan Miguel Alvarez, back in August. They lived in Harmony, Minnesota, for about a month, and then moved to Iowa City, Iowa. They were unemployed but Hassan always had cash. Skripkin claimed that he had no idea where the money came from. That seemed to be the first lie.

He then claimed they would drive around sometimes, and on one of those little drives, they came up north to Battenberg, and that was where he and Hassan met with Rudy Cueva for the first time.

“You came up specifically to meet Rudy Cueva?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t think that a hundred-mile drive without knowing who you were going to see was a little…strange?”

“How would I know that? I think…no, I am guessing that Hassan he knew Rudy already. Is that right, guess?”

“Could be. Why do you say that?”

“That was my guessing when we got there, because he…just a second, I reach for word…
recognized
him. That is it, recognized.” He looked genuinely pleased.

“How do you know that?” I asked. “That he recognized him.”

“Because we were driving around looking for address of Rudy and Linda, and we went by the Casey’s store, and there was a man filling gas into his car, and Hassan turned in the driving place and said, ‘That’s him there.’ That is why.”

“Does it for me,” I said. “So, you two came up to see Rudy and Linda, then?”

“No, just Rudy. I did not know both of them, and I think Hassan, he also met Linda that night for first time when we went to the apartment.”

“So,” asked Hester, “why did you come up to see them?”

Skripkin leaned a bit forward. “It was business, lady agent.” And he winked.

Lady agent. I suspected that the troops on the other side of the glass were going to have a good time with that one.

“Narcotics? “asked Hester, not missing a beat. “Drugs, dope?”

“No. No drugs. No.”

“What for, then?” She was pretty insistent.

“This makes me frightened,” he said. “I do not know what to say.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

He thought. “I tell you, because you have my fingerprints. You will know soon, if you do not know already.” His whole demeanor had changed, just like a switch had been tripped. He became much more confident, and more assertive.

“My real name is truly Yevgenny Skripkin. I am wanted in Ukraine for murder, which I did kill that man, because I am hired to do that. I do that for a job. I was brought to this country in 1996, arrangement from my old boss with the boss of Hassan. I come to this country from Canada, then to Chicago. I had job, and pretty good visa and not so good green card. I was cook at restaurant there.” As I started to speak, he held up his hand for silence. “No, I do not know boss of Hassan. I do not know that Hassan knows boss of Hassan.” His prominent jaw muscles clenched. “It is good for me not to know those things. I know this.” He appeared to relax a bit. “So, I am wanted to become hard to find in Ukraine, and this is good deal for bosses. I am to help the boss of Hassan whenever he asks. Otherwise, I am to be a U.S. citizen as soon as I can, so I keep my nose pretty damn clean.”

I thought I heard a muted thump from behind the one-way glass, and imagined that Volont had just sent George scrambling to run Skripkin’s prints through AFIS.

“What’s the name of your old boss? “asked Hester.

“Vladimir Nadsyev.” He said it very freely, which surprised me.

“And you don’t know the name of Hassan’s boss?”

“Of course not.”

“But you would tell us if you knew it? “she asked.

“Of course not,” he said, with a big smile. “I am not stupid.”

“Then,” she asked, “why did you tell us the name of your old boss?”

“He is husband of my sister,” said Skripkin. “Everybody knows I work for him for years.”

“Then are you really a U.S. citizen?” I asked. I thought I could get away with the question because I was asking it for verification purposes for a prior statement.

He sighed. “No, I am not U.S. citizen.”

“Okay.” Lies were piling up. Now we had to determine if we were actually getting closer to the truth of the matter, or if we were just getting more lies. Filtering can be a real pain in the butt. I looked at my notes. “So, back to this Hassan and his boss…”

“This is first time boss of Hassan asks for favor. I am to come with Hassan and be his guard, and be his strong right arm if there is to be trouble.”

“And this is the first time you met Hassan?”

“To be truthful, yes. I never met Hassan before then.”

It’s amazing how many times the people we interview say things like ‘to tell the truth’ or ‘to be truthful.’ It’s a dead giveaway that they’ve been lying to you. That’s the easy part. The hard part is determining just where and why.